#started with Charley and have wanted to make sure I’m not missing any

[bigbeardedbookseller]

Emma Whitehall - Author Interview

Today we have a Q&A session with Emma Whitehall, a bookseller for the bound in Whitley Bay, who has her debut novel Clockwork Magpie which came out on the 10th of February, the launch of which was at the bound.

Tell us what inspired you to write your (debut) novel?

I wanted to write a story where my characters’ Northern-ness was part of why we loved them – not a plot point or something to overcome. Clockwork Magpies is set in an alternate-universe England, where the industry and wealth migrated upwards towards the coal-rich North East to form the city of Loxport. Publishing is slowly but surely realising how rich and talented Northern voices can be, but when I started this story nearly a decade ago, there was virtually nothing – especially not in YA!

What came first the characters or the world?

They kind of grew out of each other – the original Clockwork Magpies was a short story collection, with stories and characters and settings that crossed paths with each other. It wasn’t until that draft was done that a certain infamous sneak thief kept strolling into other people’s stories and demanding I write about her…

What’s the favourite reaction you’ve had to your book?

The wonderful YA bookseller Charley from The Rabbit Hole in Brigg recently interviewed me for her channel, and she called the book ‘cosy’ – which isn’t something I ever thought my writing would be called! She also said she wanted to give Ida a big hug and a shake, which I think is exactly what my grumpy little criminal needs.

Would you ever consider writing outside your current genre?

I always write fantasy fiction, but the base for that fantasy changes from story to story. I just had a high fantasy, meta-fictional short story published with Paperbound Magazine’s Winter issue, and right now I’m working on a Solarpunk love story. Being playful and trying new things is really important for me as a writer.

What did you do before (or still do) you became a writer?

I’m a bookseller! I work at the bound, Whitley Bay, where I also run a YA Book Club. Basically, if I’m not involved with something to do with books, I’m usually asleep.

Which genres do you read yourself?

I think reading a wide range of books is really important, both as a writer and as a bookseller. Think of all the amazing pieces of work you’d miss out on if you only read one genre! I love fantasy and YA fiction, but I also read a lot of Victorian period dramas (like Elizabeth Macneal’s The Doll Factory) and in 2021 I got really into romance fiction, especially Talia Hibbert’s work!

What books can you not resist buying?

Anything that promises great characters – you could have the grandest, most intricate world imaginable, but if your characters don’t ring true or make me love them in some way, I lose interest really quickly.

Do you have any rituals when writing?

My favourite way to write is while sitting in a café, really early in the morning, with a hot drink and something sweet to eat. I think this came from squeezing in writing time before I went to work, but after all these years I just love working early in the day – once I come home from work I just crash, I don’t want to start plotting or writing dialogue!

What is your current or latest read?

I’m just finishing up You And Me On Vacation, and I’m about to start either The Atlas Six or These Violent Delights – yes, I’m big into TikTok books right now!

Any events in the near future?

My launch party for Clockwork Magpies is happening at the bound, Whitley Bay on the 10th February, and then we’re organising a panel in March where readers can ask me about the world of Loxport! The tickets for the party are available now, but keep your eyes peeled for the panel in the near future. You can find out more at https://linktr.ee/pensandpizza

and finally, what inspired you to write the genre you do?

I write fantasy because we can use it as a lens. Using genre fiction allows us – both readers and writers – to explore themes like love, grief, classism and finding your own family (which are all themes in Clockwork Magpies) in ways that writing about “the real world” might not allow. Sometimes you just need a really good story to slip through a crack in your heart and open it up again.

You can find Emma at @pensandpizza on both Twitter and Instagram.

[browniefox]

The One with the Motorcycle

@wrightfamilyweek day 4 - Free day! Which I took to mean 'shove my headcanon here'. At first I wanted to do something with Ryuunosuke, but I still haven't finished tgaa so uhhhh sorry my boy. Also, you can find this on AO3 here.

In which Trucy and Phoenix decide they need to find a more reliable method of getting around. Luckily, Phoenix already has a vehicle registered under his name.

oOo

“Does this mean that when I turn sixteen, I’ll get a motorcycle license?”

Trucy skips alongside her Daddy as they walk through the aisles of the storage facility. They pass locked garage after garage. Trucy has always known that her Daddy had somewhere he stores a bunch of stuff that doesn’t fit in the office, the stuff he used to keep in his apartment back when he had one, but this is her first time coming along with him.

There’s been a lot leading up to this. Now that Trucy’s getting a little older, there’s more things she wants to do, or go to, and Daddy seems to be getting a little busier too. He’s started going down to the library more often, and having some kind of meetings for lunch, and getting calls by people Trucy doesn’t know. They’re both getting busy, and buses and taxis only get them so far. Daddy had declared, in an almost resigned-sounding voice after they missed a bus and had to wait underneath the bus stop in the pouring rain for another thirty minutes, that perhaps it was time to find a more reliable method to get around.

“Dessie says she’s running a little late, but she’ll be here soon.” Trucy is in charge of the phone while Daddy frets over the pieces of paper in his hands, crinkling the edges up in his nervous hands.

Daddy doesn’t reply to this either, just keeps walking forward. Trucy frowns to herself. Daddy’s been kind of weird about this whole thing. From getting the Learner’s Permit, to the practice drives and lessons with Desiree, to his final test, but now if anything he seems at his most awkward and strange as they approach the storage unit.

They final come to a stop, and Daddy pulls up the metal door.

If old case files in the office were little glimpses into who Daddy was before Trucy knew him, this place was an in-color photograph.

There’s cardboard boxes with ‘sketchbooks’ scrawled on the front. There’s a dead plant in the corner. There’s a stack of picture frames, an old couch shoved into a corner, and a small wood table with rings from the ghosts of old drinks, a few splashes of paint marring the surface. There’s some art supplies shoved off in a corner that Trucy immediately goes over to, and piles of books Trucy hasn’t read before, and Trucy wants nothing more than to stay here all day and look through everything and anything in sight.

In the middle of the storage unit, however, is what they’ve come here for.

It’s a lilac-colored motorcycle. There’s an unhealthy-layer of dust on it - there’s a layer of dust on everything in the room - and Daddy brushes his hand over the seat and handles, sending a plume of the dust into the air. He starts sneezing and coughing over it and Trucy laughs a little at that. She stops in a moment, though, because of the almost-grim look on Daddy’s face as he stares at the bike.

They’ve been building up to this for months, in reality. Trucy realizes this now, that everything up to this point has been to get this motorcycle out of the garage and back onto the streets, because it was a vehicle Daddy already owns, and he wouldn’t have to go through the hassle nor money involved in getting a new one. But it’s also all conflicted with Daddy’s attempts to distance himself from the past.

Daddy wants to move forward in life, she gets that, but it makes Trucy sad anyway to see how nervous and resigned he’d looked about so much as calling the Delites for help. Like doing that much is losing something.

“So this is Aunt Mia’s bike?” Trucy asks, going over to it as well. She doesn’t know anything about things like this, but it looks like it’s in okay condition. It’s certainly not as shiny as Desiree’s, but it’s not bad.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t by.” He says, and she can tell he’s not talking to her. His eyes are fixed on the bike like sometimes he’ll stare at Charley for what seems like hours on end; it’s never for that long, but it feels like it might be at times. He tilts her head to Trucy and explains, “I used to come by and try to keep it clean and stuff, but things have gotten… complicated. I’m sure Mia’s upset I haven’t done more to maintain this since she’s been gone.”

Ah, it’s one of the days where he’s talking about Aunt Mia in the present tense. It’s hard to tell if that’s ever a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it’s just A Thing he does sometimes. Even after four years, there’s still so much Trucy hasn’t figured out about her daddy. Sometimes, he talks about Aunt Mia as the dead person she is, gone and out of this world, a deceased but loved person, just like Trucy’s mommy was talked about. Other days, though, it’s like he expects Aunt Mia to walk through the door any minute.

“Alright, well, let’s see what we can do before Desiree gets here.”

Daddy’s temporary license, the edges of which are almost torn up by his worrying hands, is set aside on top of the sketchbook box and he grabs a towel from one of the other boxes, setting to work on a more thorough dusting. Trucy searches through Daddy’s phone for the list of what to check for that Desiree had texted him and passes it over to Daddy.

Trucy picks a stool out from the mess of things and rifles through the sketchbook box, finding one and flipping through it. There’s mostly little doodles and the like on the pages, or realistic portraits of faces Trucy doesn’t recognize. She wonders if, were Daddy not so determined to distance himself from the past, she’d know any of them. There is a picture of Miles, and she knows him, so she smiles at that picture and lightly brushes her hand over the pencil markings. Miles looks really angry in the picture, and scribbled right next to him is ‘I’ll save you’.

And Daddy did.

“Alright, let’s see what we have to work with today!”

Desiree announces herself, carrying her own box of tools

“Thought you might not show up for a moment.” Daddy jokes, but it’s one of his hollow-sounding jokes. Desiree laughs anyway.

“Oh please, I’ve been waiting to get a look at this beast for myself ever since you told me about it!” Desiree says and starts going over the bike. She talks about oil and gas and spark plugs and batteries, looking over everything and digging through her stuff and checking things. She says they’re going to need a new battery, and definitely replace just about all of the fluids. Luckily, Desiree is well-capable of doing all of that, she assures them, and they’d be able to get it up and moving enough to get it to her shop where she could do some of the rougher things to do.

“How much do I owe you?” Daddy asks, and Desiree waves her hand.

“We can discuss that later, let’s focus on getting this beauty out of this dusty-old place and back here she belongs, huh?”

Desiree has said that every time, so far, that Daddy asks about price. Trucy can see that it means Desiree doesn’t really want to make Daddy pay for any of it, but it seems to put Daddy more and more on edge every time Desiree says it. He’s waiting for something bad to happen, and his tension over it bleeds into Trucy, even though she’s not worried. Desiree is a nice lady who likes to chat to Trucy and can talk a mile a minute about motorcycles. When she’s not talking about them, she’s talking about her husband, Ron

They walk the bike out of the storage facility, Desiree filling the space with chatter about what the make and model of Aunt Mia’s motorcycle is, and the pluses and minuses of it, and how it’s lucky that it already has a backseat for Trucy. Daddy says that he used to ride with Aunt Mia sometimes, eyes trained on the bike still, as if he expected it to fall apart at a moment’s notice.

Desiree’s red-hot bike is parked out front and she tells them to meet her at her shop. She’ll be able to finish up there, where the rest of her supplies is.

“Don’t worry, she should be able to get you there just fine. And anyway, you can tell me if anything starts sounding worrying!” Desiree says as she climbs onto her bike. It’s been what Daddy has been practicing on, what Daddy even passed his driving test on just yesterday, and the rumble of it had just started to become familiar. Trucy feels like she’s going to miss it, but she’s excited to see how Aunt Mia’s bike works out.

Desiree peels out and leaves Daddy and Trucy standing on the side of the road, Daddy regarding Aunt Mia’s bike like it’s a python that’s going to bite them.

“... maybe this was a bad idea.” Daddy says five months too late.

“You worry too much! C’mon, Dessie’s waiting for us!” Trucy hops next to him, excited to get on the bike. Daddy sighs, turning his helmet over and over in his hands. Trucy has her own, bought a couple months ago, but she hasn’t been allowed on a bike yet. ‘Not until I get my official license’, Daddy had insisted. Now is the time, though.

“But what if something happens? What if I crash, and you get hurt?” He says. Trucy feels a ripple of shock run through her and she looks at Daddy’s face. His expression is grim and an open wound of his emotion. Of worry and fear, “What if I crash and I ruin her bike? What if-”

“Daddy, you’re being dumb” Trucy informs him. Daddy looks at her, and she can already see him starting to close off again, but she steals the last few moments of honesty she can, desperately, “Daddy you can do this, okay? We’re going to be okay. Even if we have to go five miles an hour to get there.”

“I think I’m actually worse at driving slow.” Daddy grumbles. Trucy grabs his hands.

“Then we’ll go really fast. We aren’t giving up on this just because you’re scared.”

Daddy sighs and then ruffles her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’d be stupid to give up right now. It doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take.”

They put their helmets on and climb onto the bike. They both hold their breaths when the engine first starts, and then it roars to life. It’s different than Desiree’s although exactly how, Trucy isn’t sure. She wraps her arms around her daddy’s stomach as they get going, keeping her eyes open. She isn’t scared, she can’t be. She needs to seem sure and trusting over this, for his sake, for their sake, so that they can make it through here together.

Things don’t change a lot with Daddy. They’ve lived in the same place for all this time, and Daddy’s worked at the same bar, and Trucy’s worked at the same bar, and they have the same routines day to week to month to year. This is new, this is change, but it’s a good thing.

They roar down the streets for the first time, Daddy is shaking, Trucy can feel it with how tightly she’s holding onto him. The air roars past them, chillingly-cold.

He did this for me, Trucy thinks, and then, no, he did this for us. For family, so that we can keep moving forwards .

If they had stood still, they would’ve been alright with buses and taxis and rides from friends. But they are moving forward in life, they need the ability to do more, be more independent, further their own things.

And help, here they had help, from Desiree, and from the thoughtfulness of Aunt Mia to leave Phoenix to her bike, and Ron had told Trucy before that Phoenix had helped them (Trucy had already known this, she’s read that case and every other case what feels like a thousand times over, her illicit self-read bedtime stories) and that they’d been wanting to do something for the man ever since they heard about The Disbarment.

It’s sort of funny, how independence and getting help seemed to go hand-in-hand.

Trucy and her Daddy roar down the streets, and her grip loosens as she gets more comfortable, and Daddy stops shaking so badly as he gets into his groove, because he’s done this before and has been training and practicing, and he knows how to ride a bike now, and Desiree has taught him how to maintain it, and now, now they are going towards a new normal, a new schedule, a second half of the darkest time of their lives (of course, Trucy doesn’t know this, and neither does her daddy, and now it seems like the shadows is simply where they will always be living) and they prepare to meet it together.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

2. twisted

The cartoon that came out of the machine was pretty as a picture, perfect in almost every detail, and had a bubbly, positive personality. But she was not what Joey had wanted Susie to become. (Set in an AU where Joey gets perfect toons from his freshly killed employees and STILL isn’t happy, the unpleasable bitch…)

“Progress report to GENT home office, Client; Joey Drew Studios.

With the addition of the new ink recipe to use in the machine, we have made an unbelievable leap in progress and have almost met our client’s expectations. What had started as a machine to mold life sized figures out of ink has now done things that border on being supernatural.

Although Mr. Drew seems unimpressed, even frustrated with the results at times, in spite of the fact that the models have come out identical to their cartoon counterparts.

The process of running the cartoon film through the machine for the figures to imprint on has been successful, but it looks like that unless someone goes through the trouble of making a short that only has ONE character in it, the machine picks what character it makes at seemingly random. That is our client’s complaint; that instead of being user chosen, the machine picks out which living, breathing, thinking ink models it makes at random. Upon working on this, if I were to be in the client’s shoes, I’d have several valid complaints regarding the machine and the models it created, but our client’s complaint… Is that the machine that doesn’t have a system that allows the user to pick and choose which model it makes yet creates a physically flawless model every single time, does not allow the user to pick and choose which model it makes. He never ceases to infuriate me.

On a sour note, there was an incident with the figure in the likeness of a character called ‘The Brute’. Upon its creation, it immediately went and broke our client’s leg in a very… well, brutal fashion too. But fortunately, it has not physically attacked anyone since The Cameraman figure was made as we have threatened to separate them if it keeps up that behavior. It still likes to insult people, and it still does things that unnerve me though. We’re hoping that the rest of the figures will be less violent and or creepy.”

Thomas clicked off the recording and sighed as he looked at the newly made report, there was no way he could submit this to his boss without someone sending in someone to make sure he wasn’t huffing in ink fumes and whatever the Studio workers smoked to consider any of this to be normal.

“Hey Tommy! I think I figured out the issue with the machine! Or rather, its fuel.”

The mechanic grit his teeth and turned to face his client.

“What? I wasn’t aware that there was a problem with it.”

“Why, Tommy, how could you forget? I’m talking about the figure deposit problem of course! Why did we get The Brute when we wanted to get Boris? Why did we get Cameraman when we wanted Bendy? The answer was so simple, why, it was even staring at us the entire time!”

“Uh huh…” Thomas did not look convinced. “And what was this issue?”

“The ingredients, the Ink of course! You simply can’t put blueberry pancake batter in an oven and be surprised when you get blueberry pancakes instead of blueberry muffins, We got those two knuckleheads before we got the real stars of the show because the souls used to make them weren’t fit to make those two, but the machine still did what it does best: made living cartoons.”

Tom had an uneasy feeling in his gut as Joey grabbed his arm and led him to the Ink Machine’s room. He felt like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse, he KNEW what went down in there! He knew the other ingredients, not well, per say, but for long enough to judge them and their characters.

He didn’t shed a single tear when Sammy was used in it, in fact, he was rather pleased with the results before it started acting out like that. He and the music director were almost always at each other’s throats for one reason or another. If you asked him, the ex-musician was strange, rude, clearly mentally unstable, and sometimes even cruel. And even if he wasn’t, his physical health had declined so much over his time at the studio that it was obvious that he would die regardless of whether or not he was put in the machine. Feeding Sammy to that machine was an act of mercy, really, and even if it wasn’t, it served him right to become a- err, The Brute and have him put the former musician in his place- put his villainous ways to a decent cause. Now if only someone could ensure for a fact that The Brute would behave...

Now the other ingredient, Norman Polk, was a different story. The man was old, weird and kinda creepy. On the surface, the man was an ideal candidate. Like Sammy, he would die anyway and nobody would miss him when he did. But on the contrary, he seemed like he still had some good years left in him. And while he was weird and creepy, he had been those things in an oddly endearing way that most of the studio had either liked or tolerated enough to not be bugged by it. The mechanic didn’t know how to explain it, that man reminded Tom of a mysterious, mostly-estranged relative that shows up out of nowhere and was always there for you even if you don’t always see him. So when the man snooped too much for his own good and had to be silenced… Tom could never look the resulting toon in the eye, or in his case, the lens.

But the mechanic couldn’t deny that it needed to be done, after all, the former projectionist was far too nosy for anyone’s sake. Nobody who knows the secret of the Ink Machine (or rather, it’s unconventional secret ingredient needed for its ink) should be free to wander the studio and spill the beans.

And a feeling in his gut was beginning to tell him that that was why he was the next on the chopping block.

He had built it, he learned what it would take to make it work, he had done what it took to make it work, and it was working now; No more models that would only move a tiny bit before collapsing into puddles! No more off model models! No more issues aside from x, y, z… -No more reasons for Joey to keep him alive when it was now too dangerous to his business… 

A tiny voice at the back of his head told him it served him right. The creator of this unholy torture device would now be consumed by it, just like how the maker of the Brazen Bull was the first victim it claimed.

At this point, he was almost morbidly curious on who or what the machine would make him; would it poke fun at his past and make him that territorial junkyard guard, Canoodle? Would it ironically punish him for his greed by making him The Fat Cat of the show, Boswell Lotsobucks? Would it acknowledge that although he was a villain to the bitter end, he still tried to go clean only for demons to drag him back down his dark paths and make him into Charley? Thinking about it, any butcher gang member would be a good enough fit really.

He was a mix of relieved, disappointed, and horrified when he was brought into the room and saw the unconscious voice actress of Alice Angel strapped to a mobile operating table. Joey seemed to ignore his reaction as he proudly showed her off and began to monologue.

“Like Boris, Sammy was a musician, simple-minded, and was very loyal to those he considered friends until the bitter end. But what made Sammy more like the Brute then Boris- Aside from body type, obviously, was that Sammy had quite the short temper on him, one that got messed with often, and a tendency to hold onto a grudge that can’t be swayed away with a good meal or a bad joke… Just like our friend; the Brute.”

Tom stayed speechless as Joey continued his seemingly prepared and rehearsed speech.

“As for Bendy and Norman, well, it’s obvious that those too simply weren’t compatible in the slightest! Sure, they both have their mischievous sides, but that alone doesn’t make a man into a good imp… However, do you know who DOES have more in common with Mr. Polk? That’s right! A certain smart alec-someone who knows a thing or two about anyone, everyone, and everything whether he wants to or not. Someone with a darker, more jaded sense of humor than our little devil, someone who can lurk in the shadows, or in his case, ‘backstage’ for safety or to gather Intel, but be happy and proud to take the front stage when the need arises! ...Alright, I can see that Norman’s soul may have influenced the personality of our Cameraman, but at least he did it in ways that make sense to the character.”

The mechanic continued to stay silent as Joey continued.

“But the main point is: we know what to do to fix this little issue. If we want a main character, we need someone who embodies the soul of that character. And Ms. Campbell here said it herself; Alice is a part of her!”

“Joey…”

“Why, she’d be thanking us if she knew what was coming! This is a dream come true for her! She always seemed to be the happiest when she was singing our angel darling’s songs…”

As if he was snapped out of a trance, the mechanic pulled Joey to his face, gripping the animator’s arms tightly and shaking him up a bit.

“Joey! We can’t do this! Susie isn’t like Norman or Sammy. She’s young, healthy, and still has a lot to live for. Nobody would buy that she passed on from something out of the blue, or that she moved away without warning or telling anyone. Everyone in the studio loves her and talks to her frequently! If we do this, especially so soon, they will make the connection, and they will find out about this. It was bad enough when Norman went, imagine if someone as well loved as her went too!”

Joey just laughed and slapped Tom’s shoulder.

“Oh Tommy, all we need to tell them is that Susie got her big break and is Bringing Alice to life in ways never before seen! And to sell the illusion, also tell them ‘you know how those folks in Hollywood are with their schedules, always a bunch of busy bees.’ They’ll bite, you just have to trust me.”

“What if they don’t?” the mechanic argued. “What if they start snooping around and start to piece together what really happened to her?”

Joey’s smile wavered a bit, but remained steadfast.

“Well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we reach it. And when we do, we’ll have our answer!”

“Nnnnggghhh…”

Both of them shuddered when they heard the voice actress start to stir awake.

“I swore I used stronger stuff in her drink…”

“...Jo...Joey..? ..Mr. Conner..?” The voice actress’s real eye widened in horror as she looked around, and her voice wavered as she grew more and more frantic. “WHat’s going on?! Where am I- Why am I tied up?!”

“S-Susie! Everything’s perfectly fine my dear, you just need to calm down a bit and I’ll explain everything…” He subtly jabbed Thomas in the ribs with his elbow. “Tommy!” He hissed “Throw her in the machine already!”

The frightened voice actress began to struggle against her restraints while Tom hesitated. Joey shot him a glare as he strolled up behind Susie and put a ‘reassuring’ hand on the weeping angel’s shoulder.

“Joey, please… let me go… Don’t do this to me!” Tears were running down the woman’s face, her voice was soft and breaking from her stress. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone…”

“Now, now, Susie, there’s nothing to worry about, yes I know this looks unsettling from your position… But you and Alice are going places, new, big places that most people only dream of seeing! You’re going to bring her to life in ways that will touch the hearts of generations!”

A flash of realization crossed her face.

“Joey… answer me this: when Sammy ‘died from untreated lung cancer’ did he actually die from lung cancer? And when Norman ‘died from a workplace injury’ did he really…?” her voice trailed off a bit with uncertainty before asking her third question. “Did their deaths have anything to do with those two toons that showed up?!”

Her questions were not answered by words, but with actions as the two men stuffed her into the machine. When it turned on, her screams echoed throughout the mostly empty studio, chilling all who heard them to the very bone.

When they finally stopped, the machine whirred and roared to life and Joey rubbed his hands together in glee as he watched the machine work its magic.

Thomas, on the other hand, stood in silence while staring at his hands as dread and guilt sank in his gut.

The former man’s smile fell into a look of confusion when he saw a pair of gloves with ‘X’ marks on them come out, followed by arms that connected to them. That look of confusion fell deeper into a frown when he saw the arms stretch, curl, and twist when the gloves reached the floor as if they were streams of ice cream coming out of the machine at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Alice didn’t have arms that curled and stretched, but Joey knew a certain demoness toon who did; Miss Twisted. He was cursing under his breath, of course it would complete their little trio before giving him what he wanted! Now he wasted his one shot at getting Alice!

The rest of the toon didn’t even get out of the damn machine, it was like she was taunting him by continuing to stretch her arms and let them continue to coil in piles on the floor instead of showing him the finished product.

Furious, he marched over and grabbed the toon demoness’s arms and yanked her out of the damn machine.

“Stop messing around!” He scolded before pausing and reapplying his signature smile. “Your friends Brute and Cameraman have been worried sick about you ever since their creation! You wouldn’t want to keep them waiting for you any longer than they’ve already been, right?”

He could’ve been imagining it, but he swore that she had a look of pure terror on her face before she put on a fake smile of her own. And was it just him, or was this Miss Twisted’s left eye slightly discolored, glassy looking, if that made sense for someone with pitch black pie-cut eyes. The grayer eye she had reminded him of Susie Campbell’s fake eye.

“Y-yeah! You’re right!” She pushed Joey out of her face, clearly uncomfortable by his staring but pretending to be perfectly fine. “I can’t keep my boys waiting for too long, who knows what they’ll do?” She chuckled nervously. “So… where are you keeping them? where are they hiding?”

“Tommy here will be happy to show you, just follow him and-”

“Thanks!”

The demoness chipperly chirped and swiftly yanked Thomas out of the room at a speed that almost insulted the man.

[ladyfiresfanfiction]

Flying the Nest; One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest Fic- Chapter Two.

Sorry I am late, guys and girls! I completely forgot that Sunday had been Easter, so it was a busy day with family. This is a bit longer than chapter one and has a bit more of a backstory on Janie. I’m also trying something new to include the reader in my story, too! Let me know what you think of this idea and the second chapter. I’ll be staring the next chapter tomorrow! Enjoy :)

I don't remember speaking this much since I received the call that Charles Bogney had been found in his family's guest room, hanging from his belt behind the closet door. His mother found him, a bottle of Percodan underneath him, what little was left strewn below his feet on the wood flooring, an empty bottle of 40-ounce Belgian imported beer shattered on the ground from when he dropped it as he lost consciousness and passed away, alone and in misery. Our mutual friend, another toxic ex-boyfriend of mine whose name was Bryan Harris, had to be the one to call me. I had been trying to get into contact with Charles for the last few weeks of his short life. I felt something was wrong. Deep inside I knew if I didn't get a hold of Charley, he would die prematurely. Unfortunately, my gut feeling and seemingly spot on premonition had come to fruition. The first few weeks after Charles had died, I blacked it out. I remember feeling as if the world stopped and froze as Bryan had stammered the news of Charles's death. My heart skipped a few beats and my vision started to become blurry. I dropped to my knees, the phone on the ground as I let out guttural cries of pain that escaped my lips and waves of tears burned my eyes like acid. I cried inconsolably for the first 96 hours of Charles leaving the planet. I couldn't make the trip to his native state of California for his funeral, and I refused calls and visitors for much of the first month of his passing. My only nutrition became opium, cocaine, amphetamines, and alcohol. My family treated me as if I was a lepper, never understanding I had lost the great love of my life, despite the toxic and harrowing past we shared.

 Mac listened intently as he showed me around the grounds. The outside, where the patients (which we coined them the lovable nuts) could come out for fresh air and sunshine for an allotted amount of time per day was fenced in, but it was a spacious and breathtaking piece of land. Large trees that covered most of the land, little trails for patients to walk with supervising orderlies or nurses, tables for patients and the staff alike to enjoy a little solitude during the day. It even had a fairly big basketball court and exercise areas near the shockingly high chainlink fence, which was adorned with razor wire to dismay any patient who thought of running away from the hospital. Overall, it looked like paradise for someone who enjoyed being a prisoner. Mac talked of hearing about the patients going on some field trip, however, it would be just for the boys. The girls had had their own trip last week. As we stopped at the entrance of the second-floor corridor in front of a massive pair of white double doors, Mac turned to me and looked broken. He cleared his throat, forcing me to pay attention and face him.

 "I'll never forgive myself for leaving you with Harry and Ethel. You probably wouldn't be as bad off if I just would have taken you with me. You were just a little girl, though. And I was an irresponsible and young angsty teenager. I thought maybe they would have taken better care of you than they did me. I'm so sorry Jane. I have done horrible things but nothing has given me more pride and made me want to be a better man than having you as my kid sister. You'll never have to be alone again." Mac spoke in a low yet sincere voice.

 "It wasn't your job to parent me. You were eighteen when you struck out on your own, and I was only nine. They were so awful to you. You had to get out before they drove you certifiable. Charles brought me here for a reason. I feel it. I'm just glad to have my big brother back. We're going to make this place ours, Mackie. Then when we get out, we can start lives worth living." I said, patting his shoulder.

 "If you need me, even if it's at night, I'll come find you. There are phones in here, all you have to do is call and ask for me. I'll be here in a jiffy. I'll see you during our counseling session with Ratched and the crew tomorrow. Get some rest, Baby Jane."

 As soon as I walked in, I was brought to intake. My medical history was repeated, I was weighed, my temperature taken, asked a slew of questions, and then I was given an ugly patient garb to wear. As I was taken to the room I would be sleeping in, I saw that in each room there was a telephone with a pamphlet that had numbers to the nurse's station as well as the number for Spivey's office and the number for the nurse's station on the men's floor. Each room on the ladie's floor had three beds for three patients per room, a chair and desk, and a nice comfy-looking Cloth chair with a desk on one side and in the far right corner a bookcase filled with books to read. I would have been far more comfortale to be in a solitary room, or shared a room with my brother and his roommates, but it was against the hospital's policy for men and women to be roommates. I sighed, taking in a breath of courage, and went straight to bed, avoiding the two people I would be bunking with until I had the energy to introduce myself. In fullfledged withdrawal from opiates and alcohol I was  writhing in pain already after only 14 hours without a hit and a drink and I was so sleep deprived. I felt dead on my feet. I threw my haggard body on my bed and soon enough, sleep overpowered me.

 The comfort of unconsciousness would not last for long, though.

 The Ladies ward had come alive with an ear piercing scream in the dead of night. It was only a quarter past one a.m. when animalistic cries and screams of "Charley! Please! No!" had caused an overnight nurse, the security guard, and an on call doctor, and every patient on the ward to jolt awake in sheer terror. After several unsuccessful attempts at shaking my writhing body awake, a slight slap to my cheeks jostled me and my eyes widened as I jolted upright in bed, taking in gulp fulls of oxygen as if I had been strangled. I shrink back as I see a roommate of mine looking worried and sitting gingerly on the edge of my bed.

 "Are you okay?" You ask.

"I-I-I'm fine. I-I'm so-sorry. I... I have night terrors.." I stammered, trying to explain my problem.

"I have them, too. Don't be sorry. My name is (y/n), but everybody calls me (y/n/n), what is your name?" You asked.

"It's ni-ice to meet you, (y/n). My name is Janie McMurphy."

 Before we could get to know each other further, three staff members burst into the room with a mix of alarm and annoyance etched into their faces. Turkle, the nighttime guard of the hospital joined a nighttime nurse  whose name I had already forgotten, along with Spivey's nighttime replacement, Doctor Stuart. Another body scrambled in not too long after, a flustered and scared Mac. I buried my reddening face in my hands as four voices bombarded me with questions I was too tired and ultimately too annoyed to deal with.

 "Sweetheart, what happened?" Turkle asked. "You have a set of lungs on you, don'tcha?"

"Do I need to call Doctor Spivey for you, Miss McMurphy?" Doctor Stuart asked.

"I'm going to get you a diazepam pill, Miss McMurphy. It's all okay, I promise. Mister McMurphy, we'll give you five minutes then you need to go back to your own bed on the bottom floor." The nurse said, winking at Mac.

 "She had a night terror, Mister Turkle," (y/n) began. "It's okay, I got her up. Could I have one too, Nurse Katt? I can't fall asleep tonight." they asked.

"Sure. I'll be right back. Doctor Stuart will be sure to write this occurrence in a note for Nurse Ratched and Doctor Spivey and you can see them both tomorrow morning. Five minutes, Mac." Nurse Katt added as she, Turkle, and Stuart left the room.

 (Y/N) shyly smiled at Mac when they made their way back to their bed, turning on their side to face the wall to give the two of us some form of privacy. I was hugging my knees to my chest in the bed, avoiding Mac's eyes. He let out an audible sigh and sat beside me, placing a comforting arm around my shoulders. I trembled, trying to keep my eyes from overflowing with tears and took in a shaky breath, resting my head on my brother’s shoulder. We didn't talk; we sat in silence until I faced him.

 "I'm sorry you came up here, Mac, but I'm fine." I said.

“The nurse called me as soon as she heard your first scream. I came as soon as I could. Why are you sorry?” He asked softly.

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, but mostly for waking you up, brother. I just can’t control these fucking night terrors.” I replied, scrunching my eyes shut as more tears threatened to brim over.

"How long have these damn things been happening?" He asked, looking down at me.

"For almost two years... Since Charles killed himself." I replied, quietly.

"Meet me in my room around seven o'clock, ok? We'll have breakfast together and head to therapy together. It's going to be okay, Jane. Thank you, (Y/N), for helping my sister, sweetheart. I appreciate it." Mac smiled as he stood up and ventured back to his own floor.

 The next morning I awoke before my two roommates, one being (Y/N) who stayed up with me until the diazepam knocked us into another universe, and another patient around our age named Elise who had slept through the night terror debacle.  (Y/N) said that Elise was used to their night terrors and usually saved a few barbiturates so nothing would disturb her at night.

I made my way to the first floor, skulking into the first room on the right, which Mac said would be the room he shared with “one giant motherfucker named Chief, but he’s harmless so don’t be scared.” I felt uncomfortable in my new uniform, or prisoner’s gear as I called it. As I looked around and made my way through the large corridor and found Mac laughing with a rather large Native man, I nearly ran right into someone.

“Oh! God, I am s-“ I began, finally taking in who I nearly ran right through.

“I-I-Its n-no problem, Muh-muh-Miss.” A very red Billy Bibbit replied.

“No, really, Billy, I am very sorry. I was looking for my brother and just wasn’t watching where I was going.” I smiled, looking away shyly.

“M-M-Mac  is-is-is ri-ri-ri-right in there, Miss.” He smiled, pointing to the door behind me.

“Call me Janie.” I said, finally looking at him and finding myself entranced by his big blue eyes.

“Okay… J-Ja-Ja-Jaaanie.” He smiled back, forcing my name out through stutters that flustered him.

“Did you, uh, wanna have breakfast with Mac and me?” I asked.

“O-Oh, I’d like to, b-b-b-b-but  I have my morn-ning appointment wi-ith Doctor Sp-Spivey now. Raincheck?” He asked, hopefully.

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Billy.” I smiled, watching as he walked away.

“My dear, dear sister,” Mac began, smirking devilishly as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“I do believe you would eat that boy alive if you two became an item. Come on in, there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

 I walked into Mac’s small room and saw the man he was speaking with earlier, getting his shirt on. He nodded at me and I waved. I looked around their room and was surprised at how gloomy and small it was. The ladies had larger rooms with picture windows and furniture. However, the men’s room only held two beds and a kind of chain fence separating rooms with the other men in the ward. Their one large window in the room was locked down tight and had bars on it so the patients had no way of escaping, even if they managed to open their window. I watched Mac talk quietly with the man he called Chief, leaving me standing there awkwardly. Over an intercom it was announced that it was time for medication and all patients needed to walk single-file to the medication window. I walked out with Mac and Chief and found that the women in the hospital were standing in a line next to the men, and I stood with Elise and (Y/N).  

“Remember, Janie, breakfast after this. We’ll go to the cafeteria; there’s a small window table we can eat at.” Mac whispered, and I nodded.

Billy and I stood in line side-by-side, and every time I looked over, I caught him staring at me, which made him turn scarlet. I felt self-conscious, wondering if I looked too fat in this uniform, or if my hair was a rat’s nest, or if there was something wrong with me. Mac was utterly amused and mouthed “Billy has a crush on you” to me, but I rolled my eyes and shook my head. He was just being nice, or so I thought.                                                                                   

The doctor put me on diazepam at night in hopes of ending my night terrors, and in the day time had me on a cocktail of medication. Something for my debilitating anxiety, two different medications that were supposed to work together for depression, something for my PTSD and flashbacks, and a mood stabilizer. Within ten minutes I was at the table with Mac, and he was telling me how he ended up here, a girl had lied about her age and her parents found them having sex. She lied that he raped her and her parents pressed charges and that while he was innocent, he figured he would never beat the case so he came here as a last ditch effort  to avoid spending a third of his life in prison. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I nodded. I believed my brother and I loved him. He had a knack for choosing the wrong girls as I had a knack for choosing the wrong guys.

Several of his new friends sat with us; Taber, who I noticed liked to scream a lot, a pompous and annoyingly whiny man named Harding, a smart and friendly older man named Cheswick, and a little guy who didn’t talk much but was always smiling, whose name was Martini. Chief was minding his own business and standing in the far left corner of the cafeteria, near the exit and watching everyone. He liked to make the staff think he was deaf, mute, and dumb. Once Mac found out that in fact, Chief could not only talk and hear but he was as sharp as a tack, he laughed heartily and gave the Native man a high five, impressed with his trickery and his way of staying sane in this insane place.

“Hey, Billy boy! Can ya show my sister the good Doc’s office? She kinda forgot where it was and I’m still eating this slop here. I’d owe ya one.” He said, winking at me.

Billy had stopped by the table as he had finished his meeting with the doctor to let me know Doctor Spivey was looking for me. He tried to avoid my gaze but caught several glimpses of my blue-green eyes before bashfully turning his head away. I nodded and stood up as Mac grabbed my wrist.

“U-u-Uh, su-sure, M-M-Mac. Come on, Ja-Ja-Janie.” Billy replied, holding out his hand to me.

“Thanks, Billy.” I muttered, glaring at Mac who feigned innocence.

 We didn’t speak much on the way to the Doctor’s office. I felt lost in a sea of fog since this was my first day taking the new medication, and Billy seemed pensive along with being super nervous. As we made it to the office, we stood outside there, not speaking nor looking at each other right away.

“Will you be at th-th-the therapy session today, Janie?” He asked, looking at me this time.

“I sure will. Ratched knows what happened last night and I guess wants me to talk about it today.” I replied, feeling nauseous at the thought.

“Don-don-don’t worry. She ca-can be mean, b-b-b-but deep down she’s a n-n-n-nice lady. She’s friends w-with my m-m-mother, so I’ve known her mo-most of my l-l-life. I’ll be there for y-y-you if things get hard. I promise.” He explained.

This time I looked at him. Really looking and overcome with a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time; safety. I barely knew this cute boy but he, along with my brother, were ready to protect me and get involved in my messy life. I wanted to cry and I wanted to hug Billy, but I didn’t know how he would take that just yet. I smiled and thanked him, finally letting go of his hand before watching him walk away. He had a sweet smile plastered on his lips, his eyes lit up as we said our goodbyes. His soft brown curls bouncing as he jogged back to the cafeteria. I slid down the wall and sat there, trying to gain my composure before recounting what I dealt with last night. The door opened after five minutes and I looked up to see the doctor himself extend a hand and help me to my feet.

“Ah, there you are, Miss McMurphy. Let’s get to the bottom of these night terrors, shall we?”

[youllallriseintheink]

Allies in Ink Hell

So... @lonelyghostwriter and I came up with the idea of an AU where Henry reunites with a partner while in ink Hell and they’re both perfect toons. So I decided to write this. 

Also for the sake of this story I’m not doing shared consciousnesses. Instead, I’m going to go the route of certain ink creatures having certain strong instincts.

I hope it’s half as cute as I was trying to make it!

---

“He meant the world to me,” Grant said, probably not for the first time that day. His hands were shaking as he held the cup of tea in his hands.

Joey patted his back in a gesture of comfort. A mere few minutes ago, Grant had been knocking on his door, expecting to find… what? His former employer with a knife to his husband’s throat? He hadn’t known. All he knew was that two weeks ago, Henry had gone missing after he’d gone off to pay Joey Drew a visit, and the police hadn’t found the faintest trace of him. Of course, when that apartment door had opened to reveal an old, decrepit man in a wheelchair, Grant’s wall of denial had come crashing down. Henry was gone. And Joey, apparently changed by the years, had been kind enough to let him in, offer him a drink, and listen to him talk about Henry and the life they’d shared together. Joey, too, seemed shocked and horrified to hear of Henry’s death, but he said that his stories could wait.

“Thank you for listening. And I’m sorry you had to hear about Henry’s death from a perfect stranger. I just- I thought- but then I saw that you couldn’t have.”

“It’s fine,” Joey said, “Grief does that to people. I would know. Tell me, are you starting to feel light-headed?”

Grant nodded. Somehow, despite the strange question, he felt almost supernaturally calm, like an anesthetic was kicking in.

“That isn’t grief. And you were right about me. I made Henry a Boris and put him in a loop. Sent him to another dimension to try and give my story a happy ending. You know how a frail old man like me manages to kill someone as strong and healthy as he was?”

Grant’s eyes went wide for a single second of realization, then rolled back in his head. He collapsed unconscious on the table. “Poisoned tea.”

Sacrificing a person was an arduous task at Joey’s level of mobility, and he didn’t have forever before the poison wore off and the man woke up. Lacking the strength to move the body to a more convenient place, he was forced to draw a pentagram in the middle of his kitchen, navigating around table legs. He also drew a second pentagram to rid the area of the body, the bloodstains, and the pentagrams themselves. Thankfully, he’d remembered to bring his knife with him before getting out of his wheelchair and onto the floor, because getting back up again was a challenge. After slitting the man’s throat, though, it was just a matter of waiting for the machine to do its thing. Within an hour, an Edgar came out of the ink machine, unconscious, just as Henry had been. Joey put it into the sketch dimension and considered the crisis averted. It would have simply been too dangerous to have a suspicious person on the loose.

---

The first thing Grant could feel in the sketch dimension was an overpowering animal instinct to find... something. He wasn’t sure what, but the desire was desperate and overwhelming. Everything else could wait. Thankfully, being uh- whatever he was- also came with some perks- namely, sticky feet that allowed him to climb. As soon as he found the ink machine room, he was skittering down the chains until he came upon five creatures fighting. On one side, there was a monkey-looking creature and a creature that looked like a decapitated pirate with its head held by a fishing rod. They seemed incomplete somehow. The other side had the same two creatures, and also a spider-like creature. Grant knew, instantly, that that was how it was supposed to be. He screeched to the two butcher gangs, and as soon as they saw him, the fight broke up. The complete butcher gang left, and Grant jumped over to join the other two creatures.

Once he was alongside the other two creatures, the high of animal instinct subsided and everything about his situation hit Grant in the face at once. The cartoonish environment. His tiny, ridiculous body. The fact that Joey had killed both him and his husband, and that Henry was still out there somewhere. The butcher gang passed by a dead cartoon wolf strapped to a stretcher. Grant stopped to stare at it before the Charley pulled him along. Had that been Henry? Like there were multiple of whatever he was, were there multiple of those? And by extension, had that Boris been a person, too? Had the two creatures he was currently following? This world was so new and strange.

---

Sadly, for a long time, it seemed that there was no way to find Henry. By the standards of an ink creature, Grant was doing well- he and the other two butcher gang members had a home in Bendyland, a protector who took the form of a possessed amusement park ride, and clever leader in the form of their Barley. Even more lucky than all that, though, was the fact that his two companions had once been his old friends, Shawn and Lacie. At least, Grant thought that until he realized that that meant his friends and died and spent over a decade in this place.

Grant didn’t know when he first saw the Boris his husband had become. It had seemed like any Boris. The Boris had distracted him and his companions in order to switch a lever. It was back three days later, and then another three days after that, and after that, and so on. Each time, it went and damaged Bertrum afterwards, forcing Lacie to repair him. And this coincided with Alice speaking over the speakers. Grant couldn’t understand her anymore- English was lost on him, and apparently on his companions as well- but she had always sounded so threatening.

I put him in a loop...

The next time the Boris passed by, Grant refused to follow the sound of the can (not easy while his butcher gang instincts were telling him to). The Boris was unphased and threw a can at his head instead, forcing a squeak out of him. This wasn’t working. Grant ran into the little storeroom and pulled the lever for him. Henry smiled (even in wolf form, Grant could recognize that smile), patted him on the head like a pet, and left for his next objective.

No, Grant thought, That can’t be all I can do for him.

That night, he explained everything to Shawn and Lacie, and they planned for the next loop.

---

Henry was so accustomed to the loops by now that nothing about them phased him much anymore. After defeating Bertrum this time around, he’s walked into the haunted house as always, and as always, the cart had taken him to a part of Alice’s laboratory, where he was strapped down. He waited for her to finish sharpening her knives and begin the agonizing procedure that would make him strong enough to protect her from anything. After the procedure he’d turn on her, kill her, and eventually make it to the basement to kill Bendy and start the cycle over. Again. And again. And again.

On the other side of the room, chattering sounded. This was no surprise- butcher gang members often chattered for no apparent reason, and Alice had at least ten of them in cages or in gurneys. The noise picked up, as though they were all trying to be as loud as possible, and under it, Alice could hear the sound of a cage unlocking. She stood up to see seven members and counting who were roaming free and freeing others. She ran over and slashed at them with her knife, but it was no use. Two Charleys grabbed onto her arms and pulled her to the ground as three other butcher gang members crawled over her. Soon, they had pounded her into a puddle of ink.

Lacie took a good look at the ratios- they’d freed three full butcher gangs, who were now leaving peacefully. There were two Barleys and an Edgar left bound. They’d have to be freed later, and very carefully in order to avoid disputes.

Grant went over to Henry and undid the straps that were holding him on the gurney. Henry smiled. It must have been his little friend from the last loop! And it did have similar body language to it. Very familiar body language- not that Henry could quite place it. Once Henry was free, the little Edgar tried dragging him somewhere by the arm (though Henry eventually picked him up and let him point instead, so he wouldn’t have to be awkwardly bent over). The other two members followed. It took him back to the room with the switch. It was his little buddy.

Borises did not understand the language of butcher gang members. Only butcher gang members did. But Borises were expert at non-verbal communication, and soon he’d figured out that the Edgar wanted him to stay. Henry couldn’t- not for the long run, anyhow. He had a time loop to escape from and a life to get back to. But he may as well have had a home base to plan his next move. This was quite the unconventional loop after all.

From that point on, Henry stayed at least one night with the butcher gang with each loop, after they saved him. Often the little Edgar would crawl in with him, and Henry would hold him against his chest like a teddy bear. He’d wondered if the Edgar was Grant at this point, but chose to deny it. There was no reason for Joey to have gone after him, and it was easier on his mind to believe that this was just an Edgar that shared Grant’s mannerisms. Henry missed Grant terribly, especially when he was with this Edgar who reminded Henry so much of him, but it was better to think that Grant was safe, rather than enduring this alongside him. He could have written out the question and asked the creature, but truthfully, a part of him didn’t want to know.

With each loop, the Edgar would follow him up to a certain point, then leave to be back with its gang. Instincts were powerful. After a few loops, the entire gang started following him. They helped him in combat until they were defeated, and the Barley knew the location of all sorts of hidden rooms.

The studio was Hell. But Henry was glad to have allies.

[invaderdoom78]

New Moon Night part 2

“So what’s with all of the guns on the wall in the basement?” Bella asked as they sat down to eat the pizza Peter had ordered for them

“Oh, uh, I hunt vampires”

“Really?” Bella asked

“For a few years now. It’s actually how I met Aro”

“So” Bella started taking a bite of her pizza “is it hard killing vampires?”

“It varies from vampire to vampire,” Peter said “but if I get them in the heart right away with my steak gun that normally takes them out”

“Really?” Bella asked raising an eyebrow “Edward told me that vampires can only be killed by dismemberment and setting their bodies on fire”

“That’s true for some of them but if you use something that’s got witch's magic on it then it’ll kill them regardless of their, I guess, species. I could teach you how to shoot a gun if you want”

“...Yes,” Bella said, well aware that Victoria was still a potential threat to her life “uh, where should we go shoot?”

“There’s a spot out in the desert,” Peter said

“Is that legal?” Bella asked

“No idea,” Peter said taking a drink from his soda “but I’m not the only one who uses the spot”

“Ok,” Bella said ignoring the image of Edward that appeared, telling her not to do it

“You wanna pick out the gun?”

“Sure!”

With their lunch finished the two made their way back down to the basement so Bella could pick out her gun. Now Peter didn’t have the most impressive collection of firearms, a couple of shotguns, a revolver, his steak gun, and a wrangler and because of the small selection he was fully expecting Bella to choose the shotgun, especially since it was the best choice when dealing with vampires, but that wasn’t what she picked.

“Where are you two going?” Aro asked eyeing Peter as he put his shotgun and the wrangler Bella had picked out into their carrying cases

“Out to the desert to shoot some guns,” Peter said

“Did you put on sunscreen?” Aro asked already knowing the answer

“No” Peter scoffed

“Do you remember what happened last time?”

Peter did, he’d taken the twins out to shoot as well and when they got back home almost his entire face was burnt and the twins kept insisting on poking at it until it started peeling.

“It’ll be fine”

“No,” Aro said firmly

“...Fine” Peter gave in after a brief staredown with the vampire, walking over to an end table grabbing two bottles of sunscreen out of the drawer “here Bella” he handed her the smaller one

“Thanks”

Walking over to the hall mirror Bella stood in front of it as she put on the sunscreen, watching as Aro tried to help Peter put the sunscreen on his face while the hunter insisted that he could do it himself.

“There,” Peter asked once Aro was done “you happy now?”

“Very,” Aro said smiling

Turning around Bella held out the bottle of sunscreen she’d been holding and was about to set it onto the coffee table, but Aro stopped her.

“Hold on a minute, dear,” Aro said reaching out to wipe in the small amount of sunscreen she’d missed on her cheek, rubbing it in the rest of the way with a gentleness that she never expected from someone like him

Once they reached the spot in the desert Peter realized that he didn’t have any protective wear for Bella to use, so they had to improvise with a pair of Aro’s big sunglasses to protect her eyes as the vampire covered her ears with his hands and just like he did with Jane, Peter showed the young woman how to hold the Wrangler and where to position her feet before she shot at the five soda cans he’d set up; managing to nick all of them on the side.

“You’re a very good shot, dear,” Aro said resting his hand on her shoulders as Peter took the rest of them out with his shotgun

“My dad used to teach me how to shoot his gun a long time ago, but my mom found out and told him to stop”

“Did he teach you anything else?” Aro asked

“You mean like self-defense?” Bella asked setting down her gun “not really”

“Then allow me to show you,” Aro said

The vampire showed her the basics of self-defense poses, having talked Peter into being the practice dummy.

“Good” Aro praised as Bella delivered an elbow strike to Peters jaw, having enough self-control to stop herself from actually hitting her new uncle

Despite how quickly Bella was picking up on the techniques, it was quickly becoming apparent that training out in the middle of the desert probably wasn’t the best idea as it didn’t take much longer after that for Peter and Bella to become coated in sweat, so much so that it had almost completely soaked through their clothing. It was at this point that Peter decided that they should go home and get changed into something that wasn’t going to stick to their skin, both Peter and Bella hopping into the shower when they got home. Stepping out of the bathroom Peter dried his hair off with a towel as Aro sat on the edge of the bed running a brush through his long hair.

“It seems like Bella has settled in rather well,” Aro said

“Yeah,” Peter said tossing the towel at the hamper by his closet door

“I, overheard the conversation you and Bella had earlier,” Aro said as Peter crawled onto their bed

“I figured you did,” Peter said crawling up behind Aro, peppering the vampire's shoulder and the side of his neck with kisses

“We have laws that have been put into place solely to keep the existence of our kind a secret and it clearly states that vampires are not supposed to let themselves be known to humans”

“So should I be worried?

“If you hadn’t befriended Elizabeth then yes. Being what she is, the people that are associated with her and her family have immunity to our laws. Lest we risk facing a half-demon's wrath”

“Is Bella in danger then?” Peter asked resting his chin on the vampire's shoulder

“That depends,” Aro said taking hold of Peters wrists wrapping his human's arms around his waist leaning back into the embrace

“On what?”

“Whether or not the Cullens have any enemies”

“What about your lot?”

“Well if one of my guards discovers her she will be brought back to Volterra for a trial to determine whether or not she will be turned or executed” he felt Peter tense up behind him “don’t worry darling if it ever does come to that I will make sure that her life is spared and that she has a home in the castle”

“It's a good thing she wants to be turned then”  

“You know, you really are so much more caring than you want people to believe” Aro hummed “it's rather sweet actually; you treating Jane and Alec as if they were your own, helping Amy through getting the polluted blood out of her, reassuring your friend Charley that she would be safe. It’s a good thing I was able to snatch you up when I did”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, darling” Aro said nuzzling Peters cheek “just thinking”

Aro untangled himself from Peter's arms and got off the bed.

“Where’re you going?” Peter asked reaching out for the vampire

“The day is still young,” Aro said softly, placing a kiss on Peter's forehead knowing what he wanted

Flopping back onto the bed Peter watched Aro walk out of the room. Groaning Peter forced himself to get off the bed and get dressed before going out to the living room where he saw Bella and Aro sitting on the couch together, the vampire brushing her semi-dry hair. Sitting in front of them was the chest he kept all of his movies in, Bella looking through his collection.

“You have any preferences?” Peter asked taking a seat on the couch with them

“I like Stephen King stuff”

“I have Stephen King, but Lizzy has The Shining and all the IT movies so I’d need to get them from her” Peter said pulling out his phone so he could ask her for the movies

“Oh” Bella started but was interrupted by the front door opening and Lizzy stepping through, holding the DVDs “you don…”

“Here,” Lizzy said tossing the cases to Peter 

“Thanks, bitch” Peter said, catching them noticing how Lizzy and Bella were kinda staring at each other “that’s Bella. Bella this is Lizzy”

“Hi,” Bella said

“What’re the kids doing tomorrow?” Peter asked

“I think they’re all off,” Lizzy said, still looking at Bella like she was trying to piece some things together “why?”

“I’m trying to help Bella find a hobby”

“Cool,” Lizzy said giving Aro a two-finger salute before she left

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Aro said standing up

“Oh come on,” Peter said, grabbing the vampire's sleeve “at least watch The Shining or Misery with us. I’m sure you’ll like them”

“Alright” Aro sighed

“I’ll make some popcorn then,” Peter said standing up walking back to the kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to pop when Lizzy texted him

                                           Demon Bitch (Lizzy)

So has Bella shown any interest in vampires?

                                                        Yeah she said she wants to be turned

                                              And Aro told me he cant see her thoughts

That makes sense. 

One of her great grandparents was either a vampire themselves or one of their parents was a vampire so that’s why she can use her mental ability as a human and why she’s so keen on being turned. The vampire part of her DNA is calling out because of how close she’s become to, who I’m assuming are the Cullens as they’re the only coven I’m aware of that live up in that area of the US. It’ll probably also make the transition and blood lust easier.

                                                                    You gotta be fucking kidding me

No

                               The fuck am I supposed to do with that information

Just thought I’d let you know.

🍑💨

“Ok,” Peter said, slipping the phone back into his pocket “Lizzy’s sending me farts again!”

“You are the one that decided to befriend her” Aro called back from the couch

“You say that like it’s my fault”

“Would you rather her come and do it in the house?”

“No,” Peter said walking back into the living room with popcorn

Aro only stuck around long enough to watch Misery as while he did agree that it was a good adaptation and movie he still preferred the books. It was about midnight when Aro noticed that Peter hadn’t come back to bed yet, so he got up and walked out to the living room, spotting  Peter and Bella both asleep on the couch, Peter slumped back into it, head tilted back, Bella slumped against his side.

“Oh” Aro chuckled quietly approaching the piece of furniture

Picking up the remote Aro turned off the TV before gently lifting Bella off of the couch making sure not to wake either as he moved the young woman to her temporary room, tucking her under the covers before back out and doing the same for Peter. The next morning Bella woke up more confused than Peter had, as he was used to it at this point, wondering how she’d ended up in bed when she remembered falling asleep on the couch. Kicking off the blankets Bella changed into her clothes and went out into the kitchen, looking through the fridge to see if she could find anything that she could make for breakfast when Peter came out of his room wearing his sleep pants.

“Morning” Peter yawned getting to work making himself some coffee

“Morning” Bella said, grabbing a carton of eggs “where’s Aro?”

“Taking a shower,” Peter said watching as Bella started cooking some eggs for them 

Taking a seat at the counter Peter pulled out his phone, scrolling through it as he waited for the eggs to finish cooking when Aro came out of the bedroom, fully dressed and looking like he was ready to go traveling.

“Where’re you going?” Peter asked, eyeing the vampire 

“I have to go back to Italy” Aro sighed grabbing his cloak out of the closet by the door

“For how long?”

“Hopefully not long” Aro said placing one hand on his humans cheek placing a kiss on the other before walking over to Bella “it was wonderful meeting you” he hugged her “take care and maybe we’ll meet again”

“Maybe” Bella said, feeling a bit saddened that the vampire was leaving so early as despite Edwards warnings about him she had grown to enjoy the vampires company

Giving Peter one more kiss Aro stepped out of the house so he could head off for Italy.

“So do you wanna go over to Lizzy’s today?” Peter asked pouring himself another cup of coffee 

“Sure” Bella said as Peter grabbed a key out of the bowl by the front door 

Aro called several hours after Bella had left.

“Hey” Peter said, answering his phone as he slouched on the couch watching his T.V. “how was the flight?”

“Fine” Aro sighed “though I don’t see why I was needed. This was a simple matter. How is Bella doing?”

“She’s out with Michael and the others” 

“Oh good” Aro said, the smile obvious in his voice, “is she getting along with them?”

“Don’t know. I haven’t heard from her since she left” Peter said noticing Bella as she stepped into the house out of the corner of his eye “hey I gotta go Bella just came back”

“Alright, good bye, darling”

“Bye” Peter said, looking at the fading cut on Bella’s cheek “the hell happened?”

“I killed a ghoul and then Eleanor made us dinner. Here” Bella said handing Peter a tupperware container “she told me to give this to you” 

“Cool” Peter said taking the container 

“What have you been doing?” Alice demanded storming into the living room from the basement door “why haven’t I been able to see you and then all of a sudden I see you being attacked by that thing and now Edward thinks you’re dead!” 

“Who the fuck are you and how the fuck did you get into my house!” Peter demanded, mentally going over where he’d hidden the guns on this level of the house, moving so that he was between Bella and Alice 

“Alice?” Bella asked confused “what are you doing here?”

“Edwards going to the Volturi!” Alice said, eyebrows furrowed “he wants to die too” 

“Realy?” Peter asked looking unamused “he breaks up with her the way he did and his first thought when he thinks she’s dead is to kill himself not, oh I don’t know, call Charlie and ask about it or even come back to investigate it himself?”

“Apparently” Alice shrugged “but we don’t have time to think about it!” Edward plans on revealing himself so the Volturi will kill him”

“Alright” Bella sighed “I’ll help”

“Wot?” Peter asked looking at Bella in disbelief 

“Can you wait for me out in the car” Bella said to Alice who did what she was asked 

“Ok I get it” Peter said, placing his hands on Bella's shoulders “I get it, but for the love of God don’t take him back. If he really does want to get back together with you make him work for it” he pulled her into a hug “and be careful. I have no idea what might happen over there and Aro can only do so much”

“I will”

“Call me when you get there” 

“Ok” Bella said before hurrying out of the house

Bella P.O.V.

I can do this. I thought to myself as Alice tore out of Peters driveway. I can face Edward again and even if something does happen I have Peter to turn to, he knew what I had going through and I had new friends now, ones that I didn’t have to lie to about Edward or werewolves or anything that has happened to me since I got to Forks. And if worse did come I had two options one, I could agree to be turned and live in Voltera with Aro or I could tell them about Lizzy and maybe that would give me some type of immunity, for now, but that option could also bring up some issues with Edward and his family especially considering how hostile the relationship between werewolves and vampires is, I can only imagine that it might be the same with witches and demons and that could create a whole other layer of problems. Either way the next few hours would definitely prove to be interesting.

[creed-of-cats]

Zagreus: Part 3 Notes

-what the FUCK is that bell

-ok I'm definitely starting gallifrey soon

-how does charlie know about regeneration and the different faces????

-i feel like the authors realizing what a mess this is is being channeled through he characters rn

-eight is in the very unfamiliar situation of being locked in a dungeon and being tortured. Wow. Has never happened to him before, i’m sure lol

-Tardis 👏🏼 appreciation 👏🏼 time 👏🏼 cause nobody reSPECTS HER IN THIS HOUSE

-Romana is a Mean Girl

-eight is getting very sassy, he must be very stressed

-is this...the timeless child...but Rassilion just isn't mentioning the "oh yeah and the doctor happened to be yeeted out of here"

-"You are my weapon, my creature" uhhhh yeah, another thing to add to the "Big finish did this first"

-christ, the one thing the doctor wants is to not be a pawn of the timelords and it just keeps happening and every time they come out of it they're even more traumatized and shattered, and fuck I'm sad

-i’m sorry fake seven dying made me snort

-oh gosh Eight sounds so wrecked when he says he's zagreus this time :(

-ROMANA STOP CALLING THE TARDIS A MACHINE YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER

-ISBDIWJDN THE FUCKING MUSIC SLOWING DOWN WHEN ROMANA TELLS LEELA TO STOP BEING A DRAMATIC BITCH

-"Did you miss me? Did your little human heart ache every moment I was gone? Did you have bad thoughts about me in the small dark hours before the dawn?" Uh ok this is the first time I've been completely on board with eight as zagreus and holy shit its good

-"I am what the monsters have nightmares about"- immediately switches to desperate Eight. Love the implication here. Doctor's Self loathing is still going strong woo

-"But I love you" dundudndudnxjndus

-THIS IS DIRECTLY PARALLELING THE SCENE FROM NEVERLAND WHERE THE DOCTOR FAILED TO KILL CHARLEY AND NOW IT’S CHARLEY'S TURN AND SHE SAID "I'M BRAVER THEN THE DOCTOR, I'M THE BRAVEST PERSON HERE" AND DID WHAT HE FAILED TO DO

-ok im a little annoyed shes making it about herself when its clearly because the doctor is so much torment he doesn't want to live, i’m not even sure he's aware about any of that.

-though everything else?? The acting?? "I'm the bravest person here." The doctor's pained repetition of "kill me" while everything around him gets more intense? The sound of the blade going through his chest??? Charley straight up sobbing?? I’m going feral oh my god it's good

-this feels very meta

-the one "yEs" from rassilion pffffft

-ok eight is being a butt and charley is being melodramatic

-leela is wonderful and I want more of her.

-uhh be careful with what you wish for, Doctor

-at moments like these I remember that Charley is 18

-this feels like the doctor desperately trying to ground himself after everything, and Jesus if the tardis fading away in scherzo after Eight saying it'll be him and her through this universe doesn't make you sad :(

-Time to :) re-listen to :) Scherzo :) with full context :) I love pain :)

[sevsnapeoriginalfanfix]

Chapter 1: A Chemical Reaction

Tags: Severus x Hermione, Hermione as an adult/Professor, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Romance and Lemon

This was the fourth time that Hermione had raised her hand to knock on the office door of Severus Snape, but despite being a Gryffindor, she seemed to keep losing her nerve. What if he’s not even here? Does he even live here? Doesn’t he have a house somewhere? What if he’s not awake? What if he yells?

Stressful scenarios, each one more distressing than the next, swirled in her mind as she paced in front of the door. Hermione smiled to herself, remembering a time not that long ago when she had been nervous around Snape for an entirely different reason. It had been her sixth year at Hogwarts and Hermione developed a very silent crush on Professor Snape. She had lost faith in ever winning over “Won-Won” as he was so often called that year, and truth be told, she had lost all faith in any male her age. Though she would have never breathed a word to anyone- not even Harry or Ginny- Hermione had found herself in a frenzy of nerves and excitement every time she walked into his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She had been determined to impress him- efforts that of course went completely unnoticed. She had loved the curve of his lips in an effortless pout, the permanently raised right eyebrow, and his biting wit. Naturally, her illusions were shattered when Snape had killed Dumbledore, but now that the truth had come out....no. He was still a foul git and she knew it. She was here to begrudgingly ask for his help. If only she could get up the courage to--

“Professor Granger, do you intend to disturb the rest of my morning with this racket or do you intend to tell me exactly what it is you want?”

There he stood in the doorway, towering and intimidating as ever. Even at 7:30am, he wore the standard black uniform and an impenetrable gaze. His dark, greasy hair hung in his face like curtains and his long, slender fingers drummed impatiently on the door frame. 

“Oh...Severus. I’m sorry, I just...how did you know I was here?” He sneered and gestured to her brown Oxfords with a heel. 

“You’ve never exactly been subtle. I could hear your clickety-clacking all the way through my morning coffee. Now, out with it before it becomes cold.” 

Impatient bastard, she thought. “May I step in?” she inquired, knowing fully that this conversation was more than a quick “Hello, will you help me brew this incredible complex potion that I failed at 40 times?” 

His drumming fingers picked up speed as he replied, his voice laced with irritation, “We have a perfectly good hallway right here. What do you want?” 

Exasperated with his coldness, Hermione turned to walk back to her living quarters when the throbbing in her abdomen intensified. She leaned against the wall to keep her balance. Through gritted teeth, Hermione explained, “I need...a potion. I have tried to make it over and over again and I just can’t get it.”

She looked up to find the annoyed Severus replaced with a highly amused Severus with an undeniable smirk. “Ah, how the tables turn. Miss Hermione Granger- the brightest witch of her age- can't make a potion and needs my help? Oh, this is a change.” He brought his hands together, twiddling this thumbs, and continued. “But why should I help you? After all--”

“SEVERUS, now is not the time for haughty speeches. I get it. I was a nuisance. But I’m in severe pain, and I need your help.” This admittance only fueled his satisfaction. 

“And a simple pain potion, too!” He scoffed and clicked his tongue mockingly. “What kind of potion is it?” 

“As I said, it’s one for...” she paused as another twinge afflicted her, “pain.” Snape’s smug grin was accompanied by a grand eye roll. 

“Yes, I gathered that as you said you were in pain. But for what exactly?” “Cramps...” she admitted, feeling a deep blush starting from her chest and spreading rapidly to her pale face. 

Unaffected, he inquired nonchalantly, “This is going to be a lot easier if you get specific faster, there is a different potion for everything. Now are they charley horses? Foot cramps? Perhaps your arms cramp from the frequency you raised your hand in school?” At this he chuckled uncharacteristically to himself. 

“Menstrual. Cramps.” She clarified moodily, enunciating every syllable. Immediately embarrassed, she lowered her eyes. She needn’t have, as he was unable to look her in the eyes as well. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed of a perfectly natural concern, it was just that is was....Snape. 

“Oh, erm...” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I see, well uh...yes, come in I suppose.”

It was the first time in her life that she had ever seen Severus Snape flustered. 

Neither moved for a moment. Hermione’s face was flushed and Severus’s face seemed unable to concentrate on anything but the floor. Finally, Hermione squeezed past him in the narrow doorway, realizing until it was too late that brushing up against his body did nothing to diminish the awkward tension. Both seemed content to pretend that it didn’t happen and they silently moved toward a small table, decorated with nothing but a plate of half-eaten bacon and eggs and a black coffee cup.

Even his coffee up is plain black, Hermione noted as she took a seat. For a few tense moments, neither spoke. The tightness in his jaw revealed the immediate regret he now felt for inviting her in. Severus Snape did not have guests and they certainly weren’t females. And they most definitely weren’t complaining of female troubles- a subject he knew little of. It wasn’t as if he’d had a girlfriend. A few lovers in his early Death Eaters days, sure, but those were once and done. His parents had certainly never educated him on anything he needed to know. His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar, matter-of-fact voice he had heard many times from the classroom.

“Now, let’s get right to work. The potion was very complicated for me, it might be easy for you. But it does take several hours, so we might want to break it up into a couple of days. I’ve used up all of my personal supplies, but we---”

“Professor Granger,” he interrupted. “I understand why you came here, but I think Madame Pompfrey would be much more equipped to handle this type of thing, so perhaps you should seek her help. He stood up quickly to usher her to the door, pausing only when he realized she was not following him. Hermione sat firm at the table and this time it was she wearing an amused expression.

“Go to the hospital wing! For pain? Why...why didn’t I think of that? You’re brilliant, Severus, truly! I hope someday I’ll be as smart as you are.” Each word dripped with more and more sarcasm. “I do have brains, Severus. I have visited her multiple times, but it’s a Muggle condition and the hospital wing doesn’t have the proper medicine. No, Muggle medicine hasn’t worked either,” she quickly added as he opened his mouth to suggest that very thing. “Only the most powerful pain potions will do it, I’ve checked. This one specializes in the abdominal region,” she continued.

“Indeed, thank you Professor Granger for the lecture on my subject. I, the Potions Master, really needed that lesson from a History of Magic professor.”

Hermione chuckled. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Severus! It’s just that if you really knew, you would have never suggested I go see Madame Pompfrey in the first place. Truth be told, I just think you’re a coward.” For an instant, she wondered if she had gone too far. His eyes- dark as the midnight sky- seemed to illuminate with rage. He glowered at her with his best “professor” stare, but was only greeted with more laughter. “I am a professor, too, remember? That look doesn’t work on me anymore. If you’re not scared, come sit down.” His hands were tied. To sit down would be to obey her command and lose his dominance. To admit fear would be unthinkable. Begrudgingly, he made his way to the table and sat down. He took a sip of his coffee--which he unsurprisingly drank black--and grimaced when he found it to be lukewarm. Hermione opened up her Potions book as he performed a warming spell on the coffee. He found himself lost in his own thoughts. What was he supposed to do for a guest? Should he offer her coffee? Food? No, that was too much. Just coffee, perhaps. Very noncommittal. How had she gotten him to do exactly what he wanted? How was she unaffected by the glare that had terrified thousands? Had she always smelled this nice? Had she always bit her lip in such a causally seductive manner while reading?

It was then that Severus Snape knew he was in trouble.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Hello! Writing prompt for you! in your after studio au what about the point of view of the toons finally free inside an unknown world? Do this only if you want or if you haven't already done it. Thank you very much ^w^

Summary: After the studio, there's a lot of new development with the toons.

Another case of getting two birds with one stone. I had a request on AO3 for some Sammy X Norman goodness for Post-Studio AU and I also wanted to play around with the toons, so here you go!

[[MORE]]

One of the hardest challenges was without a doubt healing and rehabilitating the twisted and imperfect toons that had come out of Joey's revolting experimentation. Creatures that had once been broken, feral and horrifying to look upon if just from how wrong their forms had turned out. Pipers, Fishers and Strikers that hadn't been good enough to be Charleys, Barleys and Edgar's, among a few other creatures that had evaded Henry during his journey through the damned cartoon studio.

Toons that were slowly stabilizing and becoming less what he associated with danger and more similar to what they were truly meant to be, if not a little unique in their own way.

Well, not counting the ones that had been absorbed by those who had "donated" pieces into their creation that is… Some toons just weren't meant to be and others were just the missing piece that a Searcher needed to ascend into higher thought as a Lost One.

Still, even after a series of purges, there remained a few sets of Butcher Gang clones as well as one singular Chester creature.

There was also something else that had been a little alarming at first. What Henry could only describe as pulsating "embryos" (not really but he didn't know what else to equate them to) that had been formed from excess ink that had sloughed off from the more stable studio employees.

A process that didn't start immediately after leaving the studio, rather, a few months after everyone started to settle.

Henry still couldn't forget the vivid image of Sammy being sick for an entire week, spitting up ink every so often, and then throwing up a massive blob of congealed ink that had slowly shaped itself into a Bendy clone with the most unsettling pair of eyes he'd ever seen. He doubted Sammy himself could forget the disturbing experience, and was also pretty sure he was a little traumatized by it.

Even so he seemed to almost have taken to toon in as if he were his own child. Not as worrisome as veneering the little fella, but still quite hard to grasp considering his… unorthodox birth…

"Any more Searcher incidents since I've been gone to check on the girls?" Henry had asked as he was let inside by Allison, catching a whiff of breakfast being cooked. Pancakes and coffee from the smell of things. Like a quaint little cafe or the Stein household in his youth. Comforting.

"Not since two weeks ago. All Searchers have actually become Lost Ones since you've been gone." She'd responded as she led the old cartoonist into the spacious kitchen.

The table was quite long, and the seats provided were no longer mostly composed of pillows and stacks of books to boost certain inhabitants of the house. The Projectionist was still forced to kneel to eat thanks to the added weight of the machinery that was a part of his body, but he didn't complain from where he was leaning into Sammy and his height more than compensated for it anyway. Henry could just about see Susie carefully braiding the many tangled wires and thick cables connected to the Projectionist's head and back.

"Uh, really? How many toons left then?" Glancing around he noted that not everyone had come down to eat yet. Tom and Buddy likely both being in the bathroom washing up from running outdoors. A favourite activity of his.

"Three sets of Butcher Gang clones. Two are incomplete." Allison explained. "We think we know who was the originator of the complete set, but their Charley has stated that the trio is fairly happy to remain as they currently are. They are nearly perfect if you ignore the heavy scarring and prosthetics."

"I take it that's Mr. Allwine's set?" Henry guessed. Humming in understanding when she nodded rather than verbalizing her confirmation.

"I recall Mel now that things are coming back to me. He really enjoyed voicing those three, so I'm not surprised he'd rather remain as the Butcher Gang." Susie added as she finished the messy braid of wiring. "I'll miss his jokes though…"

"I certainly won't. He was a jackass at best…" Sammy huffed, eyeing the unblinking toon currently hiding under his chair. "Don't repeat that around the Edgars… Charley and the Barleys will wallop you into fine impish ink."

"M'not stupid." The little imp retorted in Sammy's own voice, although it sounded much younger. Less weighted down by a bitter and heavy conscience.

"I'm not implying that you are, just giving you a fair warning. Socialized or not, those crooks are always eager to pick a fight." Like a parent passing on sage advice, Sammy offered the little wandering menace a pat before pressing a kiss to the Projectionist's neck.

The larger ink man rumbled happily and seemed content between his two favourite people, and even passed a piece of toast to the little devil hidden under the chair. They made for an odd family unit, but Henry was very sure they were happier than they'd been for a long time.

"Sometimes I forget you had to raise a kid before all this…" Henry chuckled, amused by the domesticity of it all, before turning back to Allison. "The incomplete sets?"

"Not a clue. Well, there's one that's just an Edgar, but we know he was part of Grant… Although he reformed without needing to assimilate that piece." She shrugged "The little guy is more mature than the other two Edgars. I'd say he's more of a teenager even."

"And the remaining incomplete set?"

"An Edgar and a Barley. They lost their Charley a while back, but they haven't clung to any particular employee that we can tell… Grant's Edgar has been around them a lot though, so they seem content." Allison flipped the pancakes over as she spoke. "They also orbit around Mel's Butcher Gang. I think his Charley makes them feel safe."

"Good to always have an emotional safety net I suppose…" Henry was at least glad that they hadn't reverted into feral creatures. Socializing them had been pretty difficult considering how messed up they'd been from their failed creation process. Like teaching feral cats to trust. "Anything else?"

"Norman's been leaking a little." Sammy offered. "Not enough to be alarming, but just about enough that we're sure we're uh… Well. Expecting extra company."

As if to prove Sammy's point, the Projectionist let out a choked wet cough, the tube connected to his esophagus uncoiling and shuddering before a blob splattered onto Sammy's lap.

Henry winced at the mess, and gave the curly haired musician a sympathetic look as his face went completely blank. Likely registering what had just happened.

"Ewwww…" the not quite perfect Bendy clone inched away from the drippy mess, while Susie shook her head and got up.

"I'll get the napkins…"

In the Projectionist's defense, he looked quite sheepish for a creature that couldn't properly emote. Hunched shoulders and claws tapping together as he looked down at his knees in shame.

"Lovely…" Sammy pinched the bridge of his nose and just let the blob fall to the ground. It twitched slightly but remained as it was. "You'd think the miracle of childbirth would be nicer to bare witness to..."

"Even if it were the more conventional and biologically sound method, I can assure you it's not as beautiful as most would have you believe." Henry offered with a tight smile as he tried not to think about the tiny inky organism that was slowly reshaping itself into the vague figure of a comic strip character. "And I was there to see it happen twice."

"I take it there was a lot of screaming involved?" Sammy smiled at Susie as she returned with the napkins. He started patting the stains carefully, letting the ink soak into the napkin.

"On my part? Plenty." Henry winced "No one ever told me there's more after the baby comes out… And it didn't get easier the second time around. Linda nearly crushed my hands…"

It didn't take long for breakfast to be done and every single household member to rush down to eat once called upon.

Only now the Projectionist was holding a toon of his own, while he vacuumed up cut up pieces of pancake and orange juice.

All things considered, having a new playmate for the other toons wasn't a bad thing.

If only the little blighter wasn't a troublemaking super villain… His first action was to shoot the pancake pieces out of Tom's fork and the large toon wolf was none too pleased when the little jerk started giggling about it.

-

Binky was surprisingly the easiest of the toons to get along with, right after Buddy. Outside of the studio, the Ink Demon was no longer a sinister figure that haunted the imagination of those who'd suffered in Joey Drew's nightmare.

Instead he was something closer to the cartoon character he was meant to be. Except he was much less troublesome than the mischievous and often misguided devil darling himself. In fact, the lanky imp was rather shy.

Sure he still looked far too human in proportions, and he was still learning how to speak, but honestly nothing about him was as off-putting as Henry initially thought. He felt bad judging him on appearances alone. Just like Joey had…

And, knowing what he did now, Henry didn't blame Binky for any of what he did in the studio.

The tiresome plotline, the living Ink's conflicting will, and the isolation had been the source of the Ink Demon's violent actions.

A scared and confused toddler following the bad examples of others.

But not anymore.

Not for as long as Henry was here to protect these people and help them grow.

Binky's less rumbustious disposition also meant he had a tendency to opt for calmer and more relaxing things to do. Like sleep under the shade of a tree when the weather was nice, watching the fish swim by in the stream, or pick flowers of all shapes, sizes and colors. Often doing so while watching the other toons run around and frolik like wild children.

Most often the poor guy was the unsuspecting victim of the Wanderer's shenanigans (despite Sammy's constant reminders to play nice).

With the addition of Cameraman, things were more hectic.

Others had lost their own excess ink in the span of the few days of Henry's visit, so the roster of toons consistently grew the better some people recuperated.

Jack had actually come down to visit as well, looking positively happy to find so many were experiencing something similar to himself.

In the first week of living with his husband and roommates, he'd apparently shed some more of his own ink and later found a small cartoon sheep staring up at him from under his bathroom sink. That had been an interesting night for the Fains.

Said sheep was eager to meet two others who'd been formed off of two other members of the Music Department. Johnny Brokeheart, the organist that had once been imprisoned inside his beloved instrument, and Julian Whitaker, the cellist that had sometimes visited the Prophet's domain for protection as a Lost One with a prominent limp.

The Woolly Triplets were happy to be together for a few hours before Jack returned home with his third of the trio. The little guy was reluctant to leave Jack's side, and both he and Theo had grown attached to him anyway.

It'd feel strange to part ways so suddenly.

Henry had marveled at the interesting cast of characters that were still coming together.

There were now three wolves, three angel, a demoness, a living camera, two imps, a leprechaun, two pirates, a living pirate chess, and three spiders.

He could only imagine what else might pop up the next time he came around to check on everyone.

It was truly a full house.

One full of silly shenanigans and exasperated parents that didn't want to admit their kids were adorable but little hellions. Such an odd thought, being a parent to a cartoon character that had at one point been their means to earn money… Odder still how easily they connected with them.

Perhaps because they'd come from them? Like an actual offspring?

That seemed to be the case with Sammy at least. If anyone had reasons to resent a certain grinning devil, it had to be the false prophet who'd grown disillusioned.

He loved the little Wanderer though.

Unsettling eyes and grin be damned, he was a proud da and did what he could to raise him.

Same with Norman who actually had proper experience as a father, and then even Susie who'd been a little miffed that she didn't have a little Alice to tend to, but still took on the responsibility of teaching Miss Twisted to not be too much of a nuisance (she loved her really, like mother like daughter they ended up becoming in less than an hour).

Even those who Henry hadn't pegged as the sort to want to be parents were doing grand with their own toons.

Grant was an exemplary father despite his neurotic personality, and even Bertrum and Lacie seemed fond of acting as an uncle and aunt to the toons. Teaching them things and letting them get away with things their parents wouldn't.

It was… honestly very nice.

Nothing the toons didn't deserve after such a rough start.

[ariwilder]

Crazy, Stupid, Potions (4/?) Pairing: Penny Haywood x Jacob’s Sibling (MC)

1- 2- 3 -4-5

Summary: Penny is practicing for the upcoming Wizarding Schools Potions Championship and she needs test subjects. One would say, that’s what friends are for, right? Right?!

AN: A bit of fluff after all the stupidity that has been Sixth Year (which I will ignore). 

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The Quidditch Derby finishes without much ado. Your rivals never stood a chance against your truly motivated team. After resting for three days without interruption, your body had no qualms against your performance. You are dubbed Player of The Match, much to your surprise. This hadn't happened to you since right before The Beatrice Haywood's incidence ®, which sent your quidditch performance and your whole 5th year season down the drain.

To be honest, you are beyond ecstatic.

You see Jae hide a particularly heavy looking bag under his cloak right before he enchants you, feeling yourself levitate among the excited chants of,

“The Hero of Quidditch!” and the more creative,“The curse of Slytherin!”

You arrive into the Great Hall gliding over the shoulders of some of your housemates, and a particularly smug looking Jae.

Under normal circumstances this whole ordeal would have bothered you, you have never liked being called a cursed, after all, but seeing Merula hiss and growl under her breath after the match had been particularly entertaining. Although, not as entertaining as her storming out of the Quidditch pitch in a huff, mouthing curses under her breath.

You still have a couple of games left before going for the Quidditch Cup but today's efforts proved everyone that your house is more than ready for whoever stood in its way. For now, the Great Hall stands festive. Your win had knocked out the Slytherin Quidditch team out of the competition, and everyone is celebrating your victory as their own.

You glance around the Great Hall unconsciously. You feel the urge to be on the lookout for a certain person. You smile widely. By the end of the Hufflepuff table stood the one and only Penny Haywood. Your smile is so wide the side of your cheeks are starting to burn.

“ Finite Incantatem .”

You recite under your breath and land gracefully in front of her. You hear coos and oohs behind you but try not to pay attention.

“Penny.” You say breathlessly. You really can't help it, the day has been a wild-storm. If you knew any better, you could swear you are drunk on Felix Felicis.

Her face is beet red, perhaps an after effect of the sunburn of a Quidditch Match. You've always thought the Hogwarts Quidditch Stalls to be quite deficient against the sun.

“What are you doing?” She asks this under her breath. Only to bite unto her lower lip anxiously.

You don't really have an answer for that. You were simply so happy, you had wanted to greet her the moment you saw her. It takes you both by surprise when you evolp her into a tight hug.

“Thank you.” You sigh into her flowery smelling hair. You feel her put her arms around your neck, as you hear a combination of disappointed booing and cheering clogging your ears.

Your stomach does a particularly painful flip-flop before you sense her go limp in your arms.

“Penny?” You stir her body gently only to feel her hands fall to her sides. You stagger to adjust her weight on your arms and avoid her limp body to fall.

An unimpressed Ismelda sighs beside you. When did she get there?!

“You really must be cursed if your hug killed her,” she deadpans.

You feel every ounce of blood leave your body right there. Your logical side shouts at you that such a thing is highly unlikely, but your emotional side is racing.

“Sod off, Ismelda.” It is Rowan who shows up beside you before gaping at Penny's limp body. You sense a circle forming around you.

They sigh beside you, “Let's just take her to the infirmary.” Rowan goes ahead and opens one of her eye eyelids.

“She doesn’t look dead to me,” They shrug before enchanting Penny's still body to float. You frown at Rowan’s weird observation. Why would they know what a dead person looks like?

“Everyone heard Rowan, move out of the way already!” you hear Tonks shout behind you and the body of students that just a moment ago had been chanting your name dispersing.

You start to feel light headed yourself when you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“You look as if you have just seen a hungry looking Hungarian Horntail, mate. She'll be alright.”

You nod at Charley's encouragement while you see a worried looking Tonks follow Rowan out of the Great Hall.

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It takes you longer than necessary to get to the infirmary. A crowd had formed around you. Half of them were angry because they wholeheartedly believed you had indeed killed Penny, and the other half were trying to convince them otherwise. The confused mob would have triggered a couple of magical duels had it not been for McGonagall’s thunderous voice.

“Any student caught casting injury inflicting spells will be severely punished!”

You see everyone’s head shot up in fright before dispersing.

You take advantage of her diversion, to make a dive towards the infirmary, all the while, feeling McGonagall’s piercing stare on the back of your neck.

By the time you make it to the infirmary, a stern looking Madam Pomfrey is already chastising your friends.

“Why is it that whenever something happens, it’s always you lot? Hmm?”

She had her hands over her hips like your mother used to do whenever she reprimanded you, right before Jacob’s disappearance when she still acted like your mother.

“And you!” she points at your nearing figure, “Congratulations on winning the Derby, I never doubted you.”

You have the impression she had the intention to pat your head but thought better of it, “Miss Haywood wants to see you.” she pats your shoulder instead, “don’t make that face. Miss Haywood is fine, she just fainted, she is not the only one who could do with a couple days of sleep.”

“How come they aren’t getting an earful--oop!”

“Barnaby,” you hear Rowan shush him behind you.

“You didn’t win the derby, did you? That’s what I thought. Now, out!” is the last you hear before you close Penny’s privacy screens behind you.

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Before you lays Penny Haywood’s sleeping figure. Her hair looks in mild disarray as strands of blonde hair peeked from her usually well kept braid. Between her paleness and the dark circles under her eyes, it is no wonder some casual observers actually believed her to be dead.

Granted, some of them still probably believe you to be cursed.

You sit on the nearest chair to her right. You glance at her pale and delicate hand and feel a sudden urge to hold it, for some reason. You place your warm hand gingerly over hers when you feel her move under her covers. You freeze when you hear her voice.

“Hey, how’s the Hero of Hogwarts doing?” she opens her eyes blearily at you and your heart skips a beat. Only Penny could ask you how you were doing while being the one in the infirmary.

Your initial reaction is to retrieve your hand, but  she is cold and you're so hot you feel about to burst. It feels too much like a discourtesy.

“That’s something I should be asking you,” you answer her morosely. You had truly panicked. If anything happened to her, you do not know what you would do.

“I think, I was just too tired, and when you hugged me, I just …” she trails off as she avoids your eye. There’s an uncomfortable tug on the pit of your stomach, a part of you isn’t sure if you want her to finish her phrase.

“I’m sorry, did I scare you? Did you think I’d hurt you or something? I’m really sorry, Penny,” you feel embarrassed. You withdraw your hand from hers to cover your eyes.

You have not given your actions a single thought, it is not like you to display big shows of affection.  Maybe she thought you were being supplanted by an enemy or under the imperius curse.

“No!” she rises from her bed suddenly, “it’s not like that, I..I..”

“Yes?” she seems at a loss of words.

“If anyone should be feeling sorry, it’s me.”

The sudden change of topic confuses you, it seems to you like she didn’t get to finish her last statement. Why would she feel sorry about anything?

“Why?”

“About having you sleep for three days, I might’ve been partially responsible for that. I’m sorry.”

She isn’t looking at you, but all you can think about is wanting to wipe away all the sadness off her voice.

“It’s okay, Penny,” you try to peek close to her face, “it wasn’t your fault, Jae gave me some medicine or something, it’s not like you drugged me with the Draught of the Living Dead.”  You joke.

There’s an uncomfortable silence after you do not hear Penny laugh.

“Wait, did you?”

The sound of curtains being drawn interrupts you.

“That’s enough, you two. I’m sorry, but Miss Haywood really needs to rest some more. You can visit her tomorrow if you like.”

Madam Pomfrey barges into your camp of vision before purposefully rushing you out of the hospital wing. You feel so stunned you don’t even complain.

“We’ll take care of Miss Haywood for you, have a good night.”

“Goodnight.”

She probably doesn’t hear you before the loud noise of the closing doors.

You let a sigh you didn’t know you had been holding. Your friends are nowhere to be seen, but you feel grateful for it. You don’t feel like talking to them, all of a sudden. You don’t know what to feel.

Is this how Tonks felt when Penny got rid of her hair? You wonder. She had warned you, she would be drugging you without your knowledge, but it still made you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t even know she could brew such an advanced potion! And how did you even wake up?

You shake your head. Maybe a walk around the Black Lake could be of help.

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next chapter

I know I haven’t updated in a long time, but, quarantine and good mental health has helped. I just want to keep writing. I even have sort of an end to this one. Anyway, thanks for the support.

you can find it here: Ao3 

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 1: The Fall

A convoy of technical vehicles sped through the desert towards a recently sighted pillar of fire. Octavia looked out the vehicle’s backseat window as they raced toward a rising plume of smoke in the distance. The sun hovered just above the horizon. Orange light cast long shadows that stretched over the dust dunes. Pandora was beautiful when everything on it wasn’t trying to kill you.

It had only been four days since the Calypso Twins had stolen the powers of the legendary Firehawk. Four days! And the Crimson Raiders were responding to distress calls nonstop. Octavia had barely kicked her feet up after returning from the last one before she received the message to rejoin the convoy. Reports poured in from all across the planet. With their limited manpower, it was a struggle to keep up. 

So much had changed recently between the warring factions. Octavia recapped the events in her head to keep things straight. 

The Calypso Twins were self-proclaimed gods leading a cult called the Children of the Vault. Tryeen Calypso- one of six powerfully magical beings called sirens- could leech the life force from any living thing, draining them until nothing remained but a hollow husk. She managed to absorb the powers belonging to the commander of the Crimson Raiders, another siren named Lilith, famously known as the Firehawk. 

Tyreen was having fun with her newly acquired powers by teleporting her brainwashed cultists around everywhere in a telltale pillar of fire, spreading their influence by broadcasting videos of their raids on the Echo net. 

Troy Calypso was the propaganda mastermind who operated mostly behind the scenes, editing videos of murderous raids and turning them into slapstick jokes, air horns and all. His weapon of choice was an enormous sword wielded in a cybernetic arm. Although he spent most of his time out of the spotlight, Troy proved to be equally as brutal as his sister.

In short, the Calypsos were powerful monsters with hordes of mindless followers at their disposal, hell-bent on becoming the brightest stars in the sky while watching the universe burn at their feet.

The Crimson Raiders were doing everything they could to keep that from happening. That included Octavia. She fidgeted with the long sleeves of her shirt. Her anxiety sat heavy in her stomach like a chunk of eridium. She held up her arm to check the device attached to her wrist for what must have been the twelfth time. Straps secure, poison darts loaded, compression mechanism functional, safety off. Oops. She flicked the safety switch on and pulled her sleeve back over it. The last thing she needed was to accidentally shoot a poison dart at anyone.

She always hated being asked to come along on these calls. She wasn’t much of a fighter. Ah, who was she kidding? She was damn near useless. Octavia set her medical bag onto her lap to remind herself why they needed her there. The Crimson Raiders fought the bad guys, and Octavia patched up the good guys. She didn’t claim to be a doctor, nor was she legally allowed to. She was an herbalist. Ever since Dr. Zed went missing, Octavia stepped in as the primary medic. What she wouldn’t give to be back in her greenhouse right now.

Lilith looked back from the driver’s seat. “I know that look. Are you psyching yourself out?”

“As always. Is it that obvious?” Octavia thought she was holding herself together better than last time. Of course, Lilith always picked up on little things like that. Not much gets past the commander of the Crimson Raiders. Maybe intuition comes with the job. 

Lilith smiled. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. We’ll clean up this mess and be back up in Sanctuary in no time.” Her golden eyes glinted as she drove, fiery red hair slightly muted with dust that settled everywhere on this planet. It was still strange to see uniformly fair skin on her arm which was once wrapped in blue glowing siren marks. No one called Lilith the Firehawk anymore, avoiding what that implied. Even though she was no longer a siren, she continued to live up to her legendary status.

The technical’s radio crackled. “We’re almost there,” said a female voice. “Let’s stop here outside the entrance.”

There already? Octavia looked out the window at the camp before them. Its high scrap metal fence made it impossible to see inside. The Children of the Vault were probably tearing the place apart shouting the Twin Gods’ praises. 

Lilith picked up the radio’s microphone and responded, “Copy that, Maya.” The technical came to a stop. Lilith grabbed an SMG from the passenger’s seat. Turning once again to Octavia, she asked, “You ready?”

Octavia squeaked, “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She gulped in an attempt to force her heart down from her throat and opened the door.

Before them stood a rundown camp that looked abandoned. Smoke billowed from inside. It was relatively quiet. No bandits screaming, no gun fire, no explosions; just a distant metallic screech. Crimson Raider soldiers filed out of the technicals parked beside them. 

Lieutenant Cramer stood at the ready. He was an older man that exuded pure military discipline. If you got out of line, he was the one to whip you back into shape. And he enjoyed doing it. 

Maya’s electric blue hair and siren marks made her stand out like an orchid the desert. A hood was pulled over her head, coat flowing behind her in the breeze as she walked swiftly over to Lilith.

“Strange, it’s never this calm,” said Maya.

“Stay on your toes. By now, we should know better than to underestimate them,” Lilith warned. 

Once the whole group gathered around, Lilith gave everyone their instructions. “Maya, you and I will stay outside with teams Beta and Charley. Octavia, wait in the technical, and be on standby. Lieutenant Cramer, take team Alpha through the front gate. Stay alert and keep an eye out for survivors. I wanna see everyone back in Sanctuary at the end of the day. Let’s do this.” The soldiers spread out. Lilith gave a nod to Lieutenant Cramer. The battle scarred veteran nodded in acknowledgement. He began giving orders to his team and used hand gestures that Octavia wasn’t familiar with. 

Octavia climbed into the front seat of the technical as instructed. She took a deep breath steadying her nerves. She was definitely going to her greenhouse for some kragweed after this. The view from the windshield gave a better vantage point of the area. She gripped her dart gun concealed on her wrist, praying she wouldn’t have to use it. 

Team Alpha was about to make their move when Cramer held up his fist signaling to halt. The screeching sound had grown so loud it made Octavia want to grind her teeth together. Maya held her hand in front of her, fingertips sparking and siren marks flaring to life. All eyes and guns were on the entrance prepared to meet what was about to emerge. Showtime. The gates swung open.

The hunched figure of a man limped out dragging a heap of machinery behind him. Wires sparked from the twisted metal as it scraped along the ground. Upon first glance, it was easy to miss that the machinery was actually attached to the man; a cybernetic arm that threatened to tear itself from the shoulder. Blood stained the dirt behind him in a dotted trail as he hobbled forward. The screeching stopped when the figure paused and looked up. Oh, shit.

Lilith’s eyes widened in horror. “What the hell,” she whispered under her breath.

Troy Calypso.

The once mighty God King himself stood before them in a mangled mess. He’d been stripped of his ornate coat and oversized sword. His ribs slid feebly beneath tanned skin as his breath rattled inside his bare chest. The iconic side-swooped hairstyle had fallen; his black hair soaked in blood and stuck to the side of his face. One side of his modified jaw slacked as if hanging from a broken hinge.

Octavia had briefly seen Troy in the cult’s live streams. Countless people died at this man’s hands as he laughed and broadcast their deaths. That same man now stood in front of them broken and bleeding, and Octavia was paralyzed with shock.

She jumped as Lilith broke the silence. Lilith called out to him, “What happened?”

Troy lifted his gaze. His icy blue eyes scanned across the teams of Raiders, passing over Octavia making her blood run cold. After focusing on Lilith, he cocked his head to the side and started to laugh which quickly turned into a wet cough. He gasped for air, then spat onto the ground. Gold capped canines glinted through a bloody smirk. “What, this?” He glanced down to his mechanical arm as it popped sending a shower of sparks bursting from it. “Ah, y’know. Got denounced, excommunicated, and left for dead in the middle of nowhere. How was your day?”

Lilith was stunned. She seemed to be at a loss for words at his flippant response. The expression on her face was more confusion than fear. Octavia wished she could say to same for herself. 

Maya pressed further, “Excommunicated? Are you saying you got thrown out of the Children of the Vault?”

“Yeah, well. Guess I overstepped my boundaries with the God Queen. She labeled me a heretic, and our followers turned on me. Not really much I could do to fight back. Must be nice,” Troy pointed to Maya with his remaining human arm covered in unmistakable red glowing marks, “to be a functional siren.”

No, it couldn’t be. Troy Calypso was a siren? Octavia was far from being an expert, but it was common knowledge that sirens were always female. This would make the first male siren known in history. Male sirens were unheard of, thought to be impossible. 

Maya lowered her voice to Lilith, speaking just loud enough for Octavia to overhear. “This doesn’t feel right. It could be a trap. What do we do?” They didn’t seem to be surprised at this revelation. Did they already know?

“I’m not sure. He’s in pretty bad shape. Do you think Tyreen would do this to her own brother to pull one over on us?” Lilith concluded. 

‘Pretty bad shape’ was a drastic understatement. No one would willingly do this to themselves, especially someone as egocentric as Troy. Something was definitely off here. He must have done something pretty bad to get disowned and banished by his twin sister. Octavia shuddered at the thought.

Octavia jumped from the vehicle. Lilith and Maya turned to her after hearing her feet hit the dirt. “If he doesn’t get medical attention soon, he’s going to die,” Octavia interjected. “The COV is unpredictable, but I don’t think they’d go so far as to beat one of their Gods within an inch of his life just to trick us.” After receiving questioning looks, she added, “Th-that’s just my opinion.” 

Lilith was quiet for a moment, deep in thought before reaching a decision. “Bring him in for questioning.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Maya’s voice echoed. After being shushed by Lilith, she continued in a strained whisper, “This guy is dangerous. There’s no way we can take him to Sanctuary. He could be lying.”

“Then we keep a close eye on him.” Lilith returned her attention to Troy. He hadn’t moved, standing in a growing pool of blood and oil. He simply waited for the Crimson Raiders to decide his fate as if he lacked the strength to do anything else. “Octavia, can you keep him from bleeding out?”

“Of course,” she responded. That was her job, and she was damn good at it. Although- “I don’t know much about cybernetics.”

“We should talk to Ellie. Luckily, she’s stationed at an outpost nearby. We’ll take Troy there until we can decide how to move forward,” said Lilith. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. We’ll figure it out.” 

Maya stopped glaring as if she didn’t realize she was doing it. “Sorry,” she said and directed the glare at Troy instead.

What the hell were they getting into?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello, Tumblr! I hope you enjoyed part 1 of my new ‘In The Shadow Of Starlight’ series. Shout out to @border-spam for the Calypso Twins Prompts. ‘Heretic’ was such a huge inspiration that it influenced me to create an entire story of my own. (All the shorts can also be found on their AO3.) I will post a few more chapters regardless, but if enough of you like the series, I’ll keep it going.

Thanks for reading my garbage!  

[omsrandom]

Love is a GLITCH

A very happy birthday to @insanely-creative-things! Here’s a chapter from a story I’m writing for them!

Ashi looked at the broken down studio in slight disgust, the old man’s instructions still running around her head as she opened the first door and shut it as soon as she was in. Waiting a second, she opened the other door, grimacing at the black, sludge piles of ink on the walls and floors. “Hello?” She called, walking down the hall. “Henry, are you there?”

When no one replied, she shrugged and went through some of the rooms before screaming for a second. She stopped herself a moment later later she couldn’t tear her eyes off of that… that thing!

She felt someone wrapping their arm around her waist, second hand over her mouth as she let out a second scream while being dragged back around the corner. The person let go of her, causing her to turn her around and move to pull out her sabre before the realization clicked. “Jack?! She said, eyes widening. “I thought you were going to wait outside!”

“Ashi, that was three hours ago! What were you doing? Were you just staring at-at that all this time?” the other teenager asked.

“T-three hours? But I’ve only been in here for three minutes,” the two shared a look before bolting towards the door, the boy wincing as he hit the hard wood while Ashi managed to skid to a stop. “Shit! Drew must’ve done something to stop people from getting out!”

“Ashi, if a minute in here is an hour out there…” Jack trailed off, and suddenly, her mouth clacked shut.

“My father might be in here,” she breathed. “Jack, my father, he-he could…”

Glancing up, she saw his face set in grim determination. “We better start looking then.” Slipping their hands together, she tugged him into the room where the… life sized and very dead Boris was. “What is that?”

“Boris the Wolf. He was from the cartoon Drew Studio made, Bendy the Dancing Demon. There were seven recurrent characters; Bendy, Alice, Boris, and The Butcher Gang, who’re Charley, Barley, and Edgar. Mr. Drew makes enough appearances to be the seventh.” she rattled off.

“How do you know so much? This studio looks like it’s been shut down for years.” Jack noted as she looked around the body a bit more.

“My human father, Sammy Laurance, was the music director here. When momma had to work, he’d take me with him into the studio and let me watch him and the band work.” There was a book right next to the body! Reaching over, she barely spared a glance at the title before turning to Jack. “Mr. Drew had everyone put mementos on pedestals in the Machine Room. He wrote this, so I’m guessing it’s his.”

“What? Why in the Machine Room? What even is it?”

“You’re starting to sound like Miko, Jack,” she joked. “The Machine Room is where Mr. Drew put the Ink Machine. Drew Studio had some sort of special ink that made printing and drawing a lot easier, and it always made the cartoons feel alive. I think he said the mementos were to appease it, but I don’t exactly get how.”

——————————————————————————————————–

“Daddy, Daddy!”

Running down the hall at top speed, the three-year-old was quickly caught by her father, who laughed and hugged her tight. “My Melody, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Mama went to work, so now I getta watch you work!” she squealed, making him grimace before smiling, the redhead missing his expression.

“Of course sweetheart. Let’s go to my office,” walking towards the elevator, Ashi could see Mr. Drew watching them from his office, brows furrowing when he slammed the door.

She waited until they were off the elevator and on the music level before asking about it. “Daddy?” at her father’s hum, she continued speaking. “Why doesn’t Mr. Drew like me?” He stopped, a strange look on his face as he knelt down in front of her.

“Sometimes,” he began softly. “Sometimes people just don’t like other people for very little reason.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Waking up with a jolt, she glanced around the room, noting how the ink hadn’t somehow drained into it and that the elevators were blocked with pallets of… soup? Shaking her head, she moved to stand up, but let out a choked gasp as she saw what was on the floor. Moving a little to the left, she frantically shook Jack awake, pointing at the ritual, his eyes bugging out as soon as he made the connection.

Magic was something that everyone in the world knew existed; it’s how the Soulmate bonds were formed after all, but Black Magic…

Suddenly, the birch wood walls seemed constricting, and the shadows seem to grow darker and bigger with each passing second. “We need to get out of here,” Jack said, and she agreed.

She agreed, for Black Magic was the only thing to break a bond.

——————————————————————————————————–

She paused in the music booth, remembering how she’d sit up there with Norman and how her father and the instrument players would smile and wave at her before starting, and how the elderly man would comment that everyone in the studio except for Mr. Drew were so much happier when she came in.

“Hey Ashi, I found the keys!” Jack called from outside of the recording area, making her sigh as she walked away from the room. She came to a halt outside of her father’s office, watching as the teen unlocked the door. As it swung open, her breath caught at the ink stained purple bunny that was missing it’s right ear. Before she knew it, she was picking it off of the floor and holding it gingerly. “Is that-”

“I gave it to my father before he left work. I was sick, and it was Henry’s day off, so he offered to watch me.” Her eyes started to burn as she continued on. “A couple hours later, the world was told that Drew Studio exploded due to a gas leak and that there was only one survivor: Mr. Drew.”

“But that obviously didn’t happen,” Jack murmured. “So what was he hiding?”

“Well, giant wolf corpse, an ink machine with a serious leak, oh, and not to mention the seven foot tall, murderous demon that caused the floor to fall out from under us,” she listed off, contempt growing more and more in her voice. “I’d say a lot, and that’s not even mentioning the obvious Black Magic he was doing.”

“Or the coffins.” She stilled at the reminder, squeezing the bunny a little. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

After a few moments of silence, she slowly shook her head. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “I knew those people. This… this isn’t a studio anymore. It’s a mass grave.”

——————————————————————————————————–

She took the cassette tapes with her.

She probably shouldn’t’ve, but they had her father’s voice; a voice she had been so sure she would never hear again. Jack hadn’t said anything against it, instead offering for her to put them in his back, which had somehow managed to escape being soaked in ink so far.

She wanted to break down and cry at the searchers, knowing full well what they had been, but instead stayed strong. I am a Decepticon, I do not fear death, she chanted in her head, blasting the ink creatures with her gun. Jack had found a staircase and was walking up, trying to see if any of the doors were unlocked.

Then, she heard something, footsteps, but not those of ink-soaked sneakers. Turning around, she caught a glimpse of a Bendy cutout before a shovel was brought down upon her head.

“Rest your head… it’s time for bed…”

——————————————————————————————————–

“There we go now, nice and tight. We wouldn’t want our sheep roaming away now, would we?”

Her breath hitched as she slowly came to, tied to a chair as the ink man from before stood in front of her, an axe in hand as the two stared off before he looked away, shaking his head. Those words he spoke, they…

“No, we wouldn’t.” He stepped back and extended his arms a little. “I must admit, I am honored you came all the way down here to visit me. It almost makes what I’m about to do seem…. Cruel.” She tensed, doing her best to look around. She needed confirmation, she needed-

“Daddy?”

The word tore through her throat before she could stop it, and the ink encased man froze from where he was holding up the axe, the cut out mask unmoving as his glowing eyes shifted to study her face, the axe dropping a second later.

“Ashi,” he breathed, and she could feel something swelling up in her chest. “Oh, my little melody. You’re alive? Drew didn’t kill you?”

Slowly, she shook her head, desperately trying to make out her father’s face from the black goo. “No,” she answered. “I got away before he could. Someone took me in, once Momma died. He doesn’t know I’m here. I… how are you… The explosion-”

Something on his mushy face changed and he stepped back. “Drew had already transformed everyone by then. The explosion was just to cover up his tracks.” There was a pounding on the door in front of her, breaking the moment as she stared ahead, eyes wide. The ink-man swung his axe and broke the ropes, grasping her shoulders. “You must run! I will find you, but you have to get away! He won’t be willing to spare you.” He rushed into a side room, leaving her little time to steady her spinning head and halt her pounding heart before she was forced to rush into the now clear door, unable to keep herself from glancing back.

[fukushima-kamikrazee-war-boy]

Let’s see them all, toasty 💖 1-60 Ilyyyyyy😘

Oh lord what have I done

1. selfie

2. what would you name your future kids? Alfred and Ophelia have grown on me over the last few years. Doubt I'll actually do it though.

3. do you miss anyone? Sure do, it's hard not to these days

4. what are you looking forward to? Being in a better place!

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile? There is!

6. is it hard for you to get over someone? It definitely is

7. what was your life like last year? Pretty good honesty. Had more ups than downs fortunately.

8. have you ever cried because you were so annoyed? Annoyed? No. Frustrated, yes.

9. who did you last see in person? My dad technically.

10. are you good at hiding your feelings? I don't verbalize them a lot but my heart is firmly attached to my sleeve so they're usually at least a little bit visible

11. are you listening to music right now? Not currently unfortunately

12. what is something you want right now? Plenty of things. I wouldn't mind a new workshop or this one cool shirt I saw on redbubble.

13. how do you feel right now? Pretty decent honestly

14. when was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you? Over the weekend maybe

15. personality description: silly goose

16. have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t? Every day of my life

17. opinion on insecurities. Everyone has them, just don't make yours into a problem for everyone.

18. do you miss how thing were a year ago? I do. Wasn't perfect but it was nice. Nostalgia is nice but it's important to move forward

19. have you ever been to New York? ...no

20. what is your favourite song at the moment? Right now? Probably Charley Crockett's cover of Night Train to Memphis

21. age and birthday? 24, June 7

22. description of crush. Sharp as a tack, cute as a button. Extremely witty with a great singing voice.

23. fear(s) failure, physical pain, embarrassment

24. height somewhere between 5'10 and 5'11

25. role model my Grandpa

26. idol(s) I don't think I really idolize anyone

27. things i hate: slow traffic, communism, bullies.

28. i’ll love you if… you show me the barest amount of interest

29. favourite film(s) Master and Commander, Mad Max Fury Road, End of Watch, The Way Way Back, Treasure Planet

30. favourite tv show(s) Scrubs, Letterkenny, The Last Kingdom, Narcos,

31. 3 random facts: about me? I can't snap my fingers on my right hand, I've fallen asleep inside a moving helicopter, I own a collection of funny hats

32. are your friends mainly girls or guys? Even split i think

33. something you want to learn i really want to get my pilot's license

34. most embarrassing moment The time I threw up on a subway platform after a party. I think i accidentally sunflowered a stranger. That was a bad time

35. favourite subject History

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill? Go to sea, see the Northern Lights, drive cross country

37. favourite actor/actress Ryan Reynolds and Anna Kendrick i guess

38. favourite comedian(s) John Mulaney, Tom Segura

39. favourite sport(s) Baseball

40. favourite memory oh man too many to list. All of them involve travel. My friend's house upstate, Maine with some pals last year or my first time in Missouri

41. relationship status rhymes with pringle

42. favourite book(s) the entire Aubreyad

43. favourite song ever Oceans by the Format

44. age you get mistaken for i look my age so folks usually get it right

45. how you found out about your idol n/a

46. what my last text message says "Unless you specifically tell me to fuck off I'm not easy to repel"

47. turn ons short hair, sharp mind, being able to kill me

48. turn offs: drug use, non-monogamy

49. where i want to be right now I'll never turn down a boat ride

50. favourite picture of your idol n/a

51. starsign gemini

52. something i’m talented at knifemaking i guess

53. 5 things that make me happy Bodies of water, traveling, good company, Irish music, weapons

54. something thats worrying me at the moment starting my career

55. tumblr friends @lieutenant-dan-ice-cream @spaced-n-confused @safety-is-paramount @black-cap plus several others I couldn't think of off the top of my head

56. favourite food(s) potatoes, pasta, cheese, steak

57. favourite animal(s) Koala, sperm whale, literally any dog

58. description of my best friend Crazy but loyal

59 why i joined tumblr a gal I liked in high school was on here

60. ask me anything you want. Ask me something, Juice

[lilslotsofchat]

LIE

this is my first post, i did delete and repost because i figured out how to get this all into one post if you have any other ideas for this account let me know.

this is based off the song lie by nf 

the restaurant was a place the group of girls had gone to ever since they moved from their hometowns to Cali. Charley was from London and had been going back and forth from the UK to the US for twenty years. Laura was Charley's supposed best friend but after meeting Colson and finding out laura and him had a thing, an almost two-year relationship that Charley and Colson had been friends since they were both fifteen and that just happened out of nowhere. the two other friends just tagged along for the fame that laura and Charley had. she sat opposite her best friend watching her order her next drink. “can I have a sex on the beach” she said turning her chest towards the waiter. who became awkward and looked down at his writing pad.  Charley put her head on her hand and rolled her eyes “Charley what are you having” she asked. “I’m going home after this Laura” Charley said pushing her hair behind her shoulder and leaning back into her chair. she watched as Laura was flirting with the waiter and how she had a boyfriend back at home waiting for her. Laura nodded and continued to order. “he was so good looking” Laura exclaimed as he left their table. “what about Colson” Charley spoke up. “about that” Laura said looking at Charley and their two other friends. the two other friends looked away from the situation and turned to look at their phones. Charley looked around the room looking for the escape. “what do you mean about that” Charley said looking at her two friends trying to get them to talk. Laura looked around the room. Charley raised her eyebrows at the girl “he’s not really my type” Laura answered. Charley's eyes closed with confusion. “but you’ve been going out with him for almost a year and a half.” Charley snapped back at Laura. Laura shrugged her shoulders she looked down at the drink which was placed on her table. “Colsons being too depressed lately he’s not talking to me.” Laura said. “you’re fucking kidding me. I’m going home. I’ve told you to fucking tell him, Laura. please just tell him. take 20 dollars I’ll see you at colsons on Monday yeah” Charley said before getting up throwing a twenty bill on the table. she walked over to the waiter and told him to get someone else to serve the table she was just at. Charley walked outside the restaurant she looked back through the window to see Laura with a sour look on her face and the other two friends talking to each other. Charley began digging in her bag to find her phone to call Colson. “are you home tonight.” Charley didn’t even say hello to him he knew it was odd from her she always said hello . “yes I’m in why I’m with Casie right now.” Colson answered his voice sounding weary like something bad was going to happen. Charley could hear Colson moving about. “I need to talk to you urgently about Laura.” Charley ended up at her car and waited to get in. Colson choked on his next words. he didn’t expect Charley to call him about Laura he expected her to call him to pick her up as she was stranded but it was only ten pm so it wouldn’t be that late into the girls night out. “come over now I’ll put Casie to bed and I’ll be in my room when you get here.” Colson said immediately he was putting casie to bed as quickly as he could. the line went dead. Charley knew this was it. this was the night she was going to tell Colson everything she wanted to for months. Charley found out something that would break Colson only just that evening and Charley was sour with Laura ever since. she climbed out of her car as fast as she could. she ran up the driveway and into the house. “Baze wheres Cols” she asked as she closed the door. baze laughed at the girl who was dressed up but looked destroyed from her car ride over to the house. “as he said charl in his room. he’s worried. please get him out of his head like you usually do” Baze said to the woman. she nodded and walked up the stairs to his bedroom. she saw Casie's door closed. she peaked her head in to see the young girl laying in her bed with one of her dad's hoodies over her like a blanket. Charley tiptoed in and sorted out the quilt that had come off the girl. she pressed a light kiss to her forehead and turned off the light Casie used for reading. she put the book that Casie had on the floor and lightly walked out of the room. Charley closed the door to her best friends child’s bedroom she saw Rook leaving his room and he waved her over before she entered Colsons room. “he’s really down. like he used to be. when he used to go missing for hours with no reply. he’s in that state right now. I know what’s going to happen Baze warned me.  I wanted to tell him what I knew. but I know you know her better than all of us and you know every detail and you want to tell him yourself. please do it in a harsh way to put him in line. I know you're going to be there to hold him after but whilst you're saying it all tell him it’s because you love him.” rook said putting his hand on her exposed shoulder. Charley looked at rook. “she has been cheating on him for like nine months Rook” Charley said quietly to the drummer. his face dropped. he looked at her like the world had broken in front of him. “please tell me that’s a joke” Rook said sternly. Charley swallowed the salvia that had gathered in her throat. “no I found out about an hour ago. one of the other two spilt it by accident. laura then told me she’s cheated with about ten other lads.” Charley said looking at her best friend dead in the eye. rook let out a large puff of air. he just hugged Charley he knew exactly was coming next for Charley and it was going to be hard for her. “I love you.” he whispered into her neck. “I love you to Rook. if you hear things being broken it’s fine. okay don’t come rushing up I can handle it” she said. Charleywalked to colsons room and opened his door. he was lying face up in his bed looking at the ceiling a record playing the Beatles quietly. he didn’t look over at her. he let out a puff of smoke and then turned to her as she closed the door. “hey” she whispered to him. he smiled at her then let her go get dressed into something comfortable like she always did when she entered his room at night. “is Casie asleep?” he asked her he sounded monotone and his voice didn’t change in any inflexion. Charley hummed a year to the blonde in the bedroom. Colson sat up in his bed when Charley came out with his joggers on and one of his extra-large hotel diablo shirts. she rolled up the jogger's waistband and then sat on the end of his bed looking at him. he looked down like he would break at any moment. Charley let the song finish before letting out a sigh. Colson passed her the blunt he had in his hand. she took a few drags before blowing out the smoke. a cough followed. the room was only lit by the bathroom light that was behind Charley so Colson saw an outline of her. he had his incense burning on his record player table. his shirt was on the floor and he was laying in his trousers from the day. “want to change into some joggers we might be here all day cols” Charley said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. he nodded and got up slowly. Charley grabbed her phone from the rug she dropped on the floor when she walked in. she opened up her notes and read over all the bullet points she had written down over the past few months. Colson came out from the wardrobe he wanted a hug from her. he motioned for her to stand on the bed so she would be taller than him and he put his arms around her waist and she wrapped his arms around his neck and let his head rest on her chest. he was broken and what Charley was about to tell him was going to break him even more. “look Cols whatever I say right now and the way I say it. I don’t want to hurt you but this will hurt you. badly. it’s hurt me. you need to understand I'm doing this for you. I don’t care about laura anymore. this is for you. I want this to be for you. and all I want is love and happiness for you. laura isn’t giving you this. I’ve written down bullet points on my phone just so I get everything because there’s a lot. and I know I know it’s sad and pathetic but this is for you cols. okay” she said to him looking him in the eye as she sat opposite him in between his legs. he nodded and got ready for what he was going to be told. “Laura has been saying to me and the girls that you are not treating her like a boyfriend should. that you are too depressed and not doing anything with her. you're spending too much time with casie and not allowing girlfriend and boyfriend time. which I've argued with her that it’s not that casie is your whole world and you don’t see her if you go on tour. she then said that you’ve also been controlling and not telling her to do things with her guy friends as it were. she saying that you are saying. she can’t have guy friends and that you won’t let her out of the house when you’re together and your too clingy and won’t let the fuck off her.” Charley knew this was just context for what she was going to tell him at the end. she didn’t want to tell him and for him to switch off. Colson was paying clear attention to her and making sure he heard every word. “she says every time we’re out as a big group of girls when you let her out of the house that you aren’t talking but then on the way home with her she goes to call you and acts like none of it ever happened that she lied about it. she said to me tonight and a few times before that you just aren’t her type and that you really don’t suit her looks and you're still too depressed after it all. and the way she acted at the start of the year when you did what you did she tried to bring it onto her trying to play the victim. I wanted to tell you about the tweets and shit she posted but rook told me off for even trying.” Charley said. Colson hadn’t moved from his position he was intently listening to her. Charley sighed what she was about to say next was going to break the man in front of her. she shuffled forward and took hold of his hands. “what I'm about to say right now. I have only known for about an hour and I'm disgusted by and I wanted her to tell you but I know her pussy ass wouldn’t even fucking dare to say this to you.” Charley said to him holding his hands as he held back onto them pulling himself up. he put his legs to the floor from around Charley. he just looked at her as a puppy and she felt as though she was about to kick this puppy. “Colson she’s been cheating on you for nine months” she said to him as quietly as she could. her eye contact broke from his when he closed his eyes. he didn’t open them and when he did a tear fell from his eye. “she did what” he asked his anger was clear in his voice. “she cheated on you with ten guys over nine months.” Charley repeated. Colson pulled his hands from Charley's grip. he got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. Charley just sat looking at the wall till she heard him gagging and then sick falling into the toilet was next. her expression changed and she got up from the bed and ran to the bathroom. she began rubbing his back. “I'm so sorry Colson” she said to him. he wiped his mouth with toilet roll and then flushed the toilet. he moved Charley out of the way so he could get to the sink to clean his mouth out and wash his face with cool water. “I'm so sorry Cols” she said again putting her hand on his back. he closed his eyes. Charley our her hand on his back. he stood up straight and made eye contact in the mirror. he was crying. he was broken. his life had just been ripped in two. he knew it wasn’t Charley's fault. “get out” he snapped at her. Charley just stayed still. “no Colson I'm not going anywhere”  Charley said sternly to the tall man who was crying in the mirror. “please Charley” he said his voice breaking. she shook her head. he watched her in the mirror as she turned on the shower, she made sure it was the right temperature and then left the room to get him a towel. he just looked at himself in the mirror thinking he wasn’t enough. he was so in his mind he didn’t notice Charley walking back into the bathroom with a towel. “get in cols” she said lightly to him. her hand ran up and down his back. her eyes met his and he turned around to face the shower. he was numb. Colson dropped his joggers and his pants to the floor and Charley watched him walk into the shower. “lights on or off cols” she asked him as she picked up his clothes that had crumpled on the floor. “off” he replied quietly. Charley knew when Colson was upset he liked to shower in the dark. it was some form of coping mechanism he had. Charley began to tidy his room whilst putting a new record on the table she grabbed him some nightwear and put it on his freshly made bed. she then left the room checked on casie to see her still fast asleep. then continued to the living room where the group was. “I told him Rook” Charley said as he walked into the kitchen and pulled her to the side. Rook opened his eyes. “that took like an hour what happened.” he asked grabbing a beer from the fridge. Charley watched him open it and sat up on the side to speak to him. “I told him he wanted me to leave so I stuck him in the shower. he’s crying. like when he was in the shower he was sobbing.” Charley answered rooks question. he nodded. “is he still in there” he asked her holding the beer out to her. she took a swig and then handed it back. “I left him in the shower I'm gonna go up after I grab a bit of food for him. has he eaten today.” she asked rook. he helped her off the side onto the floor. she walked over to the fridge and opened it to find food. “he ate with Casie at lunch.” room answered her. she nodded. “did she have dinner” Charley asked caring about casie as if she were her own. Rook nodded. “yes I cooked her chicken and fries.” he said to her pointing to the boxes on the side. “okay I'm gonna take him some food up if he needs. I’ll see you in the morning” she said to him. he nodded. he hugged her. “I love you” he said to her. she smiled and hugged him tightly. she padded upstairs to hear Colson still crying. “Cols come on” she said pulling back the shower curtain a little bit to look at him. Charley seeing him naked wasn’t anything different. she had seen him vulnerable and naked. happy and naked. it was normal for them and they understood each other and their boundaries. his eyes were bloodshot and there his face was red. Charley picked up the towel on the floor and Colson shut off the shower. she put the towel around him and he just stood there looking at himself in the mirror. he felt like he was worth nothing. Charley walked him out to his bedroom and helped him dry and change. it was like she was looking after casie when she was a toddler again. Charley helped Colson into his bed and then turned the record player off and closed the bedroom door. he just lay there crying. Charley climbed into the bed behind him. she wrapped her arms around him and he held onto her hands. “I'm sorry Colson I'm so sorry” she said. she could feel his breath on her fingers. a tear fell onto her hand and she let out a small sigh. Charley pressed a kiss to Colson's head and held him tighter than she ever had done before. as he just cried in her arms.

[queenofcats17]

A request from Arty_Girl  on AO3

I have no idea if you're still taking requests for this thing, but if you are I'd love to see some Shawn x Wally hurt/comfort. I don't care what the subject is, but bonus points if one of them has been beat up (broken bones or whatever) Thank you so much if you do this! =)

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

The first thing Wally had done upon regaining his human form was to look for Shawn. He needed to see him. Needed to hold him and feel his warmth. Needed to make sure that this was real. That it wasn’t some sick joke Joey was playing on him. He’d had dreams like this sometimes. Dreams where he’d be human again, out of the studio and happy. Then he’d wake up and be reminded of the Hell he’d found himself in. But this was real. It had to be. Henry had freed them. Henry had never been in his dreams before. Wally wanted this to be real so badly. 

“Shawn! Shawn, where are you?!” He yelled, running through the hallways. He had to find Shawn. If he could hug Shawn, he could prove to himself that this was real. If he could just feel Shawn’s warmth, he’d know it was real. He could never feel warm when he’d been Boris. The ink was always cold. 

There were others in the hallways, but Wally didn’t pay any attention to them. He didn’t care about anyone but Shawn. Wally’s heart pounded in his ears. He couldn’t be sure if that was real or not. The heartbeat of the ink could be deceptive sometimes. Then he heard Shawn’s voice calling out to him. 

“Wally!” Shawn came skidding around a corner, looking equally frantic. 

Upon seeing one another, their faces lit up and they ran forward to collide with one other. They hugged each other as though they were afraid if they let go the other would disappear. In fact, that was exactly what they were afraid of. They were terrified if they let go, they’d find themselves alone again, consumed by the ink.

“I missed you so much.” Wally hiccuped, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. 

“I missed you too.” Shawn hugged him tighter. Even he was starting to cry a little. He’d never been afraid to cry in front of Wally.

“I th-thought I was never gonna see you again.” Wally buried his face in Shawn’s chest, not even caring about the ink he was smearing all over his face. He had nothing to fear from the ink anymore. 

“I’m here now.” Shawn ran his fingers through Wally’s hair. He’d always loved playing with Wally’s hair. It was so soft and curly, and it looked especially cute when Wally was asleep and it was all mussed up and sticking every which way. Even now, it was still so soft. 

They stood there for a long time, holding one another. Wally wailed out of happiness, while Shawn cried quietly. It felt so good to cry and not see ink for once. It felt good to be together. 

“Are you alright?” Shawn asked once he’d composed himself. He brushed some of the hair out of Wally’s face, his fingers lingering on the other man’s skin. He was tempted to count all of Wally’s freckles, punctuating each one with a kiss. That had never failed to send Wally into a bout of giggles. Wally had the cutest laugh. 

“I’ve been worse.” Wally let out something between a sob and a laugh. “I’m just glad I’m not a dog anymore.”

“Amen to that.” Shawn laughed. “Didn’t much like being a fucking leprechaun.”

“Issat what Charley is? I could never tell.”

“I dunno. It’s a guess.” Shawn laughed again, tears threatening to well up once more. It felt so good to be human again. He’d almost started to give up hope.

“Do you wanna get outta here?” Wally asked, squeezing Shawn’s hand. “We could get something to eat.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Shawn said. 

They navigated their way back through the studio, past the others reuniting and celebrating their freedom. The door to the outside was open since others had already left. Wally stopped short of the door, jerking Shawn back with his sudden lack of movement. 

“What’s wrong?” Shawn looked back at him, brow already furrowed in concern.

“This is real, right?” Wally’s voice was small. “I don’t wanna walk through and then just...” He trailed off, shoulders hunching. “I don’t wanna wake up back there.”

“This is real,” Shawn assured him with a gentle smile. 

Wally didn’t seem like completely believed him, but he allowed Shawn to drag him into the light. He let out an involuntary gasp at feeling the sunlight on his skin. It was so warm. This had to be real. He never felt warm in the studio. He started to cry again, hugging Shawn. Shawn started to cry too, just out of sheer relief. 

“You’re such drama queens.” Sammy scoffed from a few feet away. 

“Oh, come on!” Jack elbowed him in the ribs. “You cried too when you got out!” Sammy flushed and muttered something. 

“I’m gonna eat until I throw up!” Wally proclaimed proudly, breaking away from Shawn to run delightedly around the overgrown lawn. Shawn couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Wally run around. Gods, he loved that man. 

“If you two are hungry, I can take you to my house and get you some food.” Henry offered, sticking his head out of his car. 

“Really?” Wally turned quickly around, running over to the car. 

“Careful, you’re gonna fall!” Shawn ran to his side. 

“Yeah, really.” Henry nodded. “I mean, you guys probably don’t have a home to go back to, right?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Wally deflated a bit, leaning against Shawn. He’d almost forgotten about that. 

“Hey, you can still probably eat until you’re sick,” Shawn said, putting an arm around Wally. Wally nodded, leaning closer to Shawn. His joy had been quashed by the remembrance that he had been trapped in that studio for 30 years. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Wally.” Shawn gave him a comforting squeeze, kissing his head. Wally smiled slightly. 

“Alright, then.” Henry went around to get in the driver’s seat. “Let’s go.” 

“Shall we?” Shawn asked, glancing at Wally. 

“Hell yeah.” Wally managed a tired laugh, getting in. It would be so nice to eat some food other than bacon soup.

[quickeningheart]

Twenty-Two

  Stoker was seriously contemplating building himself a new hideout. While the laboratory he kept well-hidden in the wilderness was large and well-stocked with equipment and supplies, it was becoming more and more difficult to come and go as he pleased without detection. He'd done his best to keep his whereabouts a secret, but Limburger was definitely onto him, if the amount of hired thugs constantly sent out to tail him was any indication. The goons might not have been particularly intelligent, but they were annoyingly persistent; Stoker knew that one of these days he was gonna slip up and lead someone right to his lab, and then everything he'd spent the last ten earth years trying to achieve would be sent straight down the proverbial crapper.

   Even the thought of all the work it would require to set up a new workshop was exhausting, but he couldn't risk his project by staying where he was, and he didn't want to move house to one of his other, smaller hideaways scattered across the country. Moving farther from Chicago—and therefore from his comrades—just didn't sit well with him.

   Which was why he found himself cruising down the ruined streets of the large warehouse district not far from Charley's garage. What had once been thriving industrial businesses were now nothing but empty husks of their former glory, ranging from mildly dilapidated to completely demolished. Not even the street gangs and city lowlifes bothered much with the abandoned neighborhood anymore; there wasn't any point as there was no longer anyone left to terrorize. Now they tended to hang out in other areas, living it up in the massive chasms edging the outskirts of Chicago.

   The result of Limburger's past handiwork, the Pits had become home to every sort of human criminal in Illinois over the past few years. Everyone knew it, including the police. Yet, for some reason, they never seemed to have enough of a reason to go in and raid the place. Stoker was certain that was the result of Limburger's handiwork, as well. He'd bribed the law enforcement and government officials to leave the Pits alone; in exchange, the Pit Boss left Limburger's extensive enterprise alone, and provided all the hired muscle needed to do his dirty work. It was a very beneficial business arrangement all around.

   While that knowledge really ground Stoker's gears, right now it worked well to his benefit. Nobody bothered with this district—including Limburger—which meant he had free access to the empty warehouses. And on the off-chance that anyone should get a little too nosy, they could easily be taken care of; after facing down squadrons of Plutarkian soldiers, a few stray punks were hardly any threat. He'd become an expert at setting alarms and traps. If Limburger sent more goons to trail him, they'd be in for some nasty shocks. He couldn't do much in the way of self-defense in the middle of the wilderness, but abandoned factories full of potentially hazardous junk was a different matter altogether.

   With a little planning and a lot of fortification, Stoker was sure he could rig up a decent laboratory to continue his work while he was on earth. A little careful rerouting would give him ample power needed to run his diagnostics, and he'd be right on the home turf, ready to lend a hand should the rookies need it. As much as it aggravated him to admit it, those hours-long rides between the city and his lab were really starting to wear on his body. It would be a nice change to not have his muscles and bones constantly aching from the strain.

   A sharp beep snapped him out of his inner musings, and he nearly lost control of his bike when it made a sudden veer to the left, narrowly missing the lone figure trudging down the middle of the street, who yelped with fright and scrambled out of the way. "Watch where you're going!" she screeched, and Stoker's eyes widened when he immediately recognized Alley's voice. He slammed on the brakes and made a sharp turn, coasting back her way. What was she doing, wandering these streets all by herself? True, he hadn't seen so much as a stray cat in the general vicinity, but still. She had to know that walking alone wasn't safe! Had something happened to her? Again? He chuckled and shook his head. That woman was a walking trouble magnet, and if he had any sense, he'd keep his distance.

   Too bad his sense always seemed to shrivel up and die whenever those gorgeous blue eyes turned his way.

   He pulled to a stop beside her, opening his visor to turn on the charm … and it was then that the distinct odor of Plutarkian hit him full in the face.

   He reared back with surprise and mild alarm; a soft whufff escaped before he could catch himself, and Alley scowled at him, not missing the flash of disgust that wrinkled his sensitive nose. She started to walk on, but he didn't give her a chance. He was off his bike in a second and blocking her path, frowning down at her. "What happened?" he asked, concern sharpening his tone.

   "Nothing," she snapped, her scowl deepening. He felt her defenses go up, preparing for a fight, and bit back a sigh. As much as their bantering amused him, she could be downright exasperating when she set her mind to it. And while he knew she had every right to be a little peeved at him for his behavior the night before, right now it was time to let bygones be bygones. He wasn't about to let her clam up on this subject. Not when her safety was at risk.

   "Nothing?" he repeated, one eyebrow raising. "I can smell Plutarkian all over you."

   "Then feel free to take yourself upwind." She attempted to step around him. Again, he blocked her path, and she glowered. "I'm fine," she insisted. "Get out of the way!"

   Stoker exhaled a deep sigh and tried for patience, resting his hands on her slim shoulders. "Alley," he began gently, and a startled expression crossed her face at the rare use of her name. "If Limburger did anything to you, hurt you in any way, you need to tell me. Please."

   Her brow furrowed and she glanced around nervously; it occurred to him that she never seemed to know how to respond when he was being serious with her, filing that information away for later consideration. "Did Limburger lay hands on you?" he pressed, and she winced when his fingers inadvertently tightened at the thought. He immediately gentled his grip, rubbing her shoulders briefly in apology.

   "He didn't touch me," she finally mumbled. "He just … caught me by surprise, and one of his guys came up behind me and forced me into his car."

   "Why didn't you fight back?" he asked, offering a wry grin. "You've got a hell of a right hook."

   "Yeah, well, wouldn't do much good against the gun in my back."

   A low growl erupted deep in his throat, making her eyes widen. He forced himself to calm down. "What happened next?"

   "That's nobody's business but mine." She tried to ease away, but he maintained a steady grip on her shoulders and gazed patiently down at her. When she stubbornly refused to talk, he sighed deeply and nodded toward his bike. "Hop on. I'll give you a lift back."

   "There's nothing wrong with my legs."

   "Just do an old soldier a favor and get on. Your cousin would skin me alive and use my pelt as a coat if she found out I'd let you walk through this neighborhood by yourself."

   "Fine." She huffed a sigh and stomped to the bike, started to swing a leg over the seat, only to stumble when the machine rolled smoothly forward. She eyeballed it cautiously and tried again … with the exact same result. She nearly fell that time, Stoker's quick reflexes the only thing keeping her from a pair of scraped knees.

   "Stop that," he scolded, scowling and giving the rear wheel a light kick. "What's got into you?" He was answered with a series of sharp beeps.

   "Your pet doesn't seem to like me," Alley muttered, backing away.

   "Hmm. Maybe 'cause you clocked me?" He winked. "She's kind've protective of me."

   "You deserved that and you know it!" she snapped.

   He sighed and scratched his head. "Yeah, I sorta did," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Stuck my foot where it didn't belong, I guess."

   "Yeah. Straight up your—" Alley broke off with a yelp when the bike suddenly rolled backward, the rear tire missing her foot by mere inches. "Okay, that's it." She turned to stomp away. "No way in hell are you gettin' me onto that homicidal machine! I've seen too many movies with these scenarios and they never end well."

   "Now look what you did," Stoker scolded the bike. "Way to make an impression."

   It gave a sulky grumble in reply.

   "I don't wanna hear it." He waved it away. "Take yourself back to the garage and think about your actions. I'll walk." He strode after Alley, leaving the still-grumbling bike to roll off like a dejected puppy.

     ~*~*~*~*~

   They'd only been walking a few minutes more before they caught sight of Charley racing full-tilt up the street toward them, a panicked expression on her face. He easily deduced the cause of her fright, holding out his hands in a reassuring gesture as she approached. "Relax, we're both fine," he said.

   She came to a stumbling halt, bent double with hands resting on her knees for support as she gasped for breath. "You scared the crap outta me, Stoke," she scolded. "Your bike came roaring into the garage all by itself… I thought something had happened to you!"

   "Nah, just keeping a pretty lady company." He jerked a thumb in Alley's direction.

   Charley shot her an exasperated glance. "And do I even wanna know why you're here? I thought you were at the school."

   "Long story," Alley muttered.

   "She had a run-in with Limburger," Stoker supplied bluntly.

   Alley pursed her lips. "Okay, not that long."

   "What happened? Are you okay?" Charley started to look panicked again.

   "I'm fine." Alley's shoulders slumped. "We just talked, that's all."

   "After forcing her into his car at gunpoint," Stoker put in.

   Alley glared. "Feel free to take yourself back to the garage," she snapped, pointing in its general direction.

   "Alley Cat, come on. You know we're just trying to help," Charley coaxed, slinging an arm around her cousin's shoulder. "Just tell us about it, and maybe we can come up with a game plan."

   "I wasn't supposed to let anybody know anything," Alley sighed, head drooping. "If Limburger finds out I told…"

   "He'll have to go through us to get to you," Stoker growled, expression darkening. "And we won't make that easy for 'im. Trust me on that."

   "It's not him getting to me that's the problem," she complained. "It's what he won't do that has me worried."

   "Which is…?" Charley prompted.

   Alley sighed again. "Just lemme get back and take a shower to wash this stink outta my hair. I'll fill you in on all the gory details later." At their dubious expressions, she cracked a small smile and held up four fingers. "Scout's honor."

   "Alley Cat, that's still the—"

   "Oh, shut up."

     ~*~*~*~*~

   Feeling much more humane now that she could freely breathe without the lingering odor of Eu de Dead Fish in her nostrils, Alley sat down in the kitchen with the entire gang and related the story over plates of hot dogs.

   When she finished talking, there was immediate uproar, with all of the mice in favor of storming the tower and blowing it up again. Alley panicked at that. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything! You macho lunkheads are gonna ruin the whole thing and then I'll never get back into college!" she wailed.

   Stoker ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. "So, seems like this is my fault," he muttered, scowling. "Limburger got suspicious of my actions, now Alley's the one sufferin' for it."

   "It ain't like you knew he was gonna target her," Throttle pointed out.

   "Yeah. If we're gonna play the blame game, you might as well point fingers my way. He targeted her 'cause she's related to me," Charley added.

   "Oh yeah! That's another thing." Alley glanced at her cousin, frowning. "He called me Parker. He knows my history. He deliberately dug it up for some reason."

   Charley tsked. "Now, what was that supposed to accomplish?"

   "Beats me. He seemed to think us not being blood related would—" Alley cut herself off, suddenly aware of four pairs of eyes fixed on her with varying levels of surprise. She raised an eyebrow at the gawping mice. "What?"

   "You … ain't related?" Modo ventured, frowning.

   Alley blinked at him, then glanced at Charley. "Didn't you tell them?"

   "Oh. I guess it never came up. Honestly, never even occurred to me to mention it." The mechanic shrugged with a grin.

   "What it?" Vinnie asked.

   Alley shrugged. "I'm adopted," she replied simply, and smirked when four furry jaws dropped. "Look, it's easy. My birth dad died when I was really little, like barely two. My mom met the Davidsons when her car broke down, and she and Charley's uncle hit it off and eventually got married. That happened when I was five. Dad officially adopted me just after that and I became a Davidson, too. I mean, it's all there in public records and all, but it ain't like it's right up there for anyone to just stumble over—"

   "—which means Limburger deliberately went digging around fishing for info about you," Charley finished with a frown.

   "Yeah. He seemed to think I'd be willing to help him because we're not 'really cousins'." Alley quoted the air with her fingers.

   "Heh. Typical Plutarkian family values," Stoker snorted. "They ain't exactly known for their loyalty to kin. Theirs is a fish-eat-fish world. Literally. Plutarkian clans are spawned in the thousands, and, well … you ever watch those nature shows? About the fish and insects that hatch and it's basically survival of the fittest from the get go?"

   The women gaped at him. "You mean they actually try to eat each other?" Charley looked disgusted at the idea.

   "Yep." Vinnie wrinkled his snout. "The ones who survive to adulthood are the lucky ones."

   "Yeah," Modo put in. "An' it ain't no wonder they're all the baddest, meanest species in the known universe."

   "They'd be somebody's lunch if they weren't," Throttle finished with a shake of his head.

   "Wow. That's enough to almost make me feel sorry for them," Alley said. She was met with blank stares all around. "I said almost," she huffed, then sniggered. "Given the size of him, Limburger's probably an only child by this point."

   "Ugh. And here I didn't think I could loathe the Plutarkians any more." Charley wrinkled her nose. "So, anyway, now that we know what Limburger is up to, what're we gonna do about it? He's gonna expect an answer soon. And he'll get suspicious if he doesn't get one."

   "I ain't just handin' over my plans," Stoker said firmly.

   "Well, nobody expects that. But I do want to know what these plans of yours are." Charley fixed him with a stern look. "They dragged my family into this mess, so fair's fair. If he's desperate enough to find out what you're up to, who's to say he'll stop with Alley? What if he decides to expand out and go after our parents as well? They have no idea what's going on over here. They'll never stand a chance!"

   "He's never gone after them before," Throttle said doubtfully.

   "He's never gone after my cousin before, either. Now that the idea's in his brain…"

   Vinnie placed a comforting arm around Charley's shoulders. "Time to fess up, Stoke. What've you been up to down here that has you wanderin' off all the time?"

   The old general sighed and sat back in his chair, considering. "No harm in telling you now, I guess," he grunted, before getting to his feet and stomping down to the garage. He returned moments later carrying a long cylinder tube, from which he pulled several rolled blueprints. He spread them over the table, using cups and plates to hold down the curling edges. The mice and Charley gathered around to examine the plans. Alley took a quick glance but quickly gave up; they were a bunch of layouts for what looked like a weapon of some sort, but the writing was all in an alien language. Judging from the growing astonishment and beginnings of delight spreading on the boys' faces, though, it seemed to be something amazing.

   "Stoke! This is—" Modo couldn't finish the thought, swallowing several times. His single eye was suspiciously glassy.

   "Does this mean…?" Vinnie breathed, looking awed.

   "We-we're saved," Throttle murmured, shaking his head. His eyes were wide behind his specs. "Mars will be whole again." He seemed dazed.

   Alley leaned in to whisper to Charley, "Is it a super laser or something?"

   "No," she whispered back. "It's no weapon. I can't make sense of all of it, but it seems to be some kind of a … a conductor."

   "I call it the Regenerator." Stoker glanced around the table, smiling. "It's a matter-conversion device that will hopefully restore Mars to its former glory. It can create water, food, plant life … the possibilities are endless, really. Right now, it's nothin' more than an idea and a bunch've parts and supplies I've been gathering. It requires very specific ingredients that are difficult to come by. Ironically, the most important ingredient—its power source—are tetra-hydrocarbons, found only on earth."

   "So you've been out searching for them?" Charley asked.

   "Yep. In the wilds. Deep in the mountains. They're rare, though. And hard to get to."

   "Why all the secrecy, Coach?" Throttle asked. "We could've helped you search—"

   "Negative, soldier." Stoker shook his head. "Tetra-hydrocarbons are dangerous to work with. Too much exposure can lead to nasty results. Mutation of cells and other such pleasant experiences. Not only that, I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up too high, in case it's a failure." He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "I can't make promises that it'll even work. But I had to try."

   Charley placed her hands on Stoker's shoulder and squeezed. "Stoker, in all this time I've known you, you've never let us down. When you say you'll do something, you always do it and succeed. Mars has faith in you. You will definitely be able to build your Regenerator and it will work."

   "No pressure!" Alley chirped, smiling innocently at her cousin's exasperated glance.

   "We definitely can't let the stinkfish get their greasy hands on those plans," Modo rumbled, frowning. "It'd be disastrous."

   "Well, couldn't it be a good thing?"

   All eyes turned to Alley, who squirmed under the sudden scrutiny. "Look, hear me out. I mean, this Regenerator is supposed to build stuff, right? Like natural resources?" She waved a hand. "Say it does work. So, the Plutarkians attack other planets 'cause they're on the endless quest for stuff for their planet. But if they had a machine that made endless resources, they wouldn't have to go out hunting down and stealing everyone else's! They could all go home and waste resources to their hearts' content and leave the rest of the universe alone. Happy endings all around! Yay!"

   Vinnie's jaw dropped. "Say, that ain't a bad idea!"

   "It does seem pretty logical," Modo agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

   "Nope, wouldn't work," Throttle grunted, earning a frown from Alley. "The stinkfish are fighters by nature. They're born straight into it and it's all they know. If Stoke's right and you can build anything with this machine, what's to stop 'em from makin' bigger, better weapons and ships and findin' some other reason to attack planets?"

   "Have to agree," Stoker added. "Aside from that, tetra-hydrocarbons aren't limitless. Their power would eventually run down, and as it's something the Regenerator can't recreate, earth would always be a prime target for Plutarkians. They'd tear this planet apart looking for new replenishment."

   Alley sighed and Charley patted her shoulder. "It was a good idea, though. Smart thinking," she encouraged.

   "It was, actually." Stoker rubbed his chin, eyes narrowed in thought as he stared down at the blueprints. "It might actually hold a bit of merit."

   "Uh-oh." Charley raised an eyebrow. "I recognize that look. What are you thinkin' now?"

   "I'm thinkin' I can recognize a good opportunity when I see one." Stoker glanced up, a sly grin curling his mouth. "Ladies and gents, I think it's time we set up a little trap of our own."

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