#workin through some personal things before i even Think about gettin in any way involved with anyone else

[morning-might-arrive]

Here’s the continuation of my last post. Thank you so much to everyone who liked and reblogged! This is becoming a lot longer than I thought, so there will be another part soon. Feedback is appreciated!

A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.

Wednesday

Jackson sighed as he silenced his blaring alarm clock. 7:00 am. As he walked to the bathroom to get ready, he was suddenly struck by a memory.

“It’s nothing personal, normie. You just look like such a freak.” Manny told him as he shoved him off of the lunch table. Jackson looked towards the other mansters, but they said nothing. So they all agreed. Even Clawd. 

He cringed. He’d had to eat lunch in a bathroom stall that day. He looked at his reflection, desperately wishing he could change it. He sighed and got dressed. He had to leave early since he now had no car and his parents weren't home. He plugged his headphones into his phone. Holt had gotten them into this situation, only fitting that he deal with it.

Holt Hyde cursed under his breath as he walked to school. Although the weather was warming, mornings in March were still frigid. He sighed in relief as he approached Monster High.

“Heya there, sweetpea,” Operetta drawled in greeting as Holt waltzed through the front doors of the school. 

“What’s good, Oppy?” Holt responded, his usual loud and energetic self even at the early hour.

“Just peachy keen like always, hun. Say, you seen the Ghostly Gossip lately?” She asked.

“Nah, we usually stay away from that garbage ever since that story about us and Frankie. Humiliated the poor ghoul and almost tanked our relationship. It really ain’t cool what they're doin’.” He replied nonchalantly. 

“Oh. Okay. Well sugar, you know you can tell me anythang you wanna, right?” She continued.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks Oppy.” That was kinda weird for the rough and tumble ghoul to say, but honestly Holt was just glad their botched attempt at dating didn’t mess up their friendship. Oppy was a cool ghoul. 

“What’s the word, cool cats?” Came a new voice.

“Johnny!”

“Johnny.”

Johnny spirit sauntered casually down the main corridor of Monster High, and students jumped out of his way as if he had the plague. He put his arm around Operetta’s shoulder. “Hey, babe.”

Holt snorted. “I’ll never get why everyone lets you float around like you own the place.”

Johnny shrugged. “Guess they don’t have a choice. Besides, I never see you doing anything about it,” he replied with a bit of challenge in his tone. Holt rolled his eyes.

“You know you don’t scare us, Spirit. Anyway, it seems like Oppy’s got you on a leash without our help.”

Johnny bristled at that “Y’know Hyde, I’m gettin’ real sick of-”

“Why don’t we scamper on down to the catacombs and finish that new song we been workin on, sugarpie?” Operetta cut in. She really didn’t want to deal with a fistfight this early.

The couple walked away and Holt made toward the auditorium. He found the symphony on stage setting up and dashed up to join them, plugging his guitar into its amp. Jennifire was nearby greasing the corks on her clarinet. He huffed and sat down next to her.

“Another run in with the phantom pianist?” She asked, not even looking up.

“That guy is such a jerk!”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You boys are so easily provoked; I may never understand it. My brothers were just the same. He has done not to insight your anger.”

Holt really hated to admit it, but she was right. Johnny really didn't scare Holt, and he knew a little better than to try that tough guy act on Jackson. Plus, it was kinda funny seeing guys like Heath and Manny faint when he walked past them.

“Your emotions run like wildfire, I am very impressed you came to terms so easily with your end.” She continued.

Wait. What. “My what now?”

“Of course, it must be so hard for you to talk about. I am sorry.” A tear fell from her eye and promptly turned to smoke upon hitting her face.

“Jen, are you okay?” Holt asked, facing her.

She smiled. “Yes, I will be okay. So kind of you to think of me.”

“Okay, Okay, enough chit chat. Places people!” The director yelled as he approached the stage. Well. That was weird. Holt took his place in the stool beside the amp and looked up as the director began counting them off.

After an awkward hour of rehearsal, they were dismissed to second period. Holt emerged out into the crowd of students in the hall. Jennifire was nowhere to be found, so he made his way toward the art room. His Spotify playlist suddenly changed to a song by Pierce the Veil. He pulled out his phone to skip it and saw he had a message from Jackson. He scoffed. If D-low had told him what was wrong, would he be asking? JJ could be so oblivious. Maybe it was just a normie thing. 

He took his usual seat in front of his canvas and continued his painting for this week. 

“Psst, Holt.” he heard a whisper. He turned and met the shiny magenta eyes of retired popstar Catty Noir. “We’re turning up at Cleo’s place on Saturday, you in?”

“Yeah totally- oh, nevermind. We can’t make it, we kinda got a...thing that day.”

“Oh,” she said, looking kind of taken aback. “It’s that soon?” 

“What was that?”

“ I said I’ll see you soon!” she hastily corrected herself as she got up and turned in her painting, promptly leaving the art room. Man, everyone's acting off today. He touched up his work and quickly followed suit.

He basically had the rest of the period to himself, so he decided to riff on his guitar for a little bit. He couldn’t do it in the building anymore ever since that one time Headmistress Bloodgood caught him, so he moved to the front steps and set his bag beside him.

“Hey Holt!”

Holt turned towards the front of the school. “Frankie Fine-Stein! Where have you been hiding?” Her skin glowed a light mint green and her eyes sparked in the sun. Just as bootiful as ever. She sat on the step beside him.

“I was actually just in the library. I found this book about the original Jekyll and Hyde. It was way harsh; It said that Edward Hyde trampled a child in the streets of London, is that true?”

“Nuh-uh! Those stuffy normie’s didn’t like that grandpa’s were different so they dragged their reputation through the dirt!” Holt declared passionately. “Some of the people they charged him with killing didn’t even exist in the first place! Then they made Dr. Jekyll out to be a complete basket case and threw them both in jail! That is until they got bailed out by our great-great-grandma, Lucy.”

“Oh, man. I didn’t know any of that!” Frankie replied. She actually knew all about it, she had heard the exact same thing from Jackson before. They were both incredibly salty about the smear campaign launched against their great-great-grandparents that made their family flee to America in the first place, and you could hardly bring it up around them without a passionate rant. Frankie felt a little bad about bringing up something she knew was a sore subjet for them, but she had to make sure Spectra and the other ghouls didn’t get caught. It was for their own good, right?

Her phone buzzed in her lap and she glanced down. “Spectra got something, meet us back in the library.” Clawdeen. Frankie jumped up. “Sorry, Holt, I really gotta go.”

Holt watched her go in curiosity. He checked the time and quickly jumped up himself and dashed back inside the building. The only way to not be late now was to go through Section C, the so-called “vampires only” hallway. It really irked them when other monster’s used it, but he didn’t really care when it was either that or detention. As he made his way through he felt someone glaring at him, and met eyes with a large group of the former prep-school vampires. He braced himself, but instead of giving him grief like they usually did, they just let him pass. They were acting weird, but so was everyone else. Oh well, he didn’t really have time to think about it now.

Holt’s third period was Chemistry 2 with Mr. Hack. No thanks. Science was never his strong suit. Plus, there was seriously something off about this particular teacher. He just took a little too much pleasure in the cutting open of living things for Holt’s liking. He pulled out his phone.

“Keep an eye out. Today’s been weird, Bro.” He typed the message out and then disconnected his phone from his headphones. The world went dark.

Jackson blinked a few times. What was that ringing sound? “Oh, shOOT!” He bolted through the closest door- which just happened to be the right one- and took his seat as the bell finished ringing.

Mr. Hack passed out a hefty amount of worksheets to the class. “Okay class: no whispering, no talking, no looking around, no coughing or sneezing, no you can’t use the bathroom, and if I catch you on your cell phone the whole class gets detention. You have until the end of the class to complete the worksheets or it's a 0 for today.”

Everyone groaned. Good old Mr. Hack. Charming and likeable. Jackson tried to ignore the stares and whispers in his direction as he did his work. He knows he’s different, don’t they ever get tired of reminding him? Were they all paying more attention to him than usual, or was it just his imagination? He blazed through his work in about 20 minutes, it was just some simple thermodynamics equations. He looked up and noticed that Mr. Hack was asleep. Typical. Half the class were on their phones and the other half were talking amongst themselves. He pulled his phone out and saw Holt’s message.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t just his imagination then, everyone was acting a little odd. Granted, every day at Monster High was pretty weird. Last week they had lost their school crest in a rollerblading contest and the school nearly toppled over, so maybe he could just ignore whatever this was.

The bell finally rang for lunch. He set his work on Mr. Hack’s desk as he jolted awake and practically ran from the room. He shot Clair a text

“Okay, transportation is set and decorations bought. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Measurements, goofy.” She responded almost instantly.

“Oh, right. I can get a tape measure from the woodshop teacher and get them during lunch.”

“Have you told the other monsters about Saturday?”

“No. I just don’t know how they’ll react, y’know?”

“Aren’t they always telling you about how you don’t belong? So why would they care?”

“Yeah you’re probably right. It’s just a difficult situation.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Let me know how it goes.”

Looking down at his phone, he didn’t notice Draculara until he bumped her as he passed.

“So sorry!” He exclaimed. 

“It’s alright.” She reassured him as she walked away. She made her way to the library where her friends were already gathered around in a circle. Spectra floated in the center.

“What’s this all about?” Draculara asked.

“While Frankie had Holt distracted, Spectra looked in his locker.”

“Well what did she find?” Cleo demanded.

“Just this. It appears to be a receipt for some kind of car rental.”

Clawd glanced at his phone. “Heath says Jackson is in the boys locker room right now taking measurements of himself and writing them down.” He told the group.

“Then what Spectra said is true.” Fraknie finally admitted. The room fell into extended silence.

“Well we can at least show Jackson he means something to us.” Draculara spoke up.

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, “we can do something nice for him and Holt.”

“What are we going to do? Hijack the gym and throw a huge party during lunch?” Cleo asked sardonically.

“You’re on a roll Cleo! It’ll be closed tomorrow, but we can do it Friday!” Clawdeen agreed.

Cleo smiled. Very well then. Friday would be a day for the monster history books.

[commander-diomika]

Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Rating: Gen Word Count: ~2000 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Rating Will Change to Explicit in Later Parts, Opposites Attract, just two people trying to figure out how to keep the peace with each other and very occasionally succeeding

Summary: Part 2 is here, set several months after Part 1 in a Damascus safehouse. (here's Part One)

"There was another Sending from Curie’s people.” From a side-table awash with documents, Zolf fetched a piece of paper. “New workin’ theory on London, some kind of disease, rather than mind control."

Wilde frowned. “Oh, that’s much worse. Mind control magic at least implies some kind of central power system, a culprit to be fought. If it’s an illness… it might just be chaotic, undirected spread.” Wilde's eyes were shrewd. This was the Wilde that Zolf actually liked working with.

“The message doesn’t sound certain. Just a theory.” Zolf pointed out. He settled back. The couch was a threadbare number but it was comfortable enough, and this wasn’t the first evening they’d spent sitting here discussing plans and directions.

The two of them couldn’t have gotten the hell out of Cairo at a better time. Two weeks after Zolf and Wilde made their quiet exit from the Meritocrats, Aphophis disappeared, taking with him the last few loyal agents. In the ensuing chaos, Wilde pulled some strings and… appropriated significant funding for the next phase. Enough to rent a modest base of operation in Damascus, where they had been for the past few months.

Zolf wasn’t quite sure how Wilde made it all happen so smoothly. At the time he’d just thought Wilde got lucky. Though having worked together for just a few months, he was tempted to say Wilde got lucky a lot… Or perhaps he was just very good at making it seem that way.

“Ho, Wilde,” Zolf called from the kitchen, as he heard Wilde enter the townhouse.

His companion entered the adjoining sitting room, dressed almost-sensibly for the heat in a cream linen suit, a satchel slung over his shoulder.

“What you got there?” Zolf called. He had been chopping vegetables for the evening meal but seeing that Wilde looked flush with success, Zolf put the knife down and wiped off his hands as he went to join him.

His step faltered as he realised that Wilde, once again, was not alone. With him was the man Zolf couldn’t help but think of as “the interloper”.

Alfred Douglas stood just a few inches shorter than Wilde, similarly dark haired and dashing, as he followed Wilde into the sitting room and greeted Zolf with a winning smile. “Hello, Mr Smith.” Wilde had once said that he chose his friends for their good looks, and to look at Alfred, Zolf would begrudgingly agree.

Zolf had met this newcomer just a few days ago. Returning from a fruitless trip to Turkey, he was shocked to find another person at the safehouse; an old friend, Wilde said. When pressed for details, Wilde had first deflected, demurred, and then dug his heels in. It had gotten ugly.

Not wanting to repeat the fight, Zolf just nodded tightly. “Douglas.”

“Oh please, I’ve been telling you, you can call me Bosie.” Zolf, basically immune to affected charm, ignored him and repeated his question to Wilde. “What’s in the bag, Wilde?”

“Books!” Wilde replied, pointedly ignoring the pair’s less-than-warm interaction.

One by one he produced several tomes from the leather satchel with a flourish, revealing each as if waiting for applause before placing them on the low wooden table. A History of Dwarven Achievements; Svalbard, a Japanese travel guide, and one more sizeable volume. Zolf couldn’t immediately understand the title, but he could see that it was written in Dwarvish. That last one gave a small puff of dust as Wilde gently ran his fingers through the pages before adding it to the pile.

“Bosie was such a help, weren’t you dear, I would never have found that last little merchant alone. I swear we went down so many side alleys it was like a maze!” Wilde’s voice was honeyed and light again. It made Zolf feel itchy and irritable. In the months they’d been in Damascus, he’d almost gotten Wilde to just act like a normal bloody person when it was just the two of them, instead of some conversational artiste looking to make a spectacle of every interaction. Two days in the interloper’s company and he was back to the same smarmy, dunkable cad Zolf had met in London.

“The Svalbard one wasn’t exactly easy to get our hands on, either. It’s not like anyone is doing transfers from The London Library anymore.” Wilde reported as he speedily shed jacket, hat and shoes, then plopped down on the settee. Still looking overly pleased with himself, he patted the seat next to him, inviting Bosie to sit. He did so.

“How did you go with your leads?” Wilde asked, still slightly breathless from the performance he made of unveiling the books.

Zolf’s lips pursed, and he considered not answering. Even though Wilde was probably telling him everything in the long hours they spent sequestered in Wilde’s room, it still felt wrong to discuss business with Douglas here. Since he’d arrived on the scene he’d been nothing but disarming smiles and quiet interest but…

Maybe I’m just bein’ paranoid, Zolf said to himself. It was immediately followed with another thought, unbidden and unwelcome. More like bein’ jealous.

That couldn’t possibly be the case, so Zolf opened his mouth and started speaking. “I went askin’ after our initial contact with the Hephaestus lot. You know, the one that sent me on that bloody wild goose chase?” Zolf’s recent trip to Ankara had been based on that lead. He’d been looking for Garten, with no success.

“Turns out she’s not keen on explaining to me why her lead was a blumin’ fake, and the rest of ‘em have closed up ranks.” Finding something to do that didn’t involve looking at either of them, Zolf picked up Wilde’s hat off the table and hung it on the hook by the door. “Also, it looks like the whole Cult is gettin’ ready to move, if I’m honest. A lot less folks workin’ and a lot more packin’ up than I saw last I wer’ there.” He picked up Wilde’s shoes and put them by the door.

“Yes, actually, I noticed something similar at the Artemisian temples the other day,” Douglas said thoughtfully.

Zolf glared at him. Who did he think he was?

As far as Zolf was concerned, the man’s only saving grace was that his sudden reappearance in Wilde’s life made him happy. Pleasant or positive things had been in short supply, and Zolf wasn’t a monster. But Douglas had been tottering about on thin ice since the moment he arrived, and his comments were only salting the surface.

Wilde’s eyes tracked between the two of them, and with a melodramatic sigh he said, “Perhaps you ought to head off, my dear.” He threw Zolf a glance that said there, are you happy now?

“Yeh, I’ve got some things to discuss with Wilde. In private.” Zolf added, eyebrows brewing up a thunderstorm.

Bosie tilted his head, an expression of mock-hurt on his face. It was an expression Wilde made often and Zolf did his best not to explode. These two were as bad as each other and getting worse.

Wilde made an apologetic shooing motion with his hands, and Douglas did as he was bid. He gathered his hat with a reproachful look at Zolf, and gave Wilde a peck on the cheek before leaving. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oscar.”

Wilde walked Douglas out and returned to the settee, sitting with an exasperated sigh.

It had been getting better between them, heroes with their backs against the wall that they were. It had been. For all that Wilde was insufferable when he got on his airs about “need-to-know information” and couldn’t cook and was constantly preening as though any of that even mattered… But for all the myriad of ways he got up Zolf’s nose, he was also talented. Adept at making and keeping contacts. Able to talk his way into places Zolf couldn’t even get a foot into. An incredible mind for language, information, and planning. He was useful to have around, and for that Zolf was trying his best to extend a bit of graciousness.

And for all Wilde was frustrating company, at least he was someone. Wilde had been dead right, back in Cairo. It was nice to not be alone.

A mulish expression settled on Wilde’s face. It was obvious he was getting ready to jump straight back into the argument about Douglas, but Zolf wasn’t in the mood to rehash the same angry words.

you need to trust me, Zolf

you ain’t supposed to hide things from me anymore

we’re supposed to be partners

it’s none of your business

I thought you were more careful than this

With all the tact of a glaive to the face, Zolf changed the subject.

“There was another Sending from Curie’s people.” From a side-table awash with documents, Zolf fetched a piece of paper. “New workin’ theory on London, some kind of disease, rather than mind control. But it is affectin’ paladins, so it’s not any kind of disease we’ve dealt with before.”

Wilde frowned. “Oh, that’s much worse. Mind control magic at least implies some kind of central power system, a culprit to be fought. If it’s an illness… it might just be chaotic, undirected spread.” As though a spell had been lifted, as soon as Douglas left the room, Wilde turned into a different person, sharp and incisive.

Zolf nodded in grim approval of Wilde’s assessment, moving to sit down next to him.

“She also reckons we start treatin’ it like something communicable. Isolatin’ when we’ve not been able to keep an eye on each other, so on.”

“Well, that’s not very practical for us, now is it. We don’t have the kind of operation Curie does, with the people and resources to run proper quarantine.” Wilde said, eyes shrewd. This was the Wilde that Zolf actually liked working with. “We split up all the time.”

“The message doesn’t sound certain. Just a theory.” Zolf pointed out. He settled back. The couch was a threadbare number but it was comfortable enough, and this wasn’t the first evening they’d spent sitting here discussing plans and directions.

“Still, a theory from one of the sharpest minds left on the planet. Worth giving credence to. Maybe we need to look at bringing a few more people on board.” Wilde paused, thoughtful. “How would you feel about working with James Barnes?”

Zolf cocked his head, unable to place the name for a moment. “Commander James Barnes?”

“The very same.”

Zolf’s jaw worked as he started several different sentences then abandoned them. “I mean, he’s in the Navy, ain’t he? Last I checked, that’s still under Meritocratic order.”

“Perhaps he won’t be with them for much longer.” Wilde said mysteriously. Zolf nearly called him on it. Fighting about the sudden inclusion of Douglas in their affairs, Zolf had pushed Wilde hard on his habit of half-truths and leading statements. He hadn’t gotten anywhere with it. He was starting to think Wilde might be just an incorrigible equivocator, and there was nothing to be done about it.

So Zolf simply grunted.

“So that’s a solid maybe on Barnes,” Wilde grinned. “Besides, we’ll be fine for the moment. I won’t go running off and recruiting anyone new, because now we’ve got Bosie.”

Zolf took a slow breath at this topic change. He gentled the first angry words that came to mind, and spoke. “Wilde… I know you trust him. I know you two have a long history. But in light of this-” Zolf tapped the transcribed Sending. “-I don’t know how I feel about you bringing him in on… everything.” It lay on the table next to the satchel.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Wilde said smoothly, grabbing the bag and reaching inside. “I managed to pick up one more thing.”

From the satchel he produced a much smaller item, a banged-up paperback with a bright cover.

“Ohhh it’s the second Hearts of Fire!” Zolf exclaimed. He knew a misdirect when he saw one but couldn’t contain himself. “Those are so hard to get!” He took the book-shaped olive branch from Wilde quickly, already opening to page one.

“I knew I shouldn’t have given it to you until you’d at least had a look at the Svalbard books,” Wilde teased.

Zolf considered Wilde over the top of the book for a long moment. Wilde wasn’t off the hook. Neither of them were. They would have to come back to this jagged mess of a conversation at some point, but for now, Zolf chose peace. Of a sort.

“Look, the quicker I’m done with it, the quicker you can have it. Don’t pretend like you haven’t read my Campbells. I’m not the one dog-earin’ the pages. I thought you were sposed to be a man of culture.”

“Oh, stop hounding me about it, Zolf,” Wilde said, picking up Dwarven Achievements and relaxing gratefully back into the couch. Zolf was already so engrossed he didn’t even groan.

[lipstick-spit]

jeremy, brooke

jeremy: are you in love with somebody? nah. i dont really have a crush rn honestly. dont even want one. im just chillin.

brooke: who are your best friends? obviously @emmiimmeme and @clarind-uh who do u think i am

[thelastspeecher]

Not bothering with a title because I couldn’t think of one.  Anyways, on the Discord recently, we added a bit more to the Spy AU and retconned a few things.  Two major things that were changed/added are that the spy agency that the Squad works for (and is run by Ma Guck) is now called Gravity Falls.  Meanwhile, the rival spy agency is called the Cipher Corp and is run by none other than Bill Cipher.  I’ll probably make a separate post later detailing the specifics of these changes.  The second major thing added/changed was that now more Gucks than just Angie, Fidds, and Ma Guck are involved in the spy world.

But you’ll see that here, in this ficlet that takes place during the time when Ford was hit by a de-aging toxin on a mission and turned into a three-year-old.  Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Basstian crouched down next to Ford and smiled at him.

              “That’s some mighty fine colorin’,” he said gently.  Ford looked up, beaming broadly.  Just last week, Ford would have bristled at Basstian’s paternal tone, but he seemed to slipping into a childlike mindset more and more lately. Basstian did his best to ignore the heartwrenching implications of this and just enjoy Ford’s new willingness to take naps.

              “It’s a dinosaur,” Ford said proudly.  Basstian ruffled Ford’s hair, still smiling at him.

              Lord, he looks so much like Stan ‘n Angie’s babies.  The door to the agency daycare opened.

              “Basstian,” a voice said.  Basstian stood and turned around.  Stan stood in the doorway, out of breath and clearly simmering with barely contained anger.

              “Stanley!” Ford chirped happily, getting to his feet.  Stan shot Ford a quick grin.

              “Hey, pipsqueak.”  Stan looked back at Basstian.  “We caught ‘im.”

              “Who?” Basstian asked.

              “The person responsible for this whole clusterfu…dge,” Stan said, quickly censoring his last word.  Basstian’s eyes widened.

              “You mean the person who…”  Basstian glanced at Ford, who, blissfully unaware of the tense nature of the conversation, had grabbed his coloring book and toddled over to Stan.

              “Yeah,” Stan said.  “I know you mostly just work with the kids here, but think you could stand in the corner all menacingly while I interrogate the guy?”

              “Sure,” Basstian said.

              “Stan,” Ford said, tugging on Stan’s pants.  “Look, I colored.”  Stan looked down at Ford.

              “Good work, bud.”  Stan ruffled Ford’s hair.

              “You didn’t even look at it!” Ford whined.

              “I’ll look in a bit, okay?  Basstian and I have to go talk to a bad guy first.”

              “But-”

              “How about you color another thing while we’re gone?” Basstian suggested. “Then you can show off two colorings when we get back.”  Ford frowned thoughtfully.

              “You drive a hard bargain, but okay,” he said after a moment.  Basstian gently nudged Ford back to the play area of the daycare.  Ford toddled over obediently and took a seat on the floor.

              “C’mon,” Stan said brusquely.  Basstian followed him out of the daycare, forgetting to close the door behind him in his haste.

              “How’d you guys track this guy down?” Basstian asked.  Stan stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched with anger.

              “We got a tip through one of our regular sources that the guy responsible for shrinking Ford was going to be making a dropoff at the park on Johnson. We got there, saw exactly what we were told to expect, knocked the guy out, and put a bag over his head to bring him back here.”

              “Who is he?”

              “Dunno.  We didn’t get a good look at him before we put the bag on his head.  We wanted to move as fast as possible.”

              “I can tell,” Basstian said, beginning to feel slightly out of breath from talking and keeping up with Stan’s frantic pace.  “Who’s ‘we’?”

              “Me and Angie.  Angie went off to go tell the boss that we finally nabbed the guy.  That way, she can step in if we need him to.”  Stan grinned viciously.  “No one’s better than your mom at getting people to sing like a bird.”

              “Amen,” Basstian mumbled.  They arrived at the interrogation room.  Stan slammed the door open and marched in.  Basstian looked over at the person sitting handcuffed to the table.  Like Stan had said, there was a bag over his head. Basstian silently entered the room and closed the door behind him.  Stan stormed over to the enemy agent.

              “Get ready to talk, you piece of shit,” Stan snarled.  He ripped the bag off the man’s head.  His jaw dropped.  “Harper?”

              “Howdy, Stanley,” the man said cheerfully.  Basstian stared.  Sitting at the table, grinning broadly at Stan, was his older brother.  “This is one heck of a how-do-ya-do, by the way.”

              “You son of a bitch,” Stan growled.  Harper raised an eyebrow.

              “That’s not a very polite thing to call yer mother-in-law.”

              “Fuck you, man.  You work for the Cipher Corp?  Do you have any clue what they do there?”

              “What can I say?  It’s a tough job market out there,” Harper said with a shrug.  Stan moved to stand across the table from Harper.  He crossed his arms.

              “You don’t seem very surprised to find out I work for Gravity Falls.”

              “I knew.”  At Harper’s casual statement, Basstian’s blood ran cold.  He looked at Stan, who had stiffened, the color draining from his face.  “Y’all had an agent that quit and came to work fer the Cipher Corp.  She told me ‘bout ya workin’ fer Gravity Falls.  It ain’t common knowledge, don’t worry.  We’re the only two what know.”  Harper cocked his head.  “And I ain’t told anyone Angie works fer Gravity Falls, neither.”

              “How the hell do you know that?” Stan hissed.

              “She told me the two of ya met at work.  But like I said, I ain’t told anyone.  I might be workin’ fer the Cipher Corp, but I protect my own.  I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt my baby sister.”

              “You protect your own, huh?” Stan demanded.

              “Yep.”

              “Your family.”

              “Yup.”

              “Bullshit,” Stan growled, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. Harper leaned forward as well.

              “It ain’t.  I protect my fam’ly.”

              “Then why the hell did you do that to Ford?!” Stan shouted.  Harper blinked.

              “Pardon?”

              “If you protect your family, why would you mess with your brother-in-law?”

              “I…didn’t,” Harper said, befuddled.

              “Fuck off!” Stan roared.

              “Stanley, I honestly have no clue what yer referrin’ to,” Harper said calmly. “I haven’t seen Stanford in some time. Isn’t he sick?”

              “He’s not sick, he’s-” Stan started.  The door to the interrogation room creaked open.  All three men looked over.  Basstian groaned quietly.

              Shoot.  He must’ve followed us.  Ford stood in the doorway, staring at Harper with wide eyes.  Basstian quickly walked over to Ford.

              “C’mon, kidlet, this ain’t the place fer ya,” Basstian said gently.  “Let’s get ya back to the daycare.”  Ignoring the startled look from Harper, who had just noticed him, he took a hold of one of Ford’s hands.  Ford shook him off and walked to Stan.

              “Bud, you can’t be here,” Stan said quietly.  Ford frowned at Harper thoughtfully.  “Go back to the daycare with Basstian, okay?”

              “No,” Ford said.  Stan sighed.

              “Who- who’s this lil feller?” Harper asked.  “And why’s he here?”  Stan glared at him.

              “Don’t play dumb,” Stan snapped.  “That’s Ford, and you know it.”

              “I- what?”

              “You’re the reason he’s like this!” Stan rumbled.  He slammed a fist on the table.  Harper’s eyes widened.

              “I…”  Harper took a breath.  “Explain.”

              “No,” Stan said flatly.  He scooped Ford into his arms.  “I’ve gotta get Ford back for naptime.”

              “My colorings,” Ford protested.

              “All right, all right, you can show me your colorings.  But right after, you’re taking a nap,” Stan said.  He headed out of the room.  “Get your finger out of your nose, you’re gonna give yourself a nosebleed.”  The sound of footsteps faded.  Harper stared at Basstian.

              “Basstian, what’s- what’s-” Harper stammered.  “Yer here, and that’s Ford, and-”  Harper closed his eyes.  “What’s goin’ on?”  Basstian walked over to the table.  He sat down across from Harper.

              “Yes, I work fer Gravity Falls.  I ain’t a field agent like Stan or Angie or Ford, though.  I mostly just work in the daycare.  Sometimes I help out with makin’ up backstories fer covers. And when they want someone stand ‘round lookin’ intimidating fer an interrogation, I get asked to come in. That’s why Stan wanted me here.” Basstian rubbed his forehead.  “I should’ve asked someone to keep on eye on Ford.  He’s started wanderin’ ‘round HQ lately, lookin’ fer Stan or Fidds.  Should’ve known he’d follow us back here.”

              “How is that- how is that Stanford?” Harper asked weakly.  Basstian met his eyes.

              “Like Stan said, don’t play dumb.  Yer the one what did that to him,” Basstian said firmly.  Harper paled.

              “He’s the agent I gave that toxin,” Harper croaked.  Basstian nodded.  Harper’s head drooped.  “Oh, Lord above.  I swear, I had no idea it was Stanford.  If I was, I wouldn’t have done it.”

              “I doubt Stan ‘ll believe ya.  Or forgive ya any time soon.  Ford’s condition is gettin’ pretty dire.  He’s in kid mode almost constantly now.”  Harper continued to pale further as Basstian was speaking.  “The folks in the lab say that if we don’t cure him soon, we won’t be able to.”

              “I- I know the cure,” Harper said.  “I can- I can make it.  I don’t want Stanford to have to grow up again.”

              “But you were fine with it when it was a stranger,” Basstian said. Harper was quiet.  “Why would ya work fer the Cipher Corp?  That movie job don’t pay ya enough?”

              “I don’t have a movie job,” Harper said.  “It was a cover.  Just like Stan and Angie’s terrible lie that they work in sales.  Well, Angie’s terrible lie.  No one would ever believe she’s a halfway decent salesman.”

              “We’re not talkin’ ‘bout this right now.”

              “Right.  Take me to the lab, I’ll whip up the cure.”

              “Not yet,” Basstian said.  “The boss ‘ll want to talk to ya first.”  Someone knocked on the door.  “That must be her.”  The door opened.  Harper looked over.  His jaw dropped.

              “Ma?”

[queen-scribbles]

Character Interview: Abigail

Tagged again by @haledamage​, using it to talk about my first (and favorite but shhh) Wayhaven Detective

name ➔ Abigail Jenings, you can call me Abigail or AJ.

are you single ➔ I’m... um... *blushes and looks down at her hands, picking furiously at a hangnail* don’t know? *sheepish chuckle* Check back in a couple weeks after... after I’ve had a chance to, um, get things worked out. I think I am, technically speaking. But hopefully not for much longer?

are you happy ➔ For the most part.

are you angry ➔ Not very often.

are your parents still married ➔ No. I think they would be, but Dad died when I was little.

NINE FACTS

birth place ➔ Wayhaven. I’ve lived here m’ whole life, ‘sides from college.

hair colour ➔ *she tugs on one loose and rebellious curl* Red, which is just as much a curse as it is a blessin’.

eye colour ➔ Dark blue. Mum says they look like stormy seas on the rare occasions I do get mad.

birthday ➔ The 13th of November, so.... tomorrow.

mood ➔ Relaxed, generally. Friendly and professional, I hope, when I’m on the job.

color scheme ➔ *vaguely self-deprecating snort*  Typical redhead colors; blues and greens and all that rubbish, though I am partial to purple, ‘specially more lilac shades, and every once in a great while I’ll slip in some pale pink, just b’cause I can.

gender ➔ Female.

summer or winter ➔ Summer, for sure. Have you ever been through a winter here? *shudders* Not fun, let me tell you.

morning or afternoon ➔ Morning, it’s great gettin’ to watch the world wake up.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ *her ears go bright red and she looks down at her lap again* I... might be. *she bites her lip and looks up, the flush spreading to her cheeks* I think I am. Just a wee bit, yeah?

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ i didn’t used to, thought that only happened in fairy tales and such, but now... I’m not so sure. *she tucks the curling lock of hair behind her ear and purses her lips* Given what else I know exists now, love at first sight’s not a far stretch.

who ended your last relationship ➔ I don’t really have one. Never had things go past a second date, so none of ‘em felt like relationships, y’know? We were both testin’ the waters an’ for one reason or another none of ‘em worked out.

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ I can’t think of anyone. *she frowns, mildly panicked at the thought* I certainly hope not.

are you afraid of commitments ➔ Quite the opposite, I”d love to find someone... well, actually, figure out if someone I’ve already found feels the same.

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Yeah, a couple people.

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ I got a few anonymous valentines the last couple years b’fore college, but that’s about it. 

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ What, y’mean chasin’ someone I can’t have, or not lettin’ m’self go for someone I coulda? Like that? *thinks for a moment* No, I haven’t.

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ Love, definitely.

lemonade or iced tea ➔ Iced tea, but only if it’s sweet.

cats or dogs ➔ I prefer and love cats, but both are cute. *she bites her lip and smiles at some private thought or memory*

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ Just a few close friends, easier to keep up with everyone and spend time together that way. 

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ Romantic night in, especially if cuddling’s involved. *wry smirk* Never really been one for wild nights in any form

day or night ➔ Day.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ Never really needed t’ sneak, I just let someone know where I’m off to and tried not to stay out too late. Bein’ I’m an early bird, not that hard a system to keep.

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ .*she wrinkles her nose* Up. Once.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ Not til recently

wanted to disappear ➔ No, there’s too many people in my life I care about, I’d never do that to them.

been involved in a fight you thought you couldn’t win ➔ *her eyes go dark as her gaze shifts off to the distance, one hand rubbing the side and back of her neck* Yes.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ Smile. *she cocks her head in thought* No, wait, eyes. No- *she sighs in exasperation* I like them about the same on him, both are fantastic, and I didn’t really have a preference before, so I dunno.

shorter or taller ➔ *smirk* Oh, taller. Taller’s grand.

intelligence or attraction ➔ Attraction strikes me as somewhat necessary, so I’ll say that, but there’s all kinds of intelligence, and they’re all a little attractive in their own right, yeah?

hook-up or relationship ➔ *the loose curl slides free from behind her ear and she plays with it as she answers* Relationship, I can’t do hook-ups.

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ Mum’s the only one, really, and we get along swimmingly, thanks. 

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ I wouldn’t call it that, no. Interestin’ or excitin’, sure. but not messed up. Too much good’s come out of it for that.

have you ever ran away from home ➔ No. Thought about it, but never did. An’ even thinkin’ about it was as an eight year old who didn’t want to clean her room. Didn’t go through with it b’cause there was too much I wanted t’ take with me, I couldn’t’ve carried it all. So I stayed put.

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ Nah

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ No, there’s not really anyone I hate, period. *she winces slightly* Well, maybe one, but he’s definitely not my friend and never has been.

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ I’m still workin’ on it with a couple of ‘em. *smirks* We’ll get there. though. An’ truly, I think they like me more than they’ll admit, but I’ll let them get to acknowledgin’ that on their own.

who is your best friend ➔ Probably Tina, I suppose? Would be her, hands down, but Felix an’ I bonded thick as thieves, so I feel I’m at least as close with him now.

who knows everything about you ➔ I don’t think any one person know everything, except maybe Mum?

[lafeae]

Prompt: Broken Nose

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Characters: Kaiba Seto, Jounouchi Katsuya/Joey Wheeler

For: @badthingshappenbingo

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

When Jounouchi got home after the sunset, the laundry wasn’t done. A single light made it cast a long shadow in the living room, still laying in the middle of the floor where he left it.

Sighing, he began to pick up the pieces of the bowl still scattered in the doorway, and wondered briefly if he should try and patch the hole in the wall. Why bother. The place was old and moth eaten anyways.

The apartment was still and quiet, save for the hum of the neighbour’s window air conditioner. He could almost imagine it being cool as he peeled his work uniform from his skin and laid down on the futon.

“Shoulda bought the fan...”he murmured, but at least his stomach was full. The food won him over. Besides, it was hard to concentrate on anything: the heat, his stomach, sleep, or the blank period of time he spent lying in bed thumbing through textbooks and cramming for exams he was fairly confident he wasn’t going to pass. That was just the nature of his operation; he was better suited for a factory job, or being a professional Magic and Wizards player.

Not even that daydream could escape the fact that Kaiba was on the brain. Specifically, how to talk to Kaiba, other than their annoying passing remarks. They sat next to each other—they didn’t have to pass notes.

Where the hell did he start?

‘Oi, Kaiba, your dad as messed up as mine?’ No, too forward.

‘So, guess workin’ guys got to stick together!’ Yeah right.

Maybe something a little less focused. Just a ‘hey’ and a ‘what’s up’.

All too informal for moneybags, but all they had to bond over was the shirt and their shared forbidden zone. Not really typical, or light, topics of conversation.

He dozed off mid-muse, with Kaiba heavy on the brain.

—

For once, Jounouchi slipped into class just on time, nodding and waving to Honda and Yuugi as he sat down.

He laid out his book and pen knowing full well his face would be in its spine before long. Before he had the chance, Kaiba remarked:

“You do know what time class starts.”

“Miracles happen.”

“Hn.”

There was brief moment that Jounouchi thought that he and the prick—was he really a prick anymore?—could have a dialogue. It was easy if Kaiba started it, too, because Jounouchi could never tell when Kaiba was willing to talk, even if he was being hateful or quippy. The man had the emotional range of a hard boiled egg, and the boredom in his eyes showed. For being a good student, Jounouchi highly suspected that absolutely nothing was being learned, given how Kaiba rarely turned the pages or wrote things down. The brief moment was lost as soon as it started.

“So uh, what’s the detergent you used on the shirt?”

Kaiba side-eyed him and sneered. Yeah, that was a glorious way to start a conversation.

Getting Kaiba to talk probably wasn’t going to happen.

That didn’t stop Jounouchi. He was nothing if not persistent and hard-headed. He figured as long as Kaiba didn’t deny him outright, or make threats, all conversations were fair game. The executive had invited him back to estate, even if it was just to deliver laundry which he swore he would do. He would have to.

His efforts were usually between classes, waiting for the next teacher to arrive, and while they were small, he found that asking less specific questions garnered more responses. Nothing too cerebral.

“So why ya bring your laptop everyday?”

“Work.”

“Well, yeah. But whatcha gettin’ done at lunch that can’t wait like, three hours?”

“International companies don’t sleep,” Kaiba explained. Jounouchi’s mouth formed an ‘o’, and he nodded in semi-understanding, though he was almost more grateful that Kaiba replied at all. Somewhere in the back of his head he thought it was because, maybe, they were talking about Kaiba. A selfish topic for a selfish teenager. But for this experiment, he knew he couldn’t think that way. The clean shirt he had tucked into his trousers said Kaiba was capable of altruism somewhere, under the right circumstances.

“Do you sleep?” Jounouchi asked.

“Enough.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jounouchi replied, laughing nervously. When Kaiba looked his way, he rubbed the back of his neck and ruffled his hair. “Sometimes I get off at like, I dunno, 9 or 10. Which isn’t bad. Ride home’s like a half-hour, but then Wakuba-sensai always gives us long lit essays an’ I jus’,” he let his lips loosely flap, imitating snoring while still chuckling to himself. His knees were knocking together between the desk, only stopped by one foot stepping on top of the other. “Ya know?”

“No.”

Kaiba was staring again. Not just Kaiba, but the range of other students a that encircled them. The classroom had gone deathly quiet, and Jounouchi flattened against his desk.

“The hell ya all starin’ at!” Jounouchi shouted.

They turned away. Kaiba was back to leaning on his fist and looking bored to his notebook, but Jounouchi was sure he caught a quick glance and small smile.

—

It was wash, rinse, repeat for five days. All of Jounouchi’s attempts between class were small. Simple conversation on sometimes ridiculous topics, because there was something fascinating about Kaiba’s face screwing in confusion.

Kaiba had a face full of childish wonder. When he wasn’t brooding or bored or focused, he retained an innocent look; wide eyes, long cheeks in his quickly hidden slackjaw, and a cute (Jounouchi couldn’t find a better word) nose that would turn red as he tried to decipher what gibberish Jounouchi had spouted.

For the life of him, Jounouchi couldn’t decide what he was doing that was any different from Yuugi’s attempts at befriending Kaiba. Maybe because he wasn’t so much befriending Kaiba as much as he was being curious. It wasn’t like Kaiba was always open. Most questions were shot down with acerbic comments or flat-out ignored; it just took the right ones, the off-guard ones, that by no means said Jounouchi was really interested in friendship, because he wasn’t. He was more or less interested in cracking the Kaiba Seto code. Friendship, whatever that meant to Kaiba, would have been accidental by-product and probably unspoken or denied.

Which meant it was easier not to get his friends involved.

Yuugi would have been gung-ho to allow Kaiba into their group at lunch, which Jounouchi had considered plenty of times as he stumbled to his seat. But it wasn’t really Yuugi. It was Anzu and her little comments of being “creeped out” by Kaiba’s stares at Jounouchi, or Honda’s egging to just go up to Kaiba and do something about the intimidating stares, or Ryou’s comments muttered into his thighs.

Still, he considered it every day.

“Yo, moneybags,” he called as he walked up, carefully moving around other students. Kaiba’s head raised an inch. Jounouchi swallowed hard and his guts clenched. Instead of words, he nodded towards their table.

Before he could get a response, someone barrelled full force into him, knocking his tray up into his chest and spilling food down the front of his shirt. He froze, with the entire lunchroom staring at him as he shivered.

“Oh Jou-kun, jeez, I’m sorry...I...”

Jounouchi’s eyes squeezed closed. “Nah, man, it’s a’right.”

It was more about what the food cost, Jounouchi thought for a second. It wasn’t often he actually bought his lunch. Today, he had felt like he earned it after having the pleasure of cleaning up the Old Man’s mess and had cut his palm open on a liquor bottle fragment. But no, it wasn’t really that. It was that Kaiba had seen it and promptly left.

—

The shirt was ruined. Not that most of his clothes weren’t for not having been washed for close to two weeks.

When he dressed out for gym he was thankful it wasn’t Kaiba’s shirt. He’d changed out of that after the third day, when the bath soap smell went away. It was the shirt that Kaiba had washed for him. Now, it unfortunately smelt like some teriyaki mess crossed with the lilac-lavender.

Gym was probably the only time he and Kaiba didn’t talk. They were too busy jabbing at each other over tennis, even when they weren’t playing one another.

The coach was merciful and had them rotate partners, though he and Kaiba always seemed to face each other at least once, which meant that he was sweat-soaked and frustrated from chasing the ball.

“Go on, mutt, it’s natural instinct!”

“Piss off, ya ain’t funny,” he chuckled.

But Kaiba laughed full-belly. Not quite as maniacal as in the past, but Jounouchi was sure he could have lobbed the ball into Kaiba’s mouth if he tried hard enough.

There definitely wasn’t much friendship going on between them. It was more like a symbiosis of misery over some weird, backwards empathy or sympathy, he still hadn’t decided which yet. Jounouchi was a chew toy that bit back, and it was kind of fun in the weirdest way possible. Weird for the weirdo, who would have thought?

Jounouchi liked hearing Kaiba laugh, though. It was passionate and raw. A small side of his strange dual personality. A part that was hidden like the innocent confusion.

Maybe Jounouchi was being soft. When Kaiba arched his back and legs to serve, he did look at Kaiba’s abdomen. Milky white, taut, swirling around a small belly-button with just a small touch of hair where his short would slip down at the arc of the serve. It almost made his taunting worth it every time Jounouchi missed, and the ball hit the back wall.

But he wasn’t as interested on Friday. Drove down by the oppressive heat, the lack of sleep, and the pain in his palm every time his racket made contact with the ball. He was tired and ready to leave.

Spending a few useless hours at Yuugi’s going over flash cards and mock exams while they nibbled on snacks sounded appealing. Very appealing. More appealing than getting a few seconds to stare at Kaiba’s washboard abs and sweat-flushed cheeks, but mainly because they would eventually ended up playing a video-game. Yeah, that sounded nice.

Jounouchi snorted and hit the ball. It had become a little easier to lob the ball back, even if Kaiba served it ninety miles an hour on a backspin. He’d learned enough pattern to slide into the hit.

“I didn’t think old dogs learned new tricks,” Kaiba quipped.

“Surprise, surprise.”

“Might actually be a challenge.” The ball barrelled back at him. “Not.”

“I’ve had some practice.”

“Oh? On who?” Kaiba asked.

A heavy grunt as Jounouchi hit it barely over the net. “Got a face in mind.”

Kaiba spiked the ball back. “Heh. I have a few guesses.”

There it was, that subtle empathy, that little look of curiosity coupled with a smirk that came off as condescending to others. Slowly, Jounouchi was beginning to deconstruct it.

Weakly, the ball hit the net before flopping back towards Jounouchi’s feet. He served it, loosely gripping his racket and sending the ball into the net. He wasn’t even keeping score. 45-0 probably. Or maybe they were on the next match. Kaiba told him but he wasn’t listening.

“Please, mutt, you’re wasting my time.”

“Now or always?”

Kaiba didn’t respond. Which was normal, because moneybag didn’t reply to a lot of things, but Jounouchi had figured out that his silences were their own communication. Words without words, and it hurt. ‘Yes’ would have hit him with so much less frustration.

The ball fired at him like a bullet, and Jounouchi double-handed the racket to hit it back.

This was an actual match. Back and forth, running until his lungs felt like they were bleeding and he was sure his palm actually was. Because fuck it, Kaiba was still a prick, a weirdo, an asshole who was pretty damn happy making sure people who just how much he didn’t like or need them for anything. They were obstacles, that was it.

Well, Jounouchi would be a damned obstacle.

He kept up with Kaiba until his arms and elbows ached. Maybe Kaiba would actually lighten the hell up if he was able to keep pace. That’s all he wanted. Whatever that casual, calm look he got when things were his way or in his favour, waving his magnanimousness around when it suited him.

The ball bounced out of bounds, and Jounouchi hung his head. He squeezed the semi-wet racket, not bothering to look if it was sweat or blood.

“What, you give up?”

“Zip it!”

Kaiba’s lip curled. He followed Jounouchi’s trek to the ball like the camera that had checked Jounouchi at the gate.

“When did it happen?” Kaiba asked, nodding towards the bloody racket handle.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Jounouchi’s heart throbbed in frustration, and he bounced the ball several times while refusing to look at Kaiba drilling a hole in the side of his head. Now he wanted to ask? Whatever.

When he went to serve, he caught a strange, resigned look hooded in Kaiba’s eyes, but it was too late. All of his embarrassment, his annoyance, his frustration went into the contact of racket to ball.

It wasn’t Kaiba, he thought as the ball ripped through through air.

Kaiba was something to take his anger out on. Just like the kids he used to pummel. They were distractions, easy targets, prey. He’d loosened up with Yuugi, who sort of got it, who supported him but didn’t ask questions and let him stay over when things got a little too overwhelming.

If he thought for half a second, he knew Kaiba was just Kaiba. Doomed to be a prick; he was forged by his unmentioned, screwed up raise, same as Jounouchi. Two personalities walking parallel on the same path. And it made him so easy to target. To challenge. To be a mirror.

Right up until the tennis ball smashed him in the face.

Jounouchi didn’t know if Kaiba reacted or not. He only saw the racket slipping out of his hand and clattering on the ground, echoing across the gymnasium as the last of the tennis balls bounded to a stop. Not even a murmur, though every last eye was on them.

Kaiba gripped his face, and blood spackled the floor in fat, red drops that slipped between his fingers. He squatted down on curled his face close to his knees.

Shit.

Sprinting to Kaiba, Jounouchi knelt beside him and slung an arm over his shoulders. Gently, he urged Kaiba to pull his hands away to look at the damage. When he wouldn’t, Jounouchi tore of his gym shirt and offered it for cover, pressing it into Kaiba’s hands.

Kaiba gasped at the touch, and shoved Jounouchi to the floor while greedily pressing it to his cheeks. His eyes flicked to Jounouchi, pained and innocently confused, while he sucked in muffled, panted breaths and attempted to stand up.

“Kaib’ you—“

“Save it.”

Jounouchi stared at Kaiba’s knobby knees in a daze, a single blood drop trailing down his shin. The coach jogged over and began to guide Kaiba away.

“I’m sorry!” Jounouchi shouted. The room went still again. Even Kaiba stopped, half-turning to look back. “I’m sorry. Really, it was an accident, I didn’t mean t’ do it. It jus’...”

The shirt dropped long for Jounouchi to see the medley of colours blossoming across the now strange new angle of Kaiba’s nose, mostly covered in globs of blood and snot. There was never a hint of defeat in his face, but something indecipherable, something that stung Jounouchi’s heart as he jaw ticked and continued to walk away.

“Fuck...”

Jounouchi could forget figuring Kaiba out, or whatever the hell he was doing. None of this made any sense to begin with. It was just confusing, embarrassing, humiliating. What was he thinking?

Kaiba would kill him. No, not kill. That was too kind. Sue probably, though Kaiba’s pocket lint was probably worth more. Make an example out of. Shun, somehow worse than before. Which meant no more casual glances or creepy stares or magnanimous gestures.

Somehow, he’d managed to hurt the only person who he was honest and willing to share with, who he thought he might have been able to have a heart-to-heart with. Or more, whatever more was.

Love, probably.

Not that he knew a thing about it. Not that it mattered anymore. Better to fuck it up before it got too far and either of them fooled themselves in thinking there was actually something going on.

That didn’t make his heart hurt any less.

[compunctionjunction]

70 horrible questions

I was tagged by the lovely @1of1prism thank u my guy <3

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Maybe better than some people but probably also worse than a lot of people lol. Sometimes I go to people’s houses and I’m like ???what is this “communication”. Also depends on the day and parent. i have an entire tag devoted to my dad lol

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? I dunno probs my mom or one of my friends 

03: Do you regret anything? Lots

04: Are you insecure? "My insecurities have insecurities” tho tbh i’m gettin pretty good. 

05: What is your relationship status? Single and not ready to mingle

06: How do you want to die? in control and ready 2 go

07: What did you last eat? cream of chicken soup... chocolate frozen yogurt... caramel pudding....... I just had my wisdom teeth out.......give me real food......

08: Played any sports? Never, in my life. The audacity.

09: Do you bite your nails? Ahuh! Sometimes!

10: When was your last physical fight? ive never been in a 2-way fight but the most recent 1-sided one was probs in gr 6 when one of my friends (aha) dragged me across the classroom by my hair lol

11: Do you like someone? No :\

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? try 72 hon

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? lol trump (im not changing ur answer sophie cause its accurate lol) also anyone who aligns w him and rn all the conservative MPs for being dicks and a lot more I’m full of hatred rn 

14: Do you miss someone? i miss being able to eat real 

15: Have any pets? my sister has 2 ferrets :\ but she moved out so no

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? my face hurts

17: Ever made out in the bathroom? made out a cheque to my haters (just kidding i have no money and no haters i just was trying to be funny. im sorry. i need humour right now.)

18: Are you scared of spiders? i mean i think it depends on how dark it is and how big the spider is tbh 

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? i dunno i’ll need an informed consent form

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? :\ 

21: What are your plans for this weekend? first i gotta recover and then i gotta finish like 5 papers and hang with people and have a sleepover and hang with more ppl and watch a bunch of tv

22: Do you want to have kids? How many? I want to give birth to 0 kids tho I am still undecided on adoption etc. I’d probs be a rly good godmother tho like im just sayin. @1of1prism @purewhiteflames​ ;)) 

23: Do you have piercings? How many? no piercings as of yet tho i wanna get my ears pierced i think. but my dad disapproves of anything like that so i’d probs have to wait to either move out or be financially independent lol

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? rn? english, women and gender studies, most things involving research-based papers where i have free reign over the topic 

25: Do you miss anyone from your past? lotsa ppl tbh

26: What are you craving right now? food........that i can eat........ chickenmelts........hamburgers......pizza........pasta......... :’(

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? prob lol but do i care

28: Have you ever been cheated on? we’ve all been cheated on.......by the system.....

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? that would require having one

30: What’s irritating you right now? my goddamn jaw and people eating food I can’t eat in front of me. my parents had mcdonalds yesterday. you know what i had. a milkshake. my sister brought home bacon wrapped scallops. I haven’t had scallops in like 2 years cause they’ve doubled in price and the one time we have scallops let alone frickin bacon wrapped scallops (like what the hell what kinda fancyass lunch) I cant FRICKIN eat it. Oh but I can smell it. I can hear u crunching on these foods. “Mmmmm!” ya shut up.

31: Does somebody love you? Do you know how popular I am? I am soooo popular. Everybody loves me so much at this school.

32: What is your favourite color? black and hot pink together

33: Do you have trust issues? ...........why are u asking..........what will u do with that info.......

34: Who/what was your last dream about? NO FREAKING JOKE!!!!!! i HAD A FRICKIN DREAM WHERE DANNY DEVITO CAME TO MY HOUSE WITH THIS LADY AND THEY TRIED TO BUY MY HOUSE AND MY MOM WAS LIKE “no..” AND THEY WERE SO MAD AND DANNY DEVITO TRIED TO STEAL THE HOUSE KEYS BUT I CAUGHT HIM JUST IN TIME like what kinda fake tumblr text post but it’s real i really dreamed that. I honestly can’t believe it. I would doubt it myself except I told someone abt it right away when I woke up. so now i will never forget.

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? my mom and this nurse because I woke up in a cot after being high on laughing gas and some other drug and steroids so not only did I wake up and I didn’t know where I was and no one was there and there was like an hour gap in my consciousness but I was coming off a high LOL

36: Do you give out second chances too easily? definitely not lol I give 2nd chances on rare occasions but as a general rule if u break my trust I won’t trust u in the same way again lol “trust is like a mirror. u can fix it if it’s broke. but u can still see the crack in that mother fucker’s reflection”

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? hmmmmmmmmmmmmm forgive i guess

38: Is this year the best year of your life? well not politically or in a global sense but in terms of like self-growth and stuff I’m doing pretty well so far I’m doin pretty good. workin hard... having fun.. loving myself.. 

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? i have never in my life sullied my lips with someone else’s bacteria-laden lips

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? n.........o

51: Favourite food? chicken pasta alfredo, chicken pie, chicken vol au vents, chickenmelts, eggs benedict, um, double chocolate fudge tart from dufflet... hmm, Sophie’s dad’s lasagna and also pasta al fuerno or whatever that’s called like yum, uh.. it’s really easy to list these off when i CAN’T HAVE ANY OF THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also poutine, and I also rly like Subway (ham and cheese on italian herbs and cheese bread with lettuce, onion, pickles, and mayonaisse, toasted...) 

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? kind of but I tried to explain it to someone once and they were like ??????what ur saying makes no sense and contradicts itself and i was like ya probably lol

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? watched a bad tv show my parents were watching and drank a giant mcdonalds milkshake and iced my face

54: Is cheating ever okay? honestly who am i to judge ur relationship and forgiveness and stuff but like imo if someone cheats on u they don’t respect u as an equal in that relationship or probably as a human

55: Are you mean? i can be a bit of a dick tbh but most of the time when i say something mean in my head im like “why is my mouth saying//why are my fingers typing these horrible ass things??”

56: How many people have you fist fought? well ive never used my fists on anyone but 2 people have punched me in the stomach does that count lol

57: Do you believe in true love? at the same time, i wanna hug you, i wanna wrap my hands around your neck, you’re an asshole, but i love you... so much i think it must be true love, true love. it must be tru-e love, no one else could break my heart like yo-o-o-o-o-o. yo-o-o-o-oh, oh-o-o-oh (No)

58: Favourite weather? either when its foggy and tranquil or when its like 23-25 degrees and sunny but also there’s some clouds so it’s not like direct hot sun on u but it’s still warm enough to wear shorts

59: Do you like the snow? i like when it’s snowing and quiet and peaceful and i like lying down in the snow and having that feeling of hearing everything kind of muted? but ya i hate slush and ice and stuff 

60: Do you wanna get married? not really but i might for tax benefits LOL

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? No, get that shit away from me

62: What makes you happy? lots of things especially seeing other people happy and genuine

63: Would you change your name? Maybe tbh it’s something i’m thinking abt right now cause I’m not a super fan of my name but maybe not officially and I also don’t wanna start shit with my fam I think my mom would be upset lol 

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? ya cause they don’t exist lol

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? well thats nice cause I like him too but what’s with this “opposite sex” bs like i know what u mean but like 

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? like seriously it’s not a real thing sex and gender are both constructs it’s a spectrum, a range. my buddy. pal. listen. (also ya i like to think anyone in our friend group but like probs john cause I can be scathing with those guys but as if i’d ever be vulnerable around them LOL)

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? like ur gonna keep going with this. ur gonna keep doing this. thats fine. but i can give u some reading. like i have all these pdfs if ur interested. no joke. and if pdfs are unaccessible to u i also have a bunch of youtube links. like hon. (my dad)

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? wow i dont even know if i can tag u back @1of1prism cause if im being honest i think it was @purewhiteflames oops, yikes!!!

69: Do you believe in soulmates? no but i do think there are people that u are much more compatible with than other people

70: Is there anyone you would die for? i dunno we’ll see if/when it happens lol

I’m not gonna put anyone else through this so you can say I tagged u if u wanna do it but like lol