#Dee picks a fight on TV | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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ıllıllı 𝙄𝙣𝙫𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 12/17: 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 3.1 - Asher, Rodriguez ıllıllı

Transcript of Event below Cut:

FERNANDA

It has been an especially bitter cold day out, and by the time everything was taken care of around the farm, no one was happier to have done everything possible to expedite the building of their indoor little oasis than Fer herself. After a long week at the office, and an even longer day out in the fields, it was going to feel so great to just jump into the warm water of the pool for a nice, relaxing swim.

Or, at least that had been the plan. She'd left Dylan downstairs as she went up to change, but as she passed the open door of Cat and Artie's room. She had to stop and double back. In the midst of the usually furry babies, there were some decidedly fur_less_ babies too. Two of which were sat between the TV stand and the bed attempting to eat the console controllers and one was holding a brush, desperately trying to reach a canvas three feet too high. "Dylan! I think I'm going to need a hand up here...or two..."

DYLAN

A day by the pool was a *fantastic* idea. Unlike the other, Dylan was not looking forward to actually getting in the pool but lounging nearby with a drink hopefully. The *children* were somewhere else, busy with ..whatever, and Dee was at the hospital. Peace and quiet was hard to come by in this household - something that Dylan learned since the first day she stepped foot to this place.

She was busying herself on her phone when she heard a call from upstairs. Even though there wasn't anyone around her, the half-demon still let out a dramatic sigh as she dragged herself upstairs at a very casual pace. "What is it, darling? It de-" She stopped at the door once she saw just what she was looking at. "...Sweetheart, since when do you smuggle babies?"

FERNANDA

No sooner had she called out to Dylan, then she'd had to rush in to catch an infant Cat -whose now much tinier legs are very much not ready to fight gravity- from crashing back down after she'd attempted to pull herself _up_ to the canvas using an easel that Fernanda was now realizing was exceedingly unsteady itself. "Whoa there, okay. Well...glad to see you're still determined to finish a piece once started," she managed as the baby used the boost to immediately get back to the canvas.

As Dylan made an appearance in the doorway, Fer let out a mirthless laugh and said, "I think _that_ would fall closer to _your_ family business, hun. _These_ babies are somehow, my cousins...and by that I don't mean that I suddenly have more cousins that happen to be infants, I mean these are the _same_ cousins you've grown to know and love, but they are _now_ infants...Oh, please gran Julian before he gets himself baby-murdered by baby-Artie!"

DYLAN

The half-demon looked over to where the baby - apparently Julian - was. Other than Fernanda, Julian had oddly been the one she got along with the most so to see him trying to wiggle away from the other infant was almost hilarious. "Isn't this just children's play?" She asked, not really want to pick him up in general but since the faerie was about to attack him, Dylan walked over to hold him up... Almost like the scene from the lion king except she didn't hold him up as high up in the air.

"They.. need better fitting clothes." Dylan had the decency to also grab the oversized shirt when picking the kid up. "As much as I would love a shopping spree - shopping for babies are not on that list."

FERNANDA

Fer watched as Dylan actually took the time to debate whether to do as asked or not, and were it not for the infant in her own arms, she may have genuinely considered grown-up-murder herself. Instead she walked over and crouched down so she could scoop up Artie herself. As she stood back up she looked at Dylan and said, "Okay, first off, please hold my cousin properly. Considering you've managed to convince him you care, I know you can mimic things well enough to do as I'm doing with the girls. Second, you either join in on the baby shopping spree _or_ you get to stay here and watch them on your own as _I_ go on the shopping spree myself. And no, me heading out to the shops with three infants by myself is not one of the options."

DYLAN

"...You want me to.. do what?" She looked up with wide eyes, genuinely alarmed by the notion. "Darling, he's not my type - and definitely not at this age." She joked as she looked at the baby in her hands. This distance between them was already enough yet the mermaid wanted her to carry him *closer*? "You oddly have some sense of faith in me handling your relatives..." Dylan muttered to herself. First she brought her to the farm itself, and allowed her to stick around. Now she was expected to be careful with Julian. Damien would have a day with this if he witnessed this.

"I am not watching three babies alone - along with 3 furries." This is at least the one thing she's adamant about. She was hardly a babysitter. "So very well, I suppose I can tag along.. your shopping spree." She sighed dramatically as she carefully turned the baby around. A very uncomfortable groan came from the half-demon herself as she bundled up the baby more tightly in his now-oversized shirt and cradled him.

FERNANDA

"I find it hard to believe that anything would be your type, regardless of age, but for the record, such jokes would likely get you thrown into a jail cell faster than you can say 'No _Karen_, I didn't mean it'," Fer pointed out, already making her way back down stairs. Setting the girls down on the living room floor, she went into the kitchen and came back with three plastic grocery bags and a roll of paper towels. "Sorry love, but we'll have to improvise until after we get done shopping. Can't risk you peeing all over an already easily irritable half-demon in the backseat of my car," she whispered as she fashioned temporary diapers for them.

Turning and wordlessly taking Julian from Dylan so she could do the same with him, she then handed him back and proceeded to guide them all to her car. She was certain the backseat was not Dylan's first choice, but she was hardly in the mood to care. The drive to the nearest store that would have everything they would need was longer than she'd like, but it would make for one stop shopping. Opening the back door again, she said, "Alright, Luke was nice enough to post a list of essentials in the group chat, so this shouldn't take long. Please refrain from sneaking things into the cart...I mean _you_," she added looking at Dylan.

DYLAN

She frowned when Fernanda actually said that it was hard to believe that anyone would be her type - Had she not notice all her flirting attempts? Then the half-demon wondered if she was losing her touch because she had been turned down almost every time by the mermaid herself. Actually stunned to silence, Dylan blinked and before she knew it, they were at the store.

"Darling, please. What could I possibly sneak into the cart? The good drinks can't even be *found* here, much to my dismay." She looked down at Julian next to her. "I suppose I could get the carts." Dylan slipped out of the car and scurried off to fetch them the cart. Coming back with it, she never wished more than to have some sort of power that could float the babies into the cart without her carrying them.. "In you go." She quickly grabbed Julian, not wanting Fernanda to scold her again. "...Do they all fit in this seat?" She had a feeling that she really did need to carry one of them, and already she was not looking forward to it.

Dyl paused at Dylan's question and looked from her to the cart and back. As clearly that was getting her nowhere, she added, "Well, there are _two_ baby carriers in the cart, and there are _three_ babies in our care. I know you're mainly meant to be the face of your company and are used to paying people to do the math, but surely even _you_ can figure this one."

Turning to close the door, she looked back over with Artie already on her own hip and stated, "I'll spare you and carry the Artie myself. Now let's get a move on. If Aunt D comes home to three babies with fevers because we brought them outside in less than appropriate attire for a Pennsylvania winter, she'll kill us both."

It had taken the better part of an hour, but they were finally making their way back in through the front door, Fer balancing two babies and several bags, with Dylan being trusted with the third baby and the rest...the mermaid dare not look behind her to actually witness _how_ the woman was managing that. "Just drop the bags wherever, but _please_ do not drop the baby."

DYLAN

For someone who had been very reluctant to do anything related to this baby situation, she was faring pretty well with Julian and the other half of bags from shopping. Once she did drop the bags down, she walked into the living room and collapsed - carefully - with Julian onto the couch when a ping sounded off from her phone.

Reaching for it, she only bothered to see the preview on the lockpage. A message from Nox in their group chat with the words. "DYLAN HAS A BABY. -Image" The half-demon did not want to deal with him right now, nor think about what Damien probably thought about all this and therefore, tossed her phone onto the coffee table.

"Carrying your cousin is not quite the exercise I expected today." She sighed, "I need a drink." The baby beside her let out a sound, "I think Julian agrees with me, darling."

Dyl set the girls down on the carpet and immediately went about sorting the contents of their purchases. Once done, she picked out a onesie for each baby and then set a fresh diaper on each.

By the time Dylan spoke up again, she was already turning on her knees to finish up her assembly line of sorts with her youngest cousin. Looking at the boy gave her brief glimpse at what her own child might look like and the mermaid found herself momentarily overcome by the thought.

Shaking herself out of it, she took the baby and began to work as she said, “If you manage to get me three bottles mixed up, I’ll mix _you_ up the best three drinks of your choosing once the babies are down.”

DYLAN

The half-demon just watched as the mermaid skilfully prep everything, ready to change all her cousins. She never had to deal with babies - and definitely didn't have any family members who suddenly turned into babies, but Dylan couldn't help but wonder what would happen if either Damien or her happen to get this.. misfortune. Probably hire a nanny.

Her eyes snapped to Fernanda at the mention of drinks. "Best drinks, are they?" She hummed. To think the other was trying to bribe her, but considering how stressed out she looked, Dylan decided to play nice. "Very well, I have high expectations for those drinks." She got up and grabbed a bag to go into the kitchen. You best believe she googled how to mix three bottles up.

Dyle only ever stocks up on the best when it comes to liquor. It's her little indulgence and she apparently put herself through her nursing degree by bartending so..." she shared as she got Julian properly dressed, and then set him off to go join the girls causing the poor ferret to lose its little mind.

By the time Dylan came back with the bottles, all three babies were rubbing at their faces and starting to get fussy, so she settled them into a carrier each and then handed them the bottles. She pointed at Julian's carrier and said, "Gently rock it, like this." Demonstrating the action, Fer hoped the babies would be out soon enough.

DYLAN

"So all I'm hearing is that *Dee* is guaranteed to make a good drink." When Dylan got sent to get the bottles ready, she just stared at her phone for the longest time. Surely making three bottles shouldn't be too hard. The fact that she was even going along with all of this was almost comical. Even after the mermaid passed them to the baby, she was actually.. worried. They were Fernanda's relatives after all ... and Julian might have been growing a bit on her.

"...Should we get you some of those automated rocking ones?" Dylan already pulled out her phone and started searching up options and she did not care if this was only a temporary thing. Manually rocking them when there's three of them didn't seem... fun especially when the tiniest one looked like she was about to cry.

FERNANDA

"Manage to get on her good side, and you _might_ just get a chance to find out," Fer shot back, without even bothering to turn in the other woman's direction. Just the fact that Dylan hadn't immediately peaced out on her the second she saw the babies, had more than earned the woman a spot on Fer's own good side. She highly doubted she'd have been able to manage three babies on her own, with zero tools. At least now she had some basic supplies, including formula, bottles, and binkies to keep them pacified..._oh_, that's why they were called pacifiers...

The question had her glancing over, just in time to see that Dylan was already managing to multitask by rocking Julian and looking up the items on her phone. It was a good thing the demon was invested in her search or else she might've spotted a rather soft look being sent her way that may well scare her off before the babies were actually asleep. And the mermaid couldn't afford that. Get a hold of herself she replied, "That was the idea, but the store we went to didn't have any inniño es una canción infantil para dormir de #LeoncitoAlado que a los niños les encanta. Espero que la disfruten, la hicimos con mucho cariño. Si te gustó te pedimos dar LIKE, SUSCRIBIRTE o dejar tu COMENTARIO. ¡Muchas gracias!

DYLAN

The half-demon hummed a response to the store not having any because she just saw one that looked decent enough - it looked like it'd do the job and with how fussy Fernanda already was with the baby, Dylan made sure that it looked safe enough - not that she would ever buy anything that lacked in quality. "Okay, I got three, should be here soon." She shot a quick message to Dallas to get her to pick these up. "And relax, these got like a bunch of safety awards, reviews and whatnot." She rolled her eyes, "These -" She held her tongue from describing the family as 'gremlins' "kids won't die from them. Scouts honor or whatever."

She let out a sigh and almost grimaced at the site of the teeny one who was toeing the line between wanting to cry and holding it in. "Oh lord." She muttered under her breath and was very relieved to see the one she was rocking already sound asleep.

Dyl you didn’t have to do all that,” she replied in earnest. “You could’ve just sent me the link and I’d have gotten it sorted with Dee later. It’s already very kind of you to have stuck around to help. I’m sure this is hardly how you foresaw your evening going,” she added with a slight chuckle. A more mirthful chuckle followed after as she said, “I would never dare expect Dylan Waldorf to pay anything below quality standards.” Granted she would never expect Dylan to do quite a list of things she’d done tonight already.

The blonde continued her singing and rocking up until she was certain that both girls had caught up to Julian and were actually asleep. It was only as she sat back that her brain had enough bandwidth to be self-conscious. “Sorry,” she whispered, “Julian’s mom used to sing it to us, and it was the first thing that came to mind.”

DALLAS

She didn't know what to expect when Dylan told her that she'd be working for her since she wasn't going back to the DJ booth anytime soon. Picking three automated baby bouncers were *not* one of them. Especially since she didn't even know Dylan had three kids - and she surely wasn't a charitable person if it was anyone else.

Thankfully her sister came with her because how was she supposed to get three boxes to a location *just* so she could teleport them to wherever Dylan was.... which was the farmhouse for some reason.

"Um.. we have your ..bouncers." She knew there'd be kids.. but seeing Dylan and them in the same room was .. bizarre.

FERNANDA

The mermaid was startled by the sudden sound of a new voice, but she managed to keep herself in check long enough to gesture for the newly arrived pair to keep their voices down. "I didn't realize that Amazon now offered same _hour_ delivery," she whispered, as she stood and led the girls away from the now sleeping babies.

Once a fair distance away, in the kitchen, she sighed in relief and then gave the girls an appreciative look. "Thank you, for being so quick. Honestly, this probably could've waited until morning but _someone_ is clearly terrified of having to physically rock a baby anytime soon. Fingers crossed, and they'll sleep through the night anyway because we still have to actually assemble these, and I owe Dylan some drinks."

DYLAN

She rolled her eyes as she followed, "Darling, please - they needed to be here asap. Who knows when your cousins will wake up." She took a look at the boxes, "Luck has nothing to do with it. Dallas can get those sorted out." She paused, "And if her sister's willing to help out, then you're more than welcome to. Oh, set up the baby monitors too."

"And yes, the drinks you promised." If they were alone, Dylan wouldn't care about looking giddy at the thought because she was going to be served drinks personally by Fernanda herself. Her eyes flickered to the mermaid once she realised that she was actually looking forward to something simple like this.

Dylt had started as a simple night in, had turned into quite the _task_ once their father had decided that completing Dallas' delivery would make for 'great bonding'. She said nothing as her twin led the way back over to the living room and the women were left to their own devices behind them. Using her powers, she made quick work of the packaging on all the items....granted, that also kind of took with it the instructions, so they spent some time hunting that down online.

They were half-way through the last rocker when -and who knew how many random whispered conversations- when a question dawned on her. "Hey, do you think this was an isolated incident to just the merkids or do you think it affected others?"

DALLAS

Dallas really dread getting a message from Dylan most of the time simply because they were usually a delivery run. The woman could not wait for more than a day whenever she purchased anything and this time was no different. However, these automatic baby... seats were not what she expected from the woman.

She also didn't expect that Kala and her would spend so much time hunting down the set up instructions for said chairs. As she moved the last rocker to a suitable spot, the older twin looked over to her sister at the question, "...Do you think her friends are also affected..?" Which meant... there was a chance that Tomi might be a baby... "Should you check..? I mean, you're babysitting one of them..."

DALLAS

Almost as if on queue, her forearm burned slightly and as she rolled up her sleeve and pressed the index and middle finger of her opposite hand over the enchanted ink, she received the details she was looking for. "Message from my boss, apparently the firefighter paladin looped her in to the fact there was a mishap with the runes of the wards on the Nexus. So seemingly every supernatural under a certain age has reverted. Considering Cat is twenty and we're twenty-two, I'm guessing it tops off at twenty....no idea how long this will last though."

It took her a minute to catch up the last bit her sister had said, so as she was mid-way to setting up the baby monitors, she looked up with a look of incredulity as she asked, "You don't reckon Leo would still make me watch Peyton if she's a baby right? Like, her parents aren't going to be letting a baby loose around town....right?"

DALLAS

She tried to let that information sink in. To think there was an age limit.. or maybe they fixed whatever mishap that was before it affected more people... Either way, Dallas frowned, "..Lucky us, I guess?" Turning into a baby and forgetting about adult problems seems appealing, but people might frown at that train of thought.

"...I don't know about letting a baby loose, but maybe they'll need you to look after the kids if they need to step away for a bit..?" She shrugged, "...I hope Dylan is going to get me to babysit.. simply because she doesn't want to." Her eyes rolled. She also heard that the demon had been spending most of her time at the farmhouse.... surely the oldest mermaid had something to do with that. "...Although I think we're sorta their temporary baby monitors right now..."

KALA

“There’s no telling what the after effects of this may be, how long it will last, what we would remember as babies or what we would remember about _being_ babies when it goes back…With that many variables, I’d say the sarcasm can be saved for later because we dodged a major bullet,” she pointed out. As someone who was always fiercely independent, nothing would be worse than being made reliant on other people for _everything_.

Kala shook her head as she said, “Nope. Not happening. I’m a guild member not a nanny. Besides, between the lot of them I’m sure they could all comfortably come with some arrangement amongst themselves for getting babies watched if they want a free night or whatever,” she pointed out before glancing over at the older women. “Granted, _your_ boss may volunteer you just to guarantee she gets more baby-free time with the mermaid.”

DALLAS

Kala did have a point. There was a lot of unknown anomalies and they couldn't really rule out the chance that they might still change later. Maybe the older you were, the longer it took for the magic to.... hit you. "Aren't you curious about how everyone looked as a baby?"

The dj smirked when her sister was very adamant about *not* being anyone's nanny. "Maybe Peyton might be the quietest she's ever been?" If she had to guess, it really did seem that the cat shifter was growing on Kala. However, even Dallas wasn't dumb enough to actually point that out. At the topic of her own boss however, had her rolling her eyes. "I'm surprised she's even sticking around one, much less *three*. She's really got a thing for Fernanda.."

DALLAS

“If I ever did have such a curiosity, I’d simply ask to see a baby picture. That being said, do I strike you as the type of person to be interested enough in other people to ask for such things?“ It was a rhetorical question. Of course she didn’t ask. If push came to shove, she’d just use her guild resources to get what she needed.

Kala found that exceedingly unlikely. It was hard enough to get the girl to be quiet at an age where she was mostly self-sufficient. Very unlikely she would be quiet now that she would require someone’s help for _everything_. “Somehow, doubtful, and I don’t do well with crying things. Babies, adults, pets, whatever.” She was surprised she’d even managed as well as she did with Dallas…Sparing another quick glance over at the duo she said, “Maybe their human halves are drawn to each other or some cosmic shit. This town is fucking weird like that.”

DALLAS

As her sister.. ranted(?), Dallas picked at the cloth of one of the rockerse they built, not really knowing what to say. Her Kala seemed very against babysitting and that was understandable. Dallas just never really saw the other rant about something. Sure, many things annoyed the other - like Peyton herself, but Kala actually sounded pissed this time even though there was actually a chance both their bosses would tell them to keep an eye on the babies.

When she was asked a question, the older twin remained quiet because it didn't feel like Kala was expecting an answer anyways. "Um.. Are you.. okay?" She asked as she stopped playing with the cloth and focused on her sister instead. "Isn't it like.. a good thing though? At least she's not really up to no good..."

DALLAS

Kala actually took a moment to consider the question before actually answering. “I guess not,” she replied honestly. “At least, not as okay as I thought I was….about a couple of things, I suppose. But this is neither the time nor place. We’re on the clock, after all.”

She wasn’t looking to outright swerve her sister, but now that she was actively thinking about it, she needed time to sort things out herself before she could share. “You think we can get in on the drinks action for our good work?”

DYLAN

She had been leaning against the kitchen island with anticipation. It was nice to hear that Fernanda didn't go back on her word. It was even better when her assistant had brought help to build those rockers so that neither of them needed to. "Darling, while Dee supposedly have good bartending skills, did she happen to pass these skills over to you?" She teased, since she was promised 'three of the best drinks'.

Though she wasn't at all listening in on the twins' conversation, the sudden words 'drinks' did catch her attention. However, she was not going to take the initiative to invite them because that would defeat having some alone time with the mermaid. "Will you be drinking with me?"

Dylle the mermaid had been honest, Dee really was the best drink mixer she’d ever met, the mermaid may have unintentionally downplayed just how well she herself had taken to the craft. Well, with some lessons of course. “I suppose you’ll have to be the judge of that yourself, as any opinion I hold of my own skills is entirely subjective.”

As she opened the liquor cabinet and began to work, she laughed lightly at the question. “I would love nothing more, but it would be highly irresponsible of me to be anything other than sober with three babies in the house,” she replied. Turning back to face the woman, she handed her a slim glass with a mint garnish and said, “We’ll start off easy with a classic mojito.”

DYLAN

Dylan playfully pouted when the mermaid didn't tell her about her own skills. However, watching Fernanda work was already impressing her. It seemed that Dee did pass down a few tricks at the very least. "We've got 2 babysitters in the room right now." Well, one who was under her brother's paycheck. "They're still on the clock and besides, I don't think a drink or two is going to hurt - or are you telling me you're a *very* lightweight?"

Her eyes looked down at the glass, and with a smirk, she picked it up and observed it. Nothing seemed out of place, it smelled as it should and so, Dylan took it to her lips. "Mm.. " She hummed as she mulled over the taste. Not wanting to give Fernanda the satisfaction right away, Dylan only shrugged, "I suppose this isn't too bad."

Dyl simply raised a brow and said, "Those two lovely ladies eventually have to go home. I know them through my cousins and Artie, and if they're not home soon their dad is likely to come looking for them. I personally do not want an angry dragon shifter at my door." At the mention of being a lightweight, Fer neither confirmed nor denied, instead stating, "You're tolerance and mine are vastly different just based on genetics alone."

Rolling her eyes at the response, she cleaned up before pouring herself a glass of water. "Well I do hope that you manage to get through it if even it's just passable, because I'm not about to be wasting Dee's liquor."

DYLAN

"Wouldn't it be fine if they tell their daddy dearest that they're staying over?" Besides, weren't the twins adults already? Dylan couldn't really picture their father being so protective of them if he knew where they were. They might not trust a Waldorf but this was the farmhouse. On the topic of their tolerance, the half-demon didn't reply since she wasn't sure how mermaids handled their alcohol.

"Relax, I'll finish the drinks - Unless you want to take a sip, because you're more than welcome to share the drink with me." And to prove it, she took the glass to her lips again. "So what will the next drinks be?" She asked while playing with the garnish.

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FERNANDA

The mermaid rolled her eyes and said, "Tell you what, if you can manage to _ask_ them nicely and they agree -of their own free will and without fear of retaliation from _you_ later- then I don't see why they can't help out for _a bit longer_." It ultimately wasn't like she was trusting the babies to strangers. There had been some friction recently with Dallas, but overall the twins had proven themselves to be trustworthy enough. Granted, she also didn't want to push her luck. Cat especially could be exceedingly wary around strangers at this age.

Fer fixed Dylan with a mock look of endearment as she said, "Aw babes, sharing the free drink _I_ mixed for you with me already? How sweet." Rolling her eyes once more, she smirked as she said, "I'll allow myself one drink, but considering I know what comes next, I think I'll hold off for a bit. As for what's on the menu, that's for me to know and you to find out once it's in your hand."

DYLAN

"Retaliation? From me? Darling I would *never*." She sighed, dropping it. "Very well, I suppose I should ask them - after the drinks." Dylan would rather hire a nanny even if the twins didn't want to stay and she somehow had a feeling that Fernanda would rather watch over the kids herself. "Should hire a nanny."

Her smirk then widened at the implication. "Oh? What comes next? Do enlighten me." She chuckled, "You *are* the barista, the strength of the drinks is your hands." While Dylan wasn't a fan of surprises, she was willing to happily sip on her drink while she waited for the upcoming ones. "It's just less fun to be drinking alone."

Dyl snorted at the mention of a nanny. "Hard pass. As someone who was practically raised by a nanny, even though I had a very present and able mother right there, I would rather keep the care of the babies mostly between myself and Dee as much as possible. There's also the fact that young Cat never did take well to strangers, so to avoid a lot of unnecessary headaches, the most I may come to consider is a babysitter. And even then it would be someone the kids already know." Her tone left no room for argument.

Fernanda simply shook her head cheekily as she continued to wait until it was time for a refill before moving on to the next drink. "Keep whining and I'll just have to pull out the bottle we got especially from the Bridgeport. Even Dylan Waldorf can't complain if she's face down on a mattress, black-out drunk."

DYLAN

She couldn't share the sentiment - though she almost grew up the same way, her fondness for children continued to cease to exist. And she will not admit that Julian as a baby... is somehow growing on her. Never. "Cat not liking strangers?" She frowned, that sounded like the opposite of the ... *very* enthusiastic girl she knew. Dylan was sure that girl would befriend the whole town if she could. Or so it seemed. "Fine... no nanny. Maybe babysitter... But I see you're very keen on personally handling this." She sighed rather dramatically, as if it was a shame they couldn't just hire someone.

"Was I whining?" She hummed as she took a long sip of her drink before peering over her glass. "Normally I would say that's a challenge, but I'm well aware on the bottles served over there. I will have to pass on that. Black out drunk doesn't seem to be a good look for me." She now looked down in her empty glass, "So what's next?"

FERNANDA

At the doubt clearly ringing in the woman's voice, Fer could only chuckle wryly as she said, "Yeah, it's a far-cry from the Cat we currently know and love, but it's far easier to try and befriend every stranger you meet when you have the proper physical ability to turn and run in the opposite direction if things go south. She always was far more conscious of how small she was when she was younger....probably because my uncle was constantly reminding her of it." The mermaid grimaced at the thought of Cat's father, before turning to face Dylan. "I think we've been working together longe enough for you to know I'm very much a fan of a hands-on approach. If you want something done right, do it yourself."

She nodded at the rhetorical question, "Quite blatantly at that." As she began to work on the next drink, she raised a brow and let out a low whistle. "Oof, sounds like you're speaking from quite some experience, Miss Waldorf. Here's to never having to be the one to deal with what sounds like _quite_ the mess," she said, handing her the next drink. "Negroni. You'll find that the _type_ of gin really does make all the difference."

DYLAN

That right there sounded like a story - but Dylan could not find it within her to ask for further details. However, if there was anything she could relate to, was that she too, had a shit father who was constantly reminding her of a flaw. "Delegating a task to another at times could still be useful - because then those hands could be used for something else entirely." The half-demon was constantly sending someone to do her bidding anyways, there were only a few things she was 'hands-on' about.

"And I expect nothing but top-notch quality." She smiled as she slid the drink closer to herself, giving it a brief observation before taking a sip from it. "It looks like Dee's collection of alcohol isn't as lacking as I thought." She had been sceptical at the beginning but Fernanda did a good job, not that she'll admit to that.

FERNANDA

Fernanda let out a low laugh as she said, “I can assure you I am far better at multitasking than I ever have been at delegating. I’d rather do one too many things and _know_ that if one fails it was in my control to have done it better, than to delegate and cede that control over to someone else entirely…I’m sure my therapist would have something to say about it, but it’s worked out for me so far.” She was intentionally oblivious to the blatant alternate meaning to the woman’s words.

Getting anything even remotely resembling praise from Dylan was a miracle in itself. That she’d gotten this far was a feat. That the woman seemed to be closing the distance between them with each drink? Completely and entirely unheard of. “Well, I did save the best for last.”

DYLAN

"You take on too much work." While she understood what the other meant since she also had a company to run, she doubt the mermaid was dumb enough not to know when one took upon too much work for herself. And so, she let the topic slide even though that was *not* the purpose of her bringing it up in the first place. It was clear Fernanda was determined to handle the babies herself anyways.

She knew this drink was already stronger than the last, but something told her that the next was going to be a lot stronger compared to this one. "Is it also the strongest out of the three?" She asked. Dylan was taking her time with the drink. Even if her tolerance was still higher than the average, it was never wise to speed through a drink.

FERNANDA

"You're not the first person to say so, but I'll fully admit you _are_ the last one I ever expected to hear it from," she chuckled. "It almost sounded like you cared there for a second, Waldorf." Fer wasn't stupid. She'd been around the woman long enough to know that sometimes shining a spotlight on a positive trait was the fastest way to make it go away. But if she was ever going to foster some sort of comfort level in Dylan with her human side and the range of emotions that came with it, highlighting the traits to let her know they were noticed and providing positive reinforcement -which in her case could vary based on the situation from actual words of affirmation to sarcasm and flirting- was the best way to go.

The mermaid just nodded as she cleaned up from the previous drink and began to get some things set up for the next. "It's an oldie, but a goodie. _And_ with my own personal twist on the mix, it's bound to make an impression. Whether good or bad will up to you to decide after."

DYLAN

"What? That you take on too much? *Please*, we get to hire people so that we can do *other* things." Her eyes rolled, "You simply just don't take advantage of that apparently. A shame really." She focused on her drink afterwards, neither admitting nor denying that she cared. Of course, this might also be the place where she'd say something snarky but instead, she enjoyed the rest of her drink while she watched the mermaid worked on the next drink. Dylan wouldn't be able tell you why she wasn't willing to push Fernanda's buttons as much as she *could*. Hell, she even let Aunt Dee kick her out without much of a fuss... and even had Julian help her be let back in.

Just thinking about it had Dylan down the last bit of her drink before sliding the empty glass off to the other. "Have you.. *tried* this personal twist before?" She laughed as she straightened up on her seat, running her bangs back from her face.

FERNANDA

A scoff of her own came out as she said, "It's called work-life balance. You do work things during work hours, and _other_ things during non-work hours. It's honestly not as difficult to manage to do, if you ever decide to give the work bit a proper go, that is." The woman's silence on the matter of caring spoke far more than the sarcastic lies she'd have actually voiced, and Fer felt herself smiling easily at the thought. It seemed that whether Dylan wanted to admit it or not, she was coming to care about the mermaid and her family by extension -to a certain degree of course- and that was honestly..._endearing_.

At the question of whether she'd tried her own twist she let out another scoff and said, "Honey it's my go-to drink." Taking the now empty glass back, she replaced it with the last drink. "A classic margarita on the rocks, with a salt rim. The twist comes in the form of specially distilled mezcal instead of tequila." She turned back to pour herself of just said mezcal. "What makes it special is it's ability to rival even Bridgeport's strongest liquor. _Salud_."

DYLAN

"I balance my time well enough." Dylan rolled her eyes with a scoff. "I'm there when it's necessary." The business was the only thing her dad had some form of expectation from her, Dylan was not going to mess that up. Maybe it was also out of spite, unwilling to allow the patriarch to find another flaw. Her eye caught the smile Fernanda had, and did not want to question that either because something told her that she didn't want to know what was so amusing.

She looked down at the new drink - suddenly very intimidated when she heard that it had an ingredient that rivalled Bridgeport's liquor. Of course, she wouldn't show that so obviously on her face. "Specially distilled Mezcal.. How intriguing." She smiled and raised it up towards the other before taking a good sip herself. Either she was very light handed with the previous two or this one was.. vastly stronger. Perhaps her brother might have an easier time with this, but Dylan had a limit unfortunately. In the end, she had to cough. "I don't suppose you poured a bit more mezcal than you normally would?"

FERNANDA

"You're there when _you_ feel it's necessary," Fer was quick to correct. "I've had plenty of conversations with your employees, and don't bother asking for names because let's be honest with ourselves, you wouldn't know who I was talking about anyway. Which incidentally, proves my point. _Although_, I will say I do appreciate the fact you've provided me with your direct line so I can reach you whether you're at the office or not. Makes a lot of things go by so much smoother." It was already a difficult task to begin the proper dissolution of the longstanding working relationship between the Rodriguez firm in the ocean and the Waldorf firm on land, but if she had any hope of legitimizing her family company, it was a necessary evil.

Taking her shot with no chaser, and then watching the face Dylan was trying -and failing- to hide, had the mermaid looking back over at the jigger when asked about amounts. "No, looks like I used the same amount I always use," she replied. "Granted, I'm usually making these for myself and not company so I may have unintentionally been a little heavy-handed."

DYLAN

"If that is all they're saying about me." Dylan did not need loose lips working in her company, whether it was on the legit side of things or not. While she wouldn't make a fuss since the people were just complaining about her absence, she was less forgiving if someone were leaking secrets instead. However, because of that, she wondered if Fernanda would actually reveal it if it did happen.

"Oh, look who's appreciative *now*?" She smirked, knowing just how annoying she had been by pestering her everytime they met. Even people at their offices were bound to be accustomed to the bantering. This mermaid had been surprising her since the day she accepted to work together. "Alas, you only make business calls on it. I'm rather hurt." Though her tone was anything but.

"I must say, I didn't think you'd drink it like water." She was impressed to say the least. Instead of commenting more on that, she focused on her drink, oddly liking it the more she drank even though she could feel her cheeks warming. "So you're saying that this is the amount you usually pour for yourself?" Very impressive.

FERNANDA

“My reputation precedes me,” she said in response. “I’m sure they know that if I took ove my family’s company _after_ they were involved with yours, I’m sure to have done my homework and already figured out what I needed to know.”

Fer only scoffed at the response. “There’s a big difference between having a means to reach you, and having you try to turn my board room into your own personal catwalk,” she shot back. The mermaid raised a brow and simply said, “What would be the point of making personal calls if you’re usually already at my house?”

She glanced at the empty shot glass and shrugged. “I suppose once grows a certain tolerance.” She would not, however, be taking a second shot. “Yes, makes for a great way to unwind after a long day of dealing with insufferable business acquaintances and such.”

DYLAN

"I think it took everyone by surprise when you decided to collaborate with my company. With how our board meetings go, we were under the impression that you wanted nothing to do with me." She pointed out with a quick glance over to the other.

The demon was well aware that she was now always found at the barn - to the point that even Nox and Damien didn't even need to ask about her whereabouts anymore. Was she spending too much time here? She never really spend the *day* at someone's house, it was usually the night so all of this was rather .. strange for her. "Isn't that to say you don't need my number in general?"

Her eyes steeled when hearing about 'insuffereable business acquaintances'. "And who has been getting on your nerves so much that it requires a drink so often?" She kept on a smile, wondering if the other hand grouped *her* along with the other nuisances. "Perhaps I can lend a hand in dealing with them?"

FERNANDA

“To be completely honest, it wasn’t a choice that I had much of a say in. Talks were started long before I took over, and a fully drawn contract was already signed and in place,” she admitted. Fer did let out a small sigh as she smiled and said, “_But_ I have learned to make the best of a bad situation.”

“You _just_ pointed out all my calls to you were business. When do discuss business are kind here?” Was the simple rhetorical response.

The mermaid shook her head and once again and reiterated, “I’m not providing any names. I can handle my own problems on my own. But I appreciate the concern.”

DYLAN

Fernanda had a point, there was a contract signed, and they were not at the point where Dylan would even entertain the idea of letting the other go with little to no consequence. "Hmm, I wouldn't think being in a situation with me is that bad." She chuckled as she made it through two-thirds of her drink.

Her eyes rolled when the mermaid refused to give her names. That wouldn't stop Dylan from assigning someone to poke around regardless if Fernanda wanted her to or not. "Simply curious." She denied. Perhaps part of it was because she was itching for some trouble and these sounded like they could be potential playthings.

FERNANDA

Fernanda's soft smile easily shifted into a knowing smirk. They'd both been tip-toeing around the elephant in the room pretty much since Fer set foot in town, and maybe it was the shot of liquid courage she'd just knocked back, but all the mermaid could reply with was, "I have just as many resources as you do, Dyl. I _know_ what my uncles are like and how they ran the business before I replaced my mother. I _know_ the businesses they work with. Getting in the metaphorical business bed with the Waldorfs is nothing _but_ trouble with a capital T."

She just raised a brow and said, "Ooh, you should save that one. Makes a great product line name."

DYLAN

Her eyes rolled when Fernanda went on about how her uncles ran businesses. She, too, was aware how they ran it and needless to say, Fernanda was a great improvement when it came to their partnership. "Mm, metaphorical bed.. " She laughed, "But anyways, we are not *trouble*." She said that with a smirk on her face. "We haven't had any trouble so far." However, she will refrain from commenting on the uncles - she was simply glad she did not have to deal with them any longer.

FERNANDA

"The only bed I'll ever venture to get into with you based on how you've chosen to behave yourself," she stated plainly, as if detailing the most obvious of things. "You keep repeating that, but just because the matters have not been trouble _for you_, it does not mean they weren't trouble in general." It was a _fact_ that she knew and could not ignore. Regardless of how Dylan personally presented herself, and how lovely she'd been today in helping her...there was a marked difference between Dylan her friend and Dylan her business associate and as long as the latter existed, the former would never be anything more.

DYLAN

"Oh? And how have I chosen to behave myself" Perhaps the drinks were getting to her, but Dylan's smile faltered ever so slightly. "Are you saying that *my* trouble have been bothering you?" Surely these weren't just the annoying business acquaintances she was talking about earlier. It was as if that had been the wake up call to sober her up - to a degree - her eyes steeled at the idea that people had been messing with what's hers.

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FERNANDA

The mermaid saw on reason to _not_ answer the question. "Today? Patiently," she said with a smile, "Graciously, dare I say, even _caringly_. To which my gratitude will never be enough." There was a pause before her smile fell a bit and she said, "Every other day, however, you are downright baffling. You are hare almost daily, which makes me think you have a reason to return, but then are constantly antagonistic to my cousins and derisive about our lifestyle and the things that are actual passions for the members of this home...So, until you you can make up your own mind, metaphors are the only things we'll have."

At the manner in which Dylan asked her about the other troubles, Fer knew she'd made a mistake in even broaching the subject. "It's not important. Not right now. Things have been addressed, and if and when they arise again, they will continue to be addressed. By _me_."

DYLAN

That was not the answer she expected. Least of all, that she had behaved *caringly*. However, before she could even retort to any of that, Fernanda continued and was .. truthfully honest with her which was something she was still not used to. It took everything to not give away any expression because it seemed that the woman herself was either ignoring it, or simply didn't know that *she* was majorly the reason why she kept going to that barn. No one will hear from her lips that her fashionista friend had become partially why. "It's not like I stopped them from doing whatever they considered their hobbies and-or job."

Nope. This was already on Dylan's radar. She was going to get someone to investigate this. Of course, this wasn't out of concern, but curiosity - or so she told herself. "So it's still important." She pointed out. "You know it'll arise again." This was how those people worked.

FERNANDA

A harsh scoff fell from Fernanda's lips at the simple response. "Your father didn't stop you from taking over the company, but you can hardly say that his words during the board meetings don't make the job all that much harder to get through. Being expected to continue to do something you love after it's been brought to your attention that some consider it useless and laughable, is hardly something you can do with the same joy as before."

The mermaid took in a deep breath and held it as she rolled her neck around, not releasing it until she had dropped her head to stare at her own feet for a moment. When she looked up her look was steeled. "I _know_ it will. I've _known_ it would since the moment I took the position I did. I have three young ones -now even much younger than before- to consider in my day-to-day, and I refuse to allow myself to live in fear of what will be a problem for a later day, lest it trickle down to them. And I _will_ take care of it as I have done times before."

DYLAN

No matter how good her poker face was, this topic had always been a weak point. Her eyes steeled when her father was suddenly brought up since this was perhaps the last thing she expected. "I thought his constant nagging would have given away that there wasn't much of a choice." Her eyes rolled as she straightened her back, all playfulness gone from her demeanor. Her father only gave her the company simply because he didn't want to give it to *Damien*. Dylan was damn sure that he wouldn't have handed her the job no matter how much she begged if there had been another candidate.

With a sigh of defeat, the half-demon leaned back in her seat. The mermaid made it very clear that she won't do anything about it unless absolute necessary even if she had the means for it right now. Who was Dylan to change her mind? "Very well." was all she said before getting out of her seat and straightening out her outfit. Guess she'll have to stick with the plan of investigating it behind the scenes. Not that she wanted to go back to said three young ones, but Dylan understood that Fernanda was exhausted. "I suppose it's time to dismiss my subordinate for the day, otherwise you'll think I'm keeping her here against her will." A light tease before she walked back into the living room regardless if Dallas was actually struggling or not.

FERNANDA

"My point exactly," she said with an edge of frustration. "You know that someone considers you taking over the company to be a 'bad thing' and it bothers the fuck out of you regularly. Would it really be that difficult for you to understand that the same applies to the three youngest members of this home? Especially when, if you got to know them a little better, you'd come to realize they also _don't_ have the best relationship with their own fathers..." If she were completely honest, Fernanda wasn't entirely sure why she was suddenly so hellbent on Dylan realizing she had common ground with her cousins or even pointing out how she was hurting their feelings so that she'd stop...well, she was partially aware, but that very well may be a moot point now...

As Dylan made her way around the island, Fer moved to step in her way and reached out to take the woman's hand but, stopped short. Instead, after a beat, she just closed the distance and wrapped her arms around the other's middle as she burrowed her face agains her chest. "Thank you. I know the conversation took a turn, but I really do appreciate everything you did today."

DYLAN

The half-demon could only understand that the mermaid thought she was being a bully to her cousins, but she was not sure why the other was so insistent to get her to *relate* to them - that they had more in common than what meets the eye. Reluctant to vocally give in, Dylan admit that it was indeed embarrassing and shitty to know that the whole board knew that her father didn't like the way she ran things, and the fact that she wasn't the intended heir. "I'll tease them less." is all she said about it.

She had been on her way back but again, for the nth time tonight, she was taken by surprise. When Fernanda grabbed her, she didn't know what to expect. Hell, she thought the younger woman was about to drag her ass out of the house. Instead, she was wrapped in a hug. A hug. This .. was very unexpected to the point that Dylan didn't actually know what to do. The only hugs she got was from Nox and she never reciprocated those, and often she shoved them away.

Awkwardly hugging back with a hand gently patting her the other's back, Dylan's voice was quieter, "I don't think I did anything except hold Julian at the store."

FERNANDA

Even though she was almost certain that Dylan believed her response was going to be taken at face-value, and considered a throw-away phrase meant to placate the mermaid, Fer knew better. Just the fact that she was willing to even _say_ anything that could remotely be taken as her having considered the other person's words spoke far more than the few words she'd actually vocalized. "I'm sure it'll be made easier by the fact they can't actually talk back at the moment," she replied.

Fernanda wasn't actually expecting the hug to be reciprocated. If anything, she was selfishly using the hug to provide herself an anchor for the first time since walking in to a room full of babies...or well, if honesty was the name of the game, she'd been in need of an anchor long before that. The mermaid was perfectly content to not have been pushed away, but the gentle pats had her genuinely smiling for the first time in a good bit that day. It wasn't the extent of the effort made, it was the fact that Dylan was clearly _willing_ to make one.

"Considering I had two other babies to deal with, that is a full one-third of the job," she said, not wanting to sell the woman's efforts short. "Besides, you also got me some rockers, had help come in to give me a break...I wouldn't hold it against you if you opted to not return until things are back to normal, but I'm pretty sure Julian, and even the girls and the fluffies would miss you..._I_ would miss you..."

DYLAN

Dylan could only focus on the fact that almost every sense was being invaded by the mermaid. The last person who was willing to hug her like this had been Kieran, which felt like an eternity ago. And even then, it didn't feel the same as this. "I wouldn't say that'd be a lie." Her words were light, and even without looking, one could feel the smug smirk she had on.

Her smile did falter at Fernanda's next words. It was odd, hearing praise for something she didn't even thought was a big deal. And for once, she was thankful that her face was hidden from the other. "... You are a strange woman." She chuckled softly before pulling herself back enough to have her arms still around. "One normally wouldn't say they'd miss a Waldorf." On the contrary, there was only a handful of people who had ever said that, and only one would've been genuine about it. However, she was somehow more affected when Fernanda said it than when it was from her previous ~~pet ~~ girlfriend.

"It's almost believable that Julian might, but the rest of your household? I doubt it." She chuckled as she stepped back from the hug. It was more so that she wouldn't do something stupid, like kiss the woman when Fernanda had clearly drawn the line just a moment ago.

FERNANDA

At the smug remark, all Fer could do was grin and say, "Aaand, you're done." Not that she pulled too far away however, knowing in the end that this was just Dylan's way of trying to keep up the mask of being aloof and unfeeling. Though the mermaid originally only ever saw that mask slip during board meetings involving the woman's father, she had to admit it was much nicer to see it practically fall off in her own home.

"I never said anything about missing a Waldorf," she was quick correct. "I said we'd miss _you_. As a woman in your position as head of a business, you of all people should know that it's the specifics that make all the difference." Fer could only chuckle as she went ahead and stepped off to the side so Dylan could make her way through. "You vastly underestimate just how engrained you've become in the daily happenings of this house," she began, sliding her hands in her pockets as she glanced over at the other, "Why it is you choose to do so, however, is a question only you can answer."

DYLAN

"Hmm, as if you aren't surprised by the number of people who don't read their contracts before signing." No, this was not her admitting that there were questionable documents in her company's archives.

Making her way back on her original path towards the living room, she didn't comment about the effect she had on the barn house. "Dallas." She called out the moment she stepped into the room, but then paused because she remembered Fernanda's words from earlier. "...I won't hold you here tonight but starting tomorrow, you can come by at least twice a week to help out." That should be enough to give the mermaid a bit of a break within the week, "And you can bring your clone if she wants to come." She was certain the sister was here solely because Dallas was here, and not because she wanted to play with babies.

KALA

Kala had been doing her best to keep Dallas busy, partially afraid that if her sister was left to her own thoughts too long, she'd get emotional again, and then proceed to make noise and wake up the babies. If anything, she was probably far more relieved at the sight of Dylan making her way over than even her sister was.

She'd only been paying attention half-way to what the woman was telling Dallas, however, as her phone had gone off and the message had been from Leo. Catching onto the last bit, she chimed and said, "Would love to, it's been a blast. _But_, my actual boss just sent me a text and apparently I have my own baby situation to help out with so, have fun."

DALLAS

Dallas knew Kala didn't have to be here but she was thankful nonetheless. Neither of them are good with kids but it was nice to know that she wasn't alone doing this while her boss went to flirt. Dallas was also thankful when Dylan eventually came back to find them and while she didn't know what happened in the time they were gone, but she was surprised that she wasn't ordered to be the babies' permanent babysitter.

"..Yeah, I can come in two times a week.. If Ms. Salazar can let me know what days.. My schedule lately.. has been my boss' schedule." She looked over at the mermaid, to the demon. After seeing a nod from Dylan, her hand reached out to her sister. "We'll.. be out of your way for tonight then.."

FERNANDA

She kept the quip of Dylan basically admitting she didn't read their contracts to herself, feeling it wasn't worth the argument it would likely lead to. Instead she followed behind as the other approached the twins, and was left gaping as she considered how to best interject without coming across as if she was directly rejecting what was clearly Dylan's attempt to help...because _that_ would also not end well.

"Uh, well, if you're looking to make some extra-cash or need to keep busy, then I would greatly appreciate the help on Mondays and Wednesdays. Sundays and Tuesdays are Dee's overnight shifts," she settled on explaining. Still giving Dallas the choice, while not outright rejecting Dylan's offer. As the girls began to make their way out, she said, "Be safe and text me when you get home please." Turning back to Dylan all she could say was, "I can barely wrap my head around baby mermaids, I can't even begin to imagine what a baby dragon shifter would get up to."

DYLAN

Dylan let the two of them figure out the schedule because if she had her way, Dallas would be a permanent babysitter everyday - which was apparently not what Fernanda wanted. Regardless, at least Fernanda was open to use her subordinate as extra hands even though neither of them heard what the DJ's experience with kids were. "...Would she not be the size of a lizard?"

She couldn't help but snort at the mental image she had of that. "I don't recall the other one had any shifting abilities so one lizard and one minion." Walking over to Julian's rocker, the woman grimaced a little at the slobber she spotted. "Oh god.." She muttered under her breath. "They're going to need more bibs if they keep slobbering like that."

FERNANDA

The mermaid furrowed her brow and gave Dylan a look like she’d just stated two plus two was five. “Just because something gets younger, that doesn’t suddenly make it change species. A dragon and a lizard are not the same thing. Not to mention even as babies, dragons can still set things on _fire_.” She did not envy Mr. Xanatos at all. “Worst that could happen with Julie and Cat is they get wet, gain a tail, and lose two chonky little legs they aren’t really using right now.”

She rolled her eyes at the lovely nicknames Dylan had for the twins. Of course, Fer hadn’t really expected Dylan to stay after the girls left, so when the woman proceeded to then move over to approaching Julian…to say it took her a bit to wrap her mind around it would be an understatement. “Uh, yeah I got several packs,” she half-stammered out. Handing her a bright pink one she added, “He’d never forgive me for anything less. He may already be upset it’s not Balenciaga or something.”

DYLAN

"...po-tay-to, po-tah-to." She waved it off. They were all reptiles in some form or another, so what if one could breathe fire? "Then we should be thankful that they aren't babies, otherwise we would need to ban them from coming." She didn't think the twins would have other reasons to visit this lot if it weren't for an errand.

She stared at the bib in her hand without almost disbelief. Clearly the mermaid thought that she mentioned it because *she* wanted to change it. However, she let it go when Fernanda brought up the next topic. "Well, we can easily appease that. Might as well update their closet while we're at it." While While she didn't think the brand actually made baby gear, Dylan was very good at persuasion when it was necessary. Dylan grimaced at the used bib, holding it with just her index finger and thumb and quickly handing that over to the mermaid.

FERNANDA

Fer simply rolled her eyes as clearly Dylan was feeling a bit more back to her usual self of waving everything off as trivial, unless it affected her directly. "I think if they were babies, they wouldn't really have the means by which to come all the way out here to begin with," she pointed out.

It was almost comical how Dylan suddenly seemed to regard the bib as if the mermaid were handing her a live-bomb. She was even more amused at the idea of an infant Julian rocking his favorite brands, but the amusement was replaced at the sight of Dylan _actually_ taking the bib and making an attempt to clean up her cousin. What was it about this woman right now that doing such simple things -and clearly not wanting to do them- that had Fernanda second-guessing just about everything, if she were honest. "And here I thought someone like you would be far more comfortable with other people's saliva," she remarked instead.

DYLAN

It didn't really register in her mind as to why she was even bothering with Julian's bib. All she could think about was to avoid getting any of that slobber on *her*. Getting the new bib on him wasn't the issue, the fact that she had to deal with the used one was stressing her out. "Not like this I'm not." She mumbled as she held it out since she didn't know where she was supposed to put it.

"I think we should just get disposable bibs." She muttered because she wanted to set it aflame if she didn't get this to the nearest trash can. Returning her attention to Julian, Dylan made the mental note to add a few more of his favourite fashion brands to the list when picking out the new swag. Might as well doll him up when he can't talk fashion with her. "...Do they all drool like this?" She cringed before turning around to look at Fernanda again.

FERNANDA

"That just means you haven't been a good friend and helped out your wasted buddies after a night out," Fer pointed out with a teasing tone. Taking the old bib with little hesitation she snorted before just saying, "I got reusable ones for a reason. We can just toss them in the wash and they'll be good as new. Much less waste of money and resources. Besides, this is just drool. Wait for one of them to spit-up."

Taking the opportunity to go ahead and get the girls into fresh bibs as well, Dylan's question was unexpected but amusing. "Uh, it doesn't seem like it. Julie just tends to sleep with his mouth open."

DYLAN

Somehow Dylan felt that she was being made fun of for 2 aspects: Not ever having to personally help someone out, and not having a friend to actually go be wasted with. "We're definitely burning *those*." She didn't know if that was going to happen but with the way the mermaid was describing it, it looked like Dylan should expect to see them soon. Using a bit of money and resources might be necessary.

She looked at the baby again, "...Can we tape his mouth shut when he sleeps?" Even Dylan wasn't sure if she was joking or not because she felt another shiver going down her spine from seeing the drool. Taking her mind off of it, she pulled out her phone and started to make a list of the things she needs to replace, including the bags and gear they would need. It was essentially a large overhaul.

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FERNANDA

Blue eyes rolled for what felt the millionth time. “We’re not burning anything. Hanu and his crew have their hands full with everything a Northeast winter brings,” she said, clearly not trusting that any attempt at fire would go sideways with Dylan involved.

The glare she shot the other woman would be enough to freeze hell, but to ensure her point came across she stated, “Do. Not.” She went about making sure their diapers were still good before standing up herself and walking over to Dylan. Raising an eyebrow as she caught a glimpse of the other’s phone, she asked, “Whatcha doin’ there?”

DYLAN

Leave it to Fernanda to put a stop on all her fun... and suggestions to stop the kid from drooling. Dylan looked up from her phone and gave the younger woman a weird look, "Compiling a list of everything I'm about to replace." She said it as if were obvious. This was honestly an excuse to go on a shopping spree - If she was going to be seen with these kids, then obviously they had to be equipped with appropriate brands.

"Was there something else you wanted?" The question was tossed out casually but there was a speck of curiosity to see if there was anything she could gift the other. Somehow the idea of buying material things for one Fernanda Salazar felt very different from all the other times when she gave presents for her 'sugar babies'.

FERNANDA

At the question of there being something she’d like, Fer simply responded with, “Yes. For you to please delete the list, you’ve already done more than enough in getting them the rockers. There’s genuinely no need to get such items when they’re just babies. Weather the diaper is carried in a backpack or a Dior bag, they’re just going to shit in them all the same.”

Heaving a sigh, she took hold of Dylan’s arm and guided her so they could share a seat on. The couch facing the babies. “I want to make it clear that I’m not rejecting _you_, okay? Just the expensive things you want to get. They don’t need a Gucci baby carrier, they need you and your arms to carry them. And I’m honestly more than satisfied with having you keep me company once in a while.”

DYLAN

She was almost appalled by the idea of deleting this list but before she even got to fight it, Fernanda pulled her to the couch. 'They don't need a Gucci baby carrier' That alone had Dylan's eyes widened. "Uh, the fact that they need to be carried around instead is exactly why we should get that baby carrier. Besides, isn't the point of putting a baby in one of those is so that you can free your *hands* to do other things?" To think that Dylan Waldorf was actually trying to argue a reason to get a baby-related item. What universe was this?

"The shopping is the most exciting thing out of this baby situation, and have you seen these? Look at these Burberry onesies? They could be matching! All three of them." She mumbled as her thumb hovered over the trash icon. Her mood was then made better by the simple confession that her presence was enough. "...You say the strangest things sometimes, darling."

FERNANDA

She was almost certain that if she kept conversing with Dylan, her eyes might just detach from their optic nerve with how often she had the overwhelming need to roll them. "Carriers, strollers, slings, all that stuff is great and serves a purpose," she conceded, "But they don't have to be _Gucci_ or _Louie Vuitton_ or whatever in order to serve that purpose. The rockers you so generously provided are from a chain store, and they're serving their purpose exceedingly well." Of all the arguments she envisioned herself having with Dylan upon first meeting her, _this_ was definitely not on the list.

"If shopping's what you're after, I obviously can't tell you what you can and can't do, but I would definitely encourage you to consider maybe shopping at Target or Macy's even. We don't even know how long they're going to be babies for yet, and even then, kids go through size changes like crazy in the first two years," Fer noted. She only smiled in return at the comment and said, "Well, you've been _doing_ the most surprising things lately, _querida_."

DYLAN

The words 'they don't have to be' only meant that 'they could be' to Dylan's ears but she shouldn't say that aloud because she was going to get another glare from the mermaid. There wasn't an argument that Dylan seemed to be capable of winning where the mermaid was concerned and oddly enough, she wasn't too upset over it - a bit offended that she was told to shop at Target or Macy's, but that was about it. "Fine.. No brand names for anyone."

It also didn't help that Fernanda continually to compliment her - this time with the addition of the affectionate way of addressing her. She was well aware that she had been doing a few things that were uncharacteristic of her but she enjoyed being here despite being surrounded by a few people that she would not give the time of day if it weren't for the woman in front of her. Still, a Waldorf would not admit to that so instead, she just sat back with a light shrug. "If there's resources to take advantage of, we should make use of them." The extra help being one of the examples.

FERNANDA

Fer hadn't unhooked her arm from Dylan's since she'd brought her over to the couch. And once the other relented -at least for the moment- she simply beamed at her as she then used her free hand to pull the throw on the back of the couch of the the both of them. As Dylan sat back, so did the mermaid as she said, "Resources _should_ be taken advantage of, but not _exploited_. Now come on, we've still got at least few hours to kill before Dee gets home." As she mentioned this she grabbed the TV remote as she pulled her feet up onto the couch -leaning into Dylan in the process, but making no move to remedy that- and as she began to flip through the different apps on the quiet TV she asked, "What's your favorite movie?"

DYLAN

She was just watching Fernanda get comfy next to her, and the surprise of it all was that she was actually sort of.. leaning into her? Her mind actually went blank as she was processing this so when she was asked about her favourite movie, she continued to stare at the mermaid before her brain finally caught up to her, "While I do enjoy a movie here and there, I don't actually have a favourite. There hadn't been one that I watched more than once... We could just watch whatever's new."

FERNANDA

Fernanda was looking at Dylan expectantly, figuring the woman might be thinking about her answer, but after a few moments her look became one of confusion and even slight concern when Dylan just seemed to stare back at her blankly. She had been about to ask if she was feeling well when the woman finally spoke, and though still skeptical, she just nodded and turned her attention back to the TV. "Well, I guess we can just start with one of my favorites of the season: Home Alone."

She very highly doubted that Dylan would find this to be of any value, but at least it was a time for them to pass the time.

DYLAN

She had not seen the movie before, nor did she think she'll have interest in it. There were always other ways to pass time, but Dylan didn't feel the urge to move from their spot. Moreover, it was Fernanda's favourite so maybe she could give it a shot - or so she thought. The entire time the movie was playing, all she could focus on was the younger woman sitting next to her. If one were to ask what the movie was about? She could not answer you.

With how Fernanda was leaning into her, however, Dylan felt she should move her arm so it's more comfortable... and so she freed her arm... only to toss it over Fernanda's shoulder casually with her eyes *glued* to the screen. "That kid's resourceful."

FERNANDA

The last time she had seen the first Home Alone movie had been back in the summer when her cousins -and a begrudging Artie- had decided to celebrate 'Christmas in July'. Not that it mattered much, the movie on its own was fine, but the nostalgia of watching it with the kids growing up was would always guarantee it had rewatch value. There was a brief moment she considered some hot chocolate, but found she was far too comfortable to move.

As it stood, the longer the movie ran, the more comfortable she found she felt. So by the time Dylan's arm went from being pinned between them, to being tossed over her shoulder, the mermaid just took the opportunity to sidle up to the woman's side properly. If asked, she could claim it was to leech her warmth, but Fer had always been an honest person and would likely just say it was because she had wanted too. What that meant, exactly, could be figured out later. "That kid is Julian's physical traits, Cat's height and creativity, and Artie's penchant for mischief all rolled into one. And something tells me they're not losing that just because they're babies."

#fallcrest:event 007 #event007.3.1BBV #fallcrest:plotdrop #plot drop 7

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nintendomofo · 2 years

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Best Switch games | GamesRadar+

With plenty of top titles on the horizon, our picks of the best Nintendo Switch games is bound to shift by the end of the year, but for now, it's static. Mario Strikers: Battle League didn't quite cut the mustard so hasn't managed to kick its way onto this list.The games on this list aren't all Switch exclusives, but they are best experienced on Nintendo's latest console. What we've attempted to do is make this list of best Switch games as varied as possible too, so hopefully, there's something for everyone to enjoy whether you're a JRPG fan or Super Mario diehard. We've got you covered for the future too, with our list of all the upcoming Switch games so you know what to add to your wishlist for 2021. If you're here because you're considering a Nintendo Switch OLED purchase, check out all the deals you can get on a Nintendo Switch bundle.

25. Kirby and the Forgotten Land

(Image credit: Nintendo)Genre: Platformer / AdventureWhat is it? Kirby's first fully 3D platforming adventure featuring more open stages and Mouthful ModeWhy should you buy it? Kirby and the Forgotten Land takes you on a memorable adventure packed full of delightful features, challenges, and new standout additions. Taking place in a mysterious world setting that's made up of wonderfully creative stages, every level hides plenty of secrets and eye-catching sights that you'll want to experience for yourself. The platforming is more open, so you can take the time to explore and make the most of the pink puffball's first proper step into the realm of 3D. With boss fights, puzzles, and a variety of foes to take on with Kirby's slate of copy abilities, Forgotten Land also introduces the new Mouthful Mode skill that allows you to become a car, cone, water balloon, and much more besides to progress. And when you want to take a break from the platforming, you can even take a breather at Waddle Dee Town, with mini-games and side activities galore. If you're looking for something to make you smile or brighten up your day, then look no further.

24. Super Mario 3D World + Bowser's Fury

(Image credit: Nintendo)Genre: Adventure / PlatformerWhat is it? A re-release of the Wii U classic, but with a brand new Mario adventure added in for brilliant good fun in one package.Why should you buy it? Super Mario 3D World + Bowser's Fury gives you a whole host of Mario fun in one bundle. On the one hand you've got the re-release of the Wii U platformer Super Mario 3D World, which offers a range of inventive platforming levels that you can play through on your own or with up to three friends. It's the game that introduced the Cat Mario power-up and it's wonderfully zany as well as inventive with its worlds. But then you've also got the compact new adventure that is Bowser's Fury. This is more akin to Super Mario Odyssey, and delivers a brand new story to explore and play through as you fight alongside Bowser Jr. to take down Fury Bowser. It takes elements from Super Mario 3D World too, so it's just as loveable too. This is quite the package. Today's best Super Mario 3D World + Bowser’s Fury deals

23. Bayonetta 2

(Image credit: Nintendo, Sega, Platinum Games)Genre: ActionWhat is it? An exhilarating hack ’n’ slash adventure.Why should you buy it? Originally released as a Wii U exclusive, Bayonetta 2 has now been re-released on Switch, and it means that you now have no excuses not to play it. Although, when the heroine is a witch with magical hair and (literally) killer stilettos, you won’t really need an excuse not to. This Switch release allows you to experience some of the most action-packed, brutal moments from the last decade of gaming wherever you want. Although it’s a shame the resolution is locked to 720p, even on your TV, it doesn’t detract from the fact it’s a better game than it was on Wii U, even if you look at the major frame rate improvements alone. The game looks stunning regardless, and if you’re an action game fan in the slightest you owe it to yourself to play Bayonetta 2. In fact, when you buy Bayonetta 2 you actually go one better, because you get the original game thrown in for free too. Bargain.

22. Gris

Genre: Platformer What is it? A stunning, watercolour, platformer with a soundtrack that's as smooth as pouring treacle in your ears. Why should you buy it? Sometimes you just want something a little bit different, and if you're looking to push the indie boat out, then Gris is one for you. In terms of gameplay, it's a wonderful puzzle / platformer that'll have you trying to restore the world of colour, but aesthetically it's one of the most beautiful games we've ever had the privilege to play. It's high up on our list of must-play best Switch games for that reason alone. The colour spectrum evolves the more you play, and as you unlock colours and move through the game you'll be introduced to different areas and locales that are just so pretty I can't help but spam the screenshot button. This is a glorious little game that utterly shines on Switch. Genre: PlatformerWhat is it? A sprawling, decadent open-world RPG filled with dragons, magic, and a bloody civil war with you right at the centre. Why should you buy it? Let’s ignore the fact that in Skyrim Nintendo Switch (opens in new tab) you can fight dragons with your bare hands. Let’s also ignore the stunning scenery that oozes character, whether it’s the dismal, unnerving forest of Falkreath or the golden trees swaying near Riften. Don’t pay attention to the grand total of 244 quests, or the DLCs included in the Switch edition that’ll have you journeying to new lands. Instead focus on the motion controls. They’re damn good, allowing you to raise a hand to your chest to block with a shield, or tilt the Joy-Cons to aim where you’re firing a handful of fire. You can even pick locks with your bare hands now, for Talos’ sake (as long as they’re holding Joy-Cons, that is). While we wait for Elder Scrolls 6 (opens in new tab), Skyrim on the Switch will make you feel connected to Tamriel’s world like never before, and an essential on our best Switch games list for RPG lovers.Today's best The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim deals

20. Moonlighter

Genre: Action, AdventureWhat is it? An adventure where you spend your days tending a shop, and nights fighting through various dungeons to free the town and find things to sell in said shop.Why should you buy it? If you're looking for the best pixel graphics you've ever seen, you need to check out Moonlighter. This glorious game channels Stardew Valley with that "just one more day" gameplay loop, but instead of tending a farm you're part-time dungeon crawler, part-time shopkeeper in this best Switch games entry. During the day you're figuring out what price to set for each of your hard-earned items, trying to stop thieves from pinching your wares, and saving up enough dosh to rebuild the town. But by night, you're scavenging items to sell in your shop from the dungeons, and working your way towards beating the boss beast that lurks in each one, whilst trying to stay alive. Its addictive gameplay loop means that it's going to be one of those games that eat evenings for breakfast - sometimes literally - and carves a groove into your Switch library. You don't find many games like Moonlighter.

19. Hollow Knight

Genre: Platformer What is it? An epic, platforming adventure with some of the most beautiful environments we've ever seen. Why should you buy it? Some are suggesting that Hollow Knight is Dark Souls for beginners. But it's really a Dark Souls with stunning hand-painted aesthetics and a color palette to make you cry, and a stunning orchestral soundtrack that you just want to bathe in. It's one of our best Switch games for a reason folks. In true Metroidvania style, you'll be exploring a labyrinth of underground areas each more distinct than the last, and all filled with strange creatures to fight, and bizarre bugs to befriend. (Yes, really.) As you progress you gain new abilities, grow in power, and more devoted to uncovering all of Hollow Knight's secrets. One of the greatest best Switch games to date.

18. Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker

Genre: PlatformerWhat is it? An excellent port of a Wii U exclusive with some brilliant new additions to make it one of the best Switch games.Why is it interesting? Aside from the fact you should buy this for the adorability factor of Toad and Toadette alone, it also happens that Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker is one of the best Wii U ports available on Switch. It's a fantastic puzzler where every level takes the form of an interactive puzzle box or diorama that you can traverse, poke, prod, pull, push and generally interact with to unlock its secrets and reach the end goal of the golden star. And each one is beautiful, intricate and just perplexing enough to leave you suitably impressed and a tiny bit chuffed when you finish it. Plus, there are additional challenges that you can go back and dive into too, making this little puzzler stretch further than you originally anticipate. Just wait until you see the new, Switch exclusive, levels based on Super Mario Odyssey (opens in new tab). Being able to waddle through little box-shaped version of Odyssey's Sand, Metro, Cascade, and Luncheon Kingdoms is sheer joy, and they are just as beautifully executed as the other levels available too. Read the full article

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

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Deja Vu pt6

Hey guys! Surprise!! Have twenty pages of Dee picking a fight on TV. For those who are new around, [here’s] the first chapter and for those who need a refresher [here’s] the previous chapter!

Summary: Remus and Dee confront The Prince on live TV. Things go downhill rather quickly.

Word Count: 10447

TW: temporary character death, blood,

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Remus is twenty-one and he thinks that people might not actually be worth saving at all.

There’s an electricity in the air, a buzzing so loud that he can almost taste it as he shifts his weight between his feet. There are so many people around him, nearly too many, packed together like sardines in all the crevices that they can fit. Remus wants so badly to kick his leg out just to see if with one nudge he could toppled the human domino train down all the way, but Dee gives his hand a small, gentle squeeze.

His hand is warm, his touch intoxicating in a way that no drug could ever hope to be. Remus has felt it before, in futures that never happened, but it still feels unreal as it's going on. He thinks maybe, possibly that he’s stuck right now, right this second and that his real body is somewhere else bleeding out on the ground.

But he also thinks, traitorously, stupidly, suicidally, that he doesn’t mind as long as he gets to keep feeling Dee’s hand in his right now.

Dee’s touch is featherlight, but Remus is hyperaware of every atom in his body at these moments: Dee goes on to talk about so many things, but Remus’s brain only hears touch, warmth, Dee, Dee, Dee. And the Shapeshifter has to say his name at least four times before Remus realizes that time is passing and he’s not passing with it.

It should be annoying-- Remus thinks that Roman would have tried throttling him by now--but Dee just gives him a wispy, honeyed smile and does it again, like seeing Remus short circuit is somehow the best sight in the world.

Which is sweet, sugary, splendid. It might even mean that Dee intends to stick around after those feelings fade away to the bitter acquired taste that is Remus’s company after a year. So very few people ever got past that: the kids at school had flocked to Roman’s cotton candy exterior and had eaten him all up and then got burned when they mistakenly thought that Remus was anything like his twin outside his face.

(He wonders even now if Roman still shares that face with him. Did he dye his hair? Get piercings? Or did he cover his mirrors so he wouldn’t have to remember Remus existed at all? Does Roman think about Remus nearly as much as Remus thinks about Roman?)

Oh wait, Remus knows the answer to that last one.

Dee squeezes his hand again, even without looking. He insisted on dressing presentably today: shining shoes and one of his new suits tailored to his exact size and a flattering face that just screams trust me with all your finances, I won’t rob you blind, Grannie! When they were getting their coffees, the woman in front of them had called him a gentleman and Remus almost choked on his drink at that. A pretty face, a kind gesture, a mask and Dee wore his like a skin walking alien and no one was any wiser about it. Except Remus.

He reaches over and steals Dee’s latte from his hand. Dee tenses, then relaxes and watches with an amused smile as Remus sniffs it.

“Not nearly enough vodka in this,” he decides and Dee laughs.

“Ah, yes, because the girl at the counter is surely old enough to be serving alcohol,” Dee says. “And the last thing I want to do is be on TV drunk.”

His nose scrunches up at the detestable thought, but Remus thinks it’s the exact opposite of what they should be doing. Dee? On TV? With no inhibitions? Remus listened to his late-night rambles on the flaws of society when there was nothing but sleep deprivation weighing on their souls and Remus was moved enough to find himself here today. There was something about his honesty, his psychological approaches, his confidence, that made him so trustworthy. He was a leader at heart and Remus was happy to follow him, even if it meant going right off a cliff.

(Not like he hadn’t done that a time or fifty before. And besides, Dee could grow wings if he wanted. He’d catch both of them and fly them to safety.)

“A dash of vodka is just liquid courage,” Remus says.

Dee turns his green eyes on him, the light through the window making sparkles in his irises, or maybe that’s just Dee doing subtle magic of his own. Whatever it was Remus decides he doesn’t ever want to look away again. Dee's eyes are priceless; Remus wouldn’t be surprised if Dee had stolen a hundred jadeite stones and shoved them in his eyes for safekeeping.

“Who needs liquid courage--” Dee says “--when I have you?”

Remus tips back Dee’s latte and slurps it so that his tongue burns right out of his mouth, because then at least there’s a reason for the mortifying smoldering all over his face. Dee reaches up and rubs the pad of his thumb over Remus’s cheek, tickling his mustache ever so slightly and laughs again.

“Darling,” he says. “You’re too easy.”

“You going to do something about it?” Remus challenges. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it right here, over this table, you know. Might wanna make sure little Timmy over there is covering his eyes first though. He doesn’t need his awakening until a few more years down the line.”

They’re close enough to the other customers that an elder woman with a pocket dog in her purse gives him a glare and a teenage girl in a sweater turns bright pink and stares out the window just a bit too hard. There’s a good chance that Remus could get both of them to do something more, but before he can open his mouth again, Dee is leaning in.

He’s using his usual height today, which means that Remus is just a bit taller, but Dee makes those three inches feel like hairbreadths. His breath is warm on Remus’s neck, and it sends shivers down his back when the phantom feeling brushes over his skin. He smells like cardamom, and Remus’s mouth freezes, his words long lost and forgotten in the prospect of Dee saying literally anything at all.

But in the end Dee just wordlessly hums and drops back to his flat foot.

It takes Remus a whole second to remember how to breathe. And another to realize that Dee took back his latte and was drinking it like he was entirely unaware of what he had just done to Remus, except that his lips slip off the rim on his cup and they’re curled upwards in that absolutely sensual smirk of his.

“It’s almost time,” the shapeshifter says moving on casually while Remus tries not to let his brain melt right out of his ears. “I should go get into place.” He peeks at Remus and glances away just as quickly. “You…you’re sure that you’re alright to do this, Remus? You don’t have to if it will hurt you.”

Remus wonders vainly if Dee was aware that the term “Martyr” was engraved on his ribcage, imprinted on his heart, seared into his soul. If there was ever a choice between himself and someone else getting hurt, Remus wouldn’t hesitate, and he never had. If Roman had ever looked, like truly looked, he might have noticed that, and then maybe things would have turned out even marginally different. But this time around, Remus nods at Dee and squeezes his hand back so hard that his fingers lose their blood flow.

“It’s not gonna hurt me,” Remus says, which might be a lie and not even a believable one, but they both pretend. “Besides, this means something to you, doesn’t it?”

Dee’s shoulders tense, and resettle, as if he’s reminding himself that Remus is not a threat. He licks his lips, chasing after the taste of espresso. “It does,” he says and it shouldn’t feel like Dee is telling him some big surprise secret, because they spent the past three days planning this whole thing out on the floor of their hotel room while Remus rolled that casino coin between his fingers and thought about how Dee’s hair looks soft and fluffy when he’s just waking up.

“Remus…” Dee starts. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet. About me. And… this.”

Whatever this is. He’s hesitating again, hovering like he’s on top of a fence topped with barbed wire and he knows that he needs to pick a side but can’t quite decide which side will hurt less: the spikes or the lava? Remus shakes away the unneeded thoughts to focus in on the trepidation in Dee’s expression, but as soon as he zeroes in on it, Dee smooths it out.

“Timing,” he says almost as if to himself. Then, “I’ll tell you after we do this. I owe… I owe you that much.”

Remus doesn’t think there’s a single thing that Dee could ever owe him at all. Not when Dee pulled his bleeding body off the balcony, not when Dee kissed him with all the tenderness in the world, not when Dee stayed with him in the face of literally everything. Dee can’t possibly owe him anything when Remus is the one standing here with a power that’s not even helpful unless it’s killing Remus, and Dee is out here trying to save lives with what he has.

But Remus is decently sure that if he opens his mouth to say any of that, what will come out will be something undoubtedly more emotional than they have time for and will probably scare Dee away entirely: a love confession, a proposal, matching headstones for their graves that they’ll probably be in much sooner than either of them would like.

“And Remus?” Dee says, like he doesn’t notice that he’s literally the only thing that matters in Remus’s little world. He gives Remus’s hand another meaningful squeeze. Then he pops up on his toes to brush a kiss to his cheek in a way that makes Remus feel like a middle school girl in a catholic school discovering how attractive boys are for the first time.

His heart beats so hard he thinks he can taste it around the coffee and whatever the hell it is that Dee tastes like.

“Thank you,” Dee says with sincerity.

“If we were characters in a book, this is the part where right before the author kills you off for dramatic effect.” Remus reaches out and clinks his cup with Dee’s. “Don’t make it that easy.”

Dee snorts in that very dignified way of his. “Of course, what was I thinking? My apologies. Here I was, assuming that the soothsayer might be able to help me to cheat Death but apparently I was mistaken.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there in your ear, Despacito,” Remus says pointing towards the earpiece he’s wearing. “You won’t be able to get me out of your mind even if you wanted me to!”

Dee smiles, quick and wonderful and Remus drinks in the sight like it’s the newest liquid craze, better than the latte in Dee’s hands, or the ice coffee in his own, or fresh drinking water in the middle of the desert. Dee’s hand drip, drip, drips right out of Remus’s, although the atoms in his fingers don’t stop tingling with sensation.

“I look forward to it,” Dee says as final parting and then he weaves his way out of the café. Remus bites his plastic straw and follows with his eyes until he can’t anymore. The people around them move out of the way for him because Dee gives off that aura of someone important and no one wants to be caught dead getting dirt on his freshly polished oxfords.

For all their planning, Remus still feels a little nervous with everything going on. They gathered as much information as they could about the day: the new registration office was being set up in a public library as a temporary location and it was closed for activity outside of the registration. Remus took particular pleasure in reading the heartwarming amount of public backlash about that from regular people who just really liked the library for some reason. The building is a lucky four stories tall-- which Remus thinks is nice. The library back in his hometown was two, poorly funded, and he’d been banned from visiting when he was ten because he’d seen the old librarian fall off a ladder and tried to help her by grabbing which did not go over remotely well.

The street is casual: a bunch of modern buildings with local shops and boutiques. Dee got sidetracked two days ago picking out new shoes from a window display and chatting with the owner who surprisingly was very informative.

“The Prince? My niece thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread,” the older woman said while packing up a pair of single strap monks.

“Oh?” Dee said conversationally which made Remus look up from where he was flicking through a rack of sun dresses.

“I think he has a few screws loose,” the woman said. “No child his age should be running around in a costume like that. He’s just inviting danger to himself, not to mention those around him. In fact, Linda-- you know Linda right? She owns the chocolatiering place on fourth street? It’s got lovely chocolate strawberries-- Linda said over our weekly tea that if she got the chance, she would punch him in the face!" the woman chuckled. "But I don't blame her at all. All this nonsense about super powers and abilities and someone might start looking twice at how her baby girl can get any animal to eat out of her hand."

Dee raised an eyebrow. And the lady waved off his unasked question.

"Magic ability or pure coincidence! I don't care about any of that! If that FBE comes knocking on Linda's door the whole group of us shop owners are ready to stand up against them. Linda’s little girl belongs right here with her family and not anywhere near some secret government building or on some watchlist like a criminal!"

They left after that and paid a visit to the chocolate shop on fourth street. And what do you know, the little shop received a generous cash award from a lesser known chocolate secret society group thing. Remus doesn't remember the actual name Dee used, but he does remember that they were selling dinosaur shaped chocolates and he bought a box just so he could bite the heads off all of them.

The main street leading to the library-turned-registration office was closed off completely and marked that way with crowd control fences, which might have been for the best. In just the two days leading up to the grand opening, the city’s population seemed to have doubled. Remus was moderately amused by it, watching from the window of their hotel room: people came from the woodwork, springing into the city with the rigour of a bunch of busy ants who were so completely unaware of the exterminator coming.

Dee didn’t let him try looking to the future more than a few times and to be very ridiculously honest, Remus is kinda grateful for it. Every time he looks he feels something off about himself, something he can’t put a name to, something he can’t put a finger on. It just seems that one minute he’s fine and the next he’s hacking up blood.

Which by the way, means he’s dying according to WebMD and Google. Remus doesn’t let Dee see the worst of it, but the nosebleeds are stronger, and Dee’s not exactly stupid. He can tell that Remus is using more tissues, that he’s holding them to his face longer, that he’s pale and tired and his hands are colder to the touch.

They don’t talk about it. Not really.

They should.

But if there’s one thing that Remus’s mother taught him, it’s that if you avoid talking about something for long enough it will disappear and you’ll forget about it.

Perhaps the biggest thorn in their sides-- both of their sides and their lungs and the back of their necks right through the medulas killing them instantly-- is the charming Prince himself! The character seems to be everywhere and nowhere all at once: the news has him stopping burglaries and home invasions up and down the east coast, calming down violent criminals, and helping little old ladies cross the street, and flashing his award-winning, crowd-hypnotising smile at the cameras. And yet for all the several hours worth of footage that Dee and him had scoured through, neither of them can quite figure out what The Prince’s power is.

It’s mental, at least. Something to do with information based on what Remus can come up with. He can tell from the way that the guy reacts in the middle of any confrontation: there’s a moment where green lights flash in his eyes, flickering so quickly it might have been a trick of the camera if Remus hadn’t caught it so many times on so many different occasions. One moment he’s acting one way, the next he’s changing course entirely, moving or stopping or avoiding. Like he knows what’s going to happen.

Like he can see the future.

But somehow he avoided all the fun nosebleeds and the feeling of death over his shoulder. Like maybe when his power manifested people actually believed him! Like maybe his friends didn’t shove him away and maybe his mother loved him and maybe he stayed home and watched Disney movies with his brother all night when they were seventeen instead of letting him go to a party where everything went wrong.

Remus’s hands shook far more than they had any right to when he first made the connection, first made the comment, first made the joke out loud for Dee to laugh at without pay attention to what he was actually saying. Then he dry heaved into a trash can for fifteen minutes while Dee rubbed his back and pointedly waited for an explanation that Remus didn’t give him because Roman is nothing and no one and he doesn’t matter when Remus has Dee.

“Perhaps he’s a mind reader,” Dee suggested.

Whatever he ends up being, Remus decides that The Prince better hope he figures out some shit with Dee. Because if Remus has to enter the ring, he doesn’t think the Prince will be leaving it in anything other than a body bag.

“You seem very… invested in him,” Dee said when Remus told him as much over a breakfast of french toast and eggs at a dinner where the waitress didn’t tell them to stop making out in any flickers of the future he blinked at. Dee was choosing his words carefully. Too carefully.

“His face is very punchable,” Remus said, squeezing ketchup in his orange juice. “I’m surprised no one else sees it! Don’t you just get filled with rage when you look at him?”

The way Dee blinked said a lot, but Remus pretended not to notice as he used a straw to stir his drink and poured a bit of syrup in too. For flavor and fun. Dee doesn’t say anything more on the topic, and Remus doesn’t ask because he gets the feeling Dee will tell him the truth if he does.

And Remus doesn’t think that this is a truth that Dee wants to tell right now.

Maybe later. After Dee’s dragged the Propaganda Prince from his golden pedestal and Remus has had his fun in the mix. After they stop the FBE from their nefarious plans. After.

Remus tastes the word in his mouth and he’s not sure why it feels so foreign to him. It’s a strange mixture of bitter and unforgettable, of sweet and strange, of something he’s never tried before and might never get to taste again.

It’s better than blood. Less red too.

Remus taps his foot as he watches out the window of the coffee shop. There are a lot of people inside here and he’s not sure how many of them are regulars compared to how many of them want to just watch the possible freaks that have to walk down the street and enter the building pretending like they can’t feel all the world watching them do it.

Remus isn’t even one of the suckers doing it, but he can understand how it might make someone queasy. The number of eyes looking, watching, remembering them is something of a curse; the cameras are blatantly obvious and the gawking of the other people is unignorable. If things were different, Remus wonders if he might have been nervous about this, about entering the building, about taking a step out of line and telling the whole world what he could do.

It was supposed to be a secret, right? At least that’s what his mother had always encouraged him to believe. She told him to stop talking, to stop crying, to shut up and pretend nothing was happening, smile at the cashier, Remus, but don’t tell her that you can see her tripping over her shoe laces and cracking her head on the floor. When people asked his mother how her children were, she never had enough to say about Roman’s achievements.

Remus sticks his straw all the way in his mouth until it pokes his uvula and his eyes water.

She tried.

And in the end it wasn’t enough, isn’t enough, because now she talked so much about Roman that she didn’t even remember that he existed anymore. He’s grown up and she’s still the same.

He wonders if she would even recognize him if they passed each other on the street.

Something to think about. Perhaps he can convince Dee to take a trip with him to the other side of the country, to his hometown, to his old neighborhood. He’s sure that by now they have enough cash for a couple dozen eggs that belong on the outside of his old two story suburban house. After all this, after they save the day, after they put Princey boy in his place. After.

The clock on his phone ticks down, and Remus feels like his chest is going to explode if his heart gets any faster. The FBE registration office opens at ten a.m. and he’s not entirely certain the world will still be standing by ten oh five, but that’s what makes everything fun, isn’t it?

The coffee shop customers shuffle and move like a complex organism trying to rip itself apart but never quite managing it. Outside there are more people, pressed together, close enough to be touching, to be talking, to be nervous and excited and emotional. Camera flashes go off, news crews stand in the middle of the street with microphones interviewing the normal people who are treating this like a festival or a parade rather than the thinly veiled death threat it is.

They’re packed so closely together that Remus has a hard time seeing over their heads, and peeking at the temporary stage that’s been set up in front of the entrance to the library. There’s a podium on it, though, and decorations of a brilliant red, white, and blue, along with speakers and microphones being tested for the brilliant speech that the Prince is going to give for his adoring fans. There’s security and police patrolling everywhere, news crews and reporters and civilians watching with bated breath as the time draws near.

Part of Remus wants to wonder why here, why now, why did the Prince choose to come cross country out of the blue like this? Surely he could get just as much adoration from his fans in New York.

There must have been something that happened on the East Coast that drove him out here. Bad publicity that might make him look bad-- for a moment Remus entertains the idea that the Superhero managed to kill someone and now the FBE was graciously covering it up and sending him to Oregon so that he stays out of the way, stays out of trouble.

Too bad for him; Remus and Dee had claimed this part of the country as their own playground and they brought nothing but trouble with them.

Dee would take extra special delight in taking a bat to the Prince’s glass house reputation if the man let him. Remus would take extra special delight in watching Dee do it.

Remus tapped the screen of his phone again, checking the time. Dee should be in place by now, hiding among the normal people, slipping between the patrolling law enforcers, and plotting the best place to be in order to make his grand entrance.

((It was adorable watching Dee figure out what he wanted it to be: the man curled up in a sweatshirt with hair still wet from his shower and chewing the end of a pencil in between spitballing ideas at Remus. His eyes seemed to glow when he got excited, and they were hypnotizing to look at, swirling with all the colors: grey blue, jade, hazel, silver. Whenever he liked an idea he scribbled it down on a piece of paper and smiled with his fangs out and Remus had to resist the urge to kiss him again, lest they fall behind in their planning phase due to an excessive make out session.))

In the end, planning this whole thing wasn’t all that much different from their other heists: the casino where they met, the fancy banks, the jewelry stores, a privately owned winery. There was less of Remus looking at the future, true, but that just meant that they spent more time lying next to each other scouring the internet on their individual phones for relevant information and eating chocolate dinosaurs.

The clock strikes thirty-till ten and the whole world seems to hold its breath. Remus can feel it, the way the air holds itself and suddenly the whole coffeeshop, the patrons, the cashiers and the machines go quiet with anticipation.

“There!” yells a kid from a window seat, covered in chocolate from a partially devoured muffin and bouncing on the cushion. He presses both his hands to the cleaned window, as if he can phase right through it if he pushes himself hard enough. “There! It’s a car!”

“Where? I wanna see!”

“Is it The Prince?”

“The Prince! Move I want to see!”

Remus barely has time to brace himself before there are people pressing up against him, strangers shoving and pushing and yelling and trying to get to the window to see exactly what is going on. Remus himself leaves a nice face print to the glass that he suspects the long suffering employees are going to have blast cleaning later.

Assuming that the shop is still standing after all this.

Someone’s elbow goes into Remus’s spine and for a second Remus blinks and there’s a guy standing over him, pressing a hand to his pulse, and the manager at the front desk of their hotel is screaming again. Remus hisses out a harsh breath that fogs up the window and scrubs the thought, the concept, the memory from his mind. Because he’s not dead, he’s not dying, he’s not on the hood of a car. And the last thing he needs is to forget that.

The car that the kid had pointed out was actually a caravan of cars: black nondescript SUVs with tinted windows and tires thick enough to be bulletproof. The type of cars celebrities and CEOs and politicians ride around in when their limos are being deep cleaned. The crowd blockers leave more than enough room for the cars to parade through the street right to the stage. Someone outside even sets off a confetti cannon so it rains red and gold and white paper through the air.

Remus grinds his morals together and shoves himself backwards, knocking into about six more people who are swarming for his spot so quickly, so frantically, so vehemently, that Remus doesn’t actually make out any of their faces or forms or bodies. The whole shop was swarmed with people, but now all the bodies were pressed against the street windows and Remus thinks if they were on a boat, they would have capsized. He tugs the front of his leather jacket to straighten it and elbows his way through the front doors and out into the street.

Outside it’s not much easier to see anything. The cheering crowd is the most annoying thing ever. Although the hand made signs people are waving are a close second. Remus fights the urge to knock several of them out of people’s hands because the crowd control are watching like hawks and--

-- “HEY! HEY!” one of the uniformed guys yells at him. Remus flips him the bird, and because he’s so busy laughing at the guy he misses the sign holder’s left fist coming for his face.--

-- “HEY! HEY!” one of the uniformed guys yells at him. Remus flips him the bird, and because Remus knows better now he manages to dodge the incoming fist and drive his elbow up under his attacker’s guard and right into his diaphragm. There’s an exhilarating feeling flowing through him as the crowd around him jostles and shouts and falls to chaos in a way that completely derails the plan Dee worked so hard to put together.--

--Remus tears himself back to the present, stumbling slightly over a swaying ground. He coughs into his fist as his body is checked by a passerby into the outside wall of the coffee shop. There are flecks of red, so small Remus wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t looking for them. That’s good, that’s great, that’s fine.

He’s fine.

The crowd pulses and the volume of dissonant cheering increases tenfold. Remus wipes his hand on his thigh and looks up to see over through the crowd for what was happening, although he already has a good idea. The cars must have completed their slow circuit and the doors of one of them must have popped open for the guest of honor to step out.

Another burst of confetti shoots out filling the air with white pieces of paper that almost look like snow. Remus ignores them mostly as he slips through the crowd in ways that his body probably shouldn’t be able to move: under an elbow here, passing a shoulder there, winking at the college student his face is three inches from as he scoots between him and an older woman with a crying child on her hip. He feels his spine crack more than he hears it as he moves.

He makes it to the crowd barriers with an impressive number of bruises, a bit of coffee from an off balanced teenager, and a scrap where someone hit him with one of those stupid signs. He’s close enough to the stage that his skin itches, that his throat burns, that his toes curl; the Prince isn’t even looking his way but Remus thinks that the white of his super suit would look excellent covered in his blood. There’s a rapier at his side that glistens in the sunlight, silver and shining and ready for use although Remus has yet to see him actually use it as a weapon rather than a fancy prop.

The Prince is an actor on a stage waving to his fans, a red herring meant to distract everyone from the implications of the FBE headquarters right behind him. He blows a kiss to the crowd and Remus gets the urge to punch his face again.

Instead he presses up against the barrier wall, hooking his arms around the metal bars to hold himself in place and watches with his tongue in his cheek. He nods at the techie standing on the other side: a guy with hefty headphones, bright purple hair, and a mouth mask with an anime character on it from a show Remus vaguely recognizes. The guy squints at him suspiciously for a moment but ultimately just shrugs and goes back to writing something in a pocket notebook and leaning against the side of a News Crew van he presumably works for.

On stage, The Prince approaches the podium waving still and smiling twice as broadly as before. Remus isn’t sure how anyone can look at him and think “safety” when his charming show of teeth also makes it look like his mouth was going to split his entire head open. A police line-up stands along the wings of the stage, like he’s a real prince about to address a nation.

Someone Remus doesn’t recognize is also on the stage in a suit. The Prince grins and shakes the guys hand like they’re old friends. They pose for a camera flash for a moment, sharing a laugh that can’t possibly be that funny, and the new techie rolls his eyes so hard his head shakes. Another person from the crew joins him standing side-by-side and they share a short conversation that leaves the one with the headphones glaring.

The guy on stage claps The Prince on the back and offers him the podium with microphones before stepping back clapping enthusiastically.

Remus thinks boredly that it would have been funnier if Dee were up there, dressed up in a stranger’s skin and stepping back only so that The Prince never gets to see the knife Dee shoves in his neck. But Remus knows Dee better than that; he’d never kill, and he'd definitely never deliver a fatal blow when his victim didn’t know his name.

(Remus wonders distantly, when he realized how much names meant to Dee. Was it before Dee offered up his name at that casino? Or later when Dee was breathing into Remus’s mouth and Remus was trying to figure out what was wrong with himself? Dee wanted people to know his name, wanted people to remember him when he left, wanted them to recognize him-- but he also didn’t and Remus isn’t sure how to solve that puzzle yet so he sticks it in the back of his mind to work on when its just the two of them alone in a hotel room in the dark.)

The Prince winks to someone in the crowd and finishes his last wave. Remus glances back at the line of SUVs but no one else comes out of them-- which isn’t that weird? Remus seems to recall the Prince being very specific that he had a team and a partner and yet he’s up there all alone receiving all the glory.

Of course they could just be shy, but based on how little information there actually is about the team and partner existing, Remus thinks that maybe it’s a farce meant to placate children’s dreams of being on a super team with their super hero!

(Remus is not alone in this thinking either. Dee’s favorite website called AnxiTEA has several dozen articles written about how The Prince sucks and that he’s just doing all this for publicity and recognition-- along with a carefully worded warning that if The Prince begins losing either of those things, he’s most likely going to become feral and turn on them all.)

Remus adjusts the earpiece in his ear just as The Prince opens his mouth to start off that particularly exciting, bold, inspiring speech of his. But before he gets more than a syllable out, a shadow floods from overhead.

The crowd collectively gasps and screams, spreading apart in every which direction; Remus lets out a hefty groan as the guy next to him bowls into his shoulder and he nearly flings over the fence. The techie on the other side drops his little notebook in shock, and his friend pulls out a phone immediately.

The shadow sweeps downward through the air like the largest bird in history. Remus laughs as he watches, Dee’s wings glisten with black wings that glisten yellow when the sun reflects off them. In fact just watching him, Remus has a hard time believing that Dee didn’t grow up with wings attached to his back. He makes floating and flying and landing look graceful, ethereal, easy and breathless and exhilarating. Dee lands on the stage due left of The Prince, safely with his knees bent to absorb the shock. When he stands back up, his blond hair flows slightly in the kickback wind and his trustable dark eyes sparkle.

(He went with the black and yellow color scheme. That had been Remus’s favorite option. The black of his suit makes the shimmers of gold look expensive, dangerous, and untouchable. Although, Remus is a little biased on the front that he always thinks Dee looks dangerous and untouchable. He’s a caution sign, a warning, and Remus can’t wait for The Prince to ignore it.)

“Hello,” Dee says and Remus thinks he can hear his barely concealed laughter over all the crowd's confused chaos. The police line behind The Prince lurch into movement at the sound of his voice, but the hero himself throws out an arm and stops them where they stand with hands on their tasers.

Dee raises an eyebrow, a polite expression on his face. And the Prince mirrors him.

“Oh wonderful!” the hero says in a confident tone, in a reassuring tone, in a placating tone that tells the audiences watching that there’s nothing to fear from the black winged Angel that just descended down on them like a herald of Death. Dee’s eyes shine with amusement that Remus can pick out even from over here. “Another friend like me!”

The Prince offers a hand to Dee, a handshake. Remus digs his teeth into his tongue as he watches Dee take it from above, like he’s royalty allowing the poor publicity prince to greet him.

“Not quite like you, my dear Prince,” Dee says. “If the wings weren’t a dead give away already.”

The Prince’s lips tighten. Remus thinks that his expression screams “calculating”. He looks at Dee like he’s still trying to figure out if he’s a friend or foe, and Dee’s body language offers no hints at all.

Or well, maybe a few hints. Remus can see it, because he can see Dee: the tilt of his head is a challenge, the light in his eyes is condescending, the openness of his body facing the crowd speaks in volume of who he’s actually there for. Remus can read every bit of Dee and it sends a shiver down his back to realize.

The crowd bobs and murmurs, unsure of what to do with the surprise visitation. Several camera flashes go off like someone is trying to prove to themselves that the wings are real. The techie on the other side of the barrier reaches up and hooks a finger over his mouth mask as if he’s debating ripping it off to breathe easier. Remus digs his chin into the metal bars of the crowd barrier and wishes he had some popcorn.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Prince,” Dee says silky smooth.

“Good things I hope,” The Prince says back. “I would love to sit down and have a conversation with a fan as elegant as yourself, but I really must be getting back on schedule. I’d be happy to sign somethin--”

Dee laughs pleasantly, although Remus thinks he should be swinging to dislodge the superheroes head from his neck.

“You are a riot!” Dee takes a few steps forward. “You think I’m up here to get your autograph?”

The Prince’s eyes narrow slightly. “Aren’t you?”

Dee flexes his wings just as slightly, letting them shimmer so beautifully for the crowd up front to see. “Oh no. I must confess I’m not much of a fan at all. I’d really much rather skip to the debate portion of this.”

“The debate,” The Prince repeats like he hasn’t ever heard the word before. Remus half expects him to snap at that guy behind him to offer up a dictionary so he can read the Webster definition before he responds. But in the end the Prince merely moves his arm back and settles his right hand on the hilt of his rapier.

“I’ve been fascinated by you, Prince,” Dee continues, gliding around him and stretching his wings so that the police line is forced to take another step back or get bumped. Dee circles the hero much like a snake starting to coil around its prey before the final strike. He’s slow and methodical and Remus doesn’t think anyone can look away from him. He knows he can’t. “They call you a superhero. The first real life one to walk the streets.”

The Prince follows Dee’s motions with his head. “I have no control over what the media says.”

Dee gives him another condescending look. Remus thinks it’s eerily similar to the ones that his teachers used to give him when Remus insisted that the other kids shoved him on the playground when he did nothing to them first.

“Of course you don’t,” Dee says. “The media can be rather misleading at times. After all they said that my way of handling an out of control child with an arbitrary grasp on fire was fallible. Incorrect. Deplorable.” Dee stops just over the Prince’s left shoulder and tilts his head. “Villainous.”

The Prince blinks, stiffening.

“Oh,” he says. “You were the one at the mall. In Idaho.”

“Yes,” Dee says. “And if I had done nothing, that child would have continued to operate under the impression that killing is an acceptable punishment for petty thievery. And yet I’ve received nothing but bad press, criticisms, insults for what I did while you get praise and recognition from your… adoring fans. I would say that’s quite unfair don’t you think?”

The Prince’s nose twitches. Remus watches his hand on his rapier tighten, but he refrains from drawing and making the first blow in front of a billion witnesses. The cameras couldn’t draw away even if they tried.

“Perhaps if you had tried talking first, rather than jumping straight to violence--”

Dee tuts and presses a hand to his chest. “I so do love how much you know about what happened there! With all the completely accurate information and that confident tone you’re wielding, my prince, one might be convinced that you had been there and watched that child nearly kill three innocent people after I attempted the talking part first.”

The Prince’s jaw set.

“Oh? Nothing to say?” Dee lowers his chin to look The Prince dead in the eyes. “The truth is that the child in question decided to attack a man robbing a previously insured jewelry store-- most likely out of desperation-- and decided to attempt to burn him alive. The action of which nearly killed me and my… partner if it hadn’t been for a spot of good luck. Then when I attempted to help preserve the criminal from the life threatening third degree burns he was suffering, the child called me a villain and demanded I and another brave bystander back away from the man so that he could die.”

Dee’s eyes flash blue and green and then a cold steel blue before they settle back on the silent superhero. “You and your original way of thinking are an inspiration to us all.”

The Prince’s face twitches again, the whole thing this time, twisting into a not-very-nice expression for just the briefest of seconds before he remembers that there’s a captive audience watching this play out. He takes a deep steadying breath and lets it out again.

“I apologize,” he says. “I jumped to a conclusion. You made an acceptable call in the face of a diffic--”

“I made the only call,” Dee inserts harshly. “And I don’t want your apology. Words mean nothing.”

“What are you here for then?” The Prince asks, and Remus can’t help the feral smile that etches across his features. He leans forward as far as he can without tipping the fence because he doesn’t want to miss a single second of this.

“Oh, that would be simple,” Dee says. “I want you to explain to the world, why you are trying to get hundreds of people killed.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I don’t suppose you would.” Dee says. “I can’t imagine that you’ve had to do a lot of critical thinking these past few weeks.”

The Prince scowls and opens his pretty little mouth, but Dee waves him off with a clandestine motion. There’s a delicious looking smirk on Dee’s lips: something that Remus thinks he can spend all day staring at. He’s having fun up there with all the attention on him, having fun with people hanging on his every word, having fun leading The Prince around like a dog on a leash. A showboat, a leader, an actor-- but Dee’s the director too, telling the cameras where to point and what to frame because this is his show, even if no one else realizes it yet.

“I’ve been following the FBE for a while now. You can imagine that as someone with an ability I tend to be interested in politics that directly affect me, as all good upstanding Americans should.” Dee flutters his wings a bit again. “However, I can’t imagine why anyone-- certainly not someone with the brains such as yourself-- would purposely align yourself to their less than noble intentions. They aim to take advantage of people like us, and you are using your… well earned celebrity status to convince the people that this is acceptable. Good, even! Surely you don’t truly believe that the FBE and Madam Secretary of Defense have your best interests at heart?”

The Prince shifts his weight around, looking for all intents and purposes like he was ready to leap across the stage and make Dee eat his own words, in the end he just settled back down.

“I do actually,” The Prince says. “I’ve been working with them for a while-- all of my team has. Madam Witchall has been a great help in getting this project on its feet so that the FBE can provide aid to--”

"I guess what it boils down to is this," Dee says, steam-rolling everything else the Prince might have wanted to say. Remus can pick the irritation out of his clipped tone, simmering under the guise of being passion rather than anger. "How much do you trust your government? How much faith do you put in people, Princeps?

"This is, after all, the same congregation that sends military recruiters to the more impoverished schools in America and hounds kids until they believe that their only option to get into college is to sign up for the military. Is that what they did to you as well? Convinced you, you were dangerous and unable to control yourself and that they could help you?"

The Prince’s jaw tightens so hard that even Remus can see it from where he’s standing. He wants to laugh, but he puts his hand in his mouth instead. The crowd is murmuring, mesmerized by the sheer audacity of this shapeshifter to show up and question the morals of their beloved hero. It would be funny, if Remus doesn’t close his eyes and see Dee’s charred corpse from that kid at the mall not so long ago whenever he tries to sleep.

Hero idealization was a dangerous thing. It needs to be nipped in its bud before it strangles everyone; luckily there’s no one better with a pair of shears than Dee.

"I do believe that’s none of your business," The Prince says.

"But it is," Dee coos just a bit too sweetly. His words come out slick with honey. "Because you are also a person of ability and I happen to care a great deal about people with abilities."

"We have a duty to those less fortunate than--"

"We--" Dee cuts him off sharply “--do not have a duty to anyone for anything."

He takes a breath, recenters himself, and when his eyes open again, they’re a piercing green that pins the hero to place on the stage for everyone to see. "In case you’ve forgotten, my dear Prince, we are mere humans, too. Not everyone wants to grow up to punch each other in the face. Some of us would like to live a normal life, without being forced into superhero dramatics."

His easy dismissal is inviting danger to come knocking. Remus likes that about him, the fearlessness. Did it come from after he had met Remus, or was it something Dee had grown up with? A symbol of faith in Remus’s abilities or a symptom of delusion? The mystery is tantalizing on Remus’s--

--tongue. Remus savors the taste of it with a grin. It’s so much better than blood, so much better than slushies, so much better than french toast and eggs and only one step down from the taste of actually kissing Dee.

Remus blinks, pressing against the barrier, his eyes catching sight of something else amongst the crowd although he isn’t sure what it is at first. A flash of a camera? A pushing shoving motion? It's something and Remus tries to follow it but it’s gone in the next half blink and he’s not sure what it was at all.

Then everyone is screaming and the crowd is in chaos and Remus gets slammed into the barrier again and shoved along it for a sharp second before he hits the ground. The noise roars over his thoughts, over his breathing, over his ability to comprehend anything that’s not how he’s being stepped on by careless bystanders fleeing the streets. Someone trips over him, someone steps on his ankle, someone kicks the back of his head and his lungs burn and his eyes itch and he knows he missed something---

--Tongue. Remus savors the taste with a hint of confusion. It’s better than blood that’s in his throat, than slushies in his memories, than french toast and eggs and only one step down from actually kissing Dee.

Remus blinks, pressing against the barrier, his eyes catching sight of something else amongst the crowd although he isn’t sure what it is at first, and doesn’t bother caring, because something else is happening and he needs to know what it is that causes the crowd to splinter apart like shattered glass. Dee is talking on stage, winding up the toy Prince to dance to his tune, and Remus is watching with his heart in his throat and unable to hear a word of it.

Then Remus blinks and Dee is not standing on stage because the shapeshifter’s body is morphing exactly the way it shouldn’t be. The crowd screams, and Dee’s eyes are empty in a way that Remus has seen a million times and abhors unlike anything else in the world.

Dee is not standing on stage because he’s actually fallen off it onto the asphalt ground below and there’s a spray of red mist in the air where he had been standing before. Remus is body-checked into the crowd barrier, and skimmed along it, until he hits the ground and feels himself get trampled over, but it doesn’t matter because he knows what he saw.

Dee is not standing on stage because he’s dead with a bullet in his head from---

---Tongue. Remus does not savor anything about the taste because whenever he closes his eyes the only thing he can see is Dee’s dead body and the only thing he can feel is copper clawing its way up his throat with the blind terror.

Remus leaps over the barrier, causing everyone around him to yell. The techie with the purple bangs in particular jumps back, but Remus ignores them in favor of watching, because Dee hasn’t seen him and doesn’t know what's coming and Remus wants to scream at the top of his lungs because watching Dee die never gets any easier to see.

It’s a bullet to the head. From the right temple through his brain at a downwards angle and Remus feels the blood sprinkle over him like sea spray straight from his darkest nightmares. He barely even notices, barely recognizes it, barely cares about it at all, because the next thing he knows Dee’s body is following it down right into Remus’s arms and unseeing blue-grey eyes stare at an empty sky.

The Prince is there too, mouth open and horrified, and even though everyone is screaming Remus can hear him start to say a phrase, a word, a syllable, “Re--”---

--Tongue. Remus’s mouth tastes like blood and absolutely nothing else because Dee is going to die from a shot through the head from a sniper, a shooter, an asshole and Remus thought maybe that Dee was over exaggerating before with his whole “the government is going to turn us all into weapons or eliminate us” rhetoric, but Remus thinks that he should have paid attention a little harder. Listened a little more. Believed a little better.

He stares at the building behind them, the library that’s being passed off as the FBE and the dark tinted windows that make the upper floors look abandoned completely. It’s like watching….it’s like…. it’s …

There’s a flash, a flicker. Then a heartbeat and then Dee is dying, dying, dead all alone and Remus feels himself body-checked back by a faceless person in the crowd and tossed to the ground to be trampled to death too.---

--tongue. Remus spits blood out of his mouth curling in on himself to stop anyone else from seeing because fuck him. He presses two fingers to his ear piece and pretends poorly that his throat doesn’t feel like someone took a pack of razor blades to it.

“Sniper shot, fourth floor, third window over,” Remus rasps. His heart pounds in his throat, in his skull, behind his eyes in a way that makes him want to tear his skin off to get the feeling to stop. Blood floods over his fingers, smearing on his chin, and across his sleeves no matter how hard he tries to get rid of it.

“One minute, forty seconds,” Remus coughs, and stares at the drips that hit the lower half of his shin, the toe of his boots, the asphalt.

Dee doesn’t react. Not at all and Remus wants to scream because he can feel time passing and he can’t stop the future from happening. He can’t, he can’t he can’t he can’t--

"You heard me, right?" Remus says maybe a little hysterically, because fuck, if they got this far and their mics weren’t even working and Remus just got the only person who ever mattered to him killed on live TV.

At this distance, Remus doesn’t know if he can make it, but even if he does, even if he tackles Dee down from the stage and the bullet misses them both it will go straight into the crowd, and there are people in this crowd-- people with lives, with families, with friends. They might have abilities, or they might not, but once that shot is fired the entire street will become a riot. Remus can hear the screams in his ears, ringing there so loudly it makes the present sound like a graveyard.

"I hear you," Dee says airily, acting like he’s talking to the superhero, but the words loosen the knot in Remus's chest, because he changed his speech, changed his stance, changed how much he knows about the future and now things will be different. The Prince eyes him rightfully warily, because Dee’s biggest weapons are knowledge and words.

"I hear you,” Dee says again directly to the hero, “I hear that you’ve been brainwashed into thinking that you owe something to the people who helped you control your ability, but the truth is… you could have done it without them, on your own. You certainly have the brains and the intuition for it."

He offers a hand out to the hero, casually, fluidly, and Remus almost laughs. He thinks if he opens his mouth again then only thing that will come out is blood and the people next to him will definitely notice that.

"Come with me, Prince of the People," Dee says right as the sniper lines up the shot. "Let’s discuss a better way to protect innocen--"

The gunshot is silent. Remus almost misses it in the collective intake of breath from every living thing in a ninety mile radius. Dee’s hand is out and the bullet catches the sunlight in a brilliant single flash.

-- through his brain at a downwards angle and Remus feels the blood sprinkle over him like sea spray straight from his darkest nightmares. He barely even notices, barely recognizes it, barely cares about it at all, because the next thing he knows Dee’s body is following it down right into Remus’s--

Dee’s skin ripples, his wings disappear. At this distance, Remus can’t tell what it turns into, what he impersonates, what he becomes that can fend off a bullet, but in the end it doesn’t matter at all because The Prince leaps forward with his sword drawn.

Remus blinks and the world feels like it tilts on its axis, spinning faster under his feet. He hugs the crowd barrier to steady himself. That… that isn’t possible. This isn’t what he saw. But there it is: The Prince wraps himself between Dee and the bullet, and draws his rapier so quickly that Remus almost misses it happening. It shouldn’t be possible-- It can’t be possible, but he’s faster than the bullet and somehow the piece of metal veers off trajectory into the stage at their feet and embeds itself there.

“That’s--” Remus’s breath catches, clumping up in a knot in the back of his throat that tastes a lot like blood.

The people in the crowd scream, the people near the front shove to move back, to get away, to find shelter and safety from bullets that were only targeting one man on stage. The police guard springs into actions that Remus can’t focus on because he’s so busy trying to remain upright when gravity is trying to drag him straight down to Hell.

“Are you alright?” The Prince asks, lowering his rapier.

“I--Dee--” Remus stutters.

“Was that... going to hit me…?” Dee asks in a tone that suggests that all the oxygen left the atmosphere.

“I don’t-- I can’t--” Remus swallows a mouth full of blood and it goes down his throat like thick, slow slugs trying to suffocate him. “I swear--”

“Have no fear,” The Prince says. “I’ll protect you. As long as I’m here, no harm will come to you. You have my word.”

“Re,” Dee says. He sounds like he’s several distant planets away. Remus’s hands are red and sticky and he swears if he closes his eyes that he can feel the misty spray of grey matter over his face when Dee falls from the stage, when his body lands in Remus’s arms, when those empty eyes stare up at him and see none of the grief in Remus’s eyes.

“I watched you,” Remus chokes.

He saw it. He knows he saw it and it was real and Dee died and Remus was left all alone like every nightmare he’s ever had. Dee died up on stage in front of the whole world and Remus saw his whole world shatter.

It happened.

“You can’t see the future, Remus!” Roman yelled four years ago and Remus has proved him wrong a hundred billion times over since then. He shouldn’t have to keep reminding himself of that.

“You died,” Remus says. “You died and I watched and I’m sorry-- I’m sorry, sor--”

“That’s all I needed to know, darling,” Dee tells him.

“Pardon?” The Prince asks, realizing maybe for the first time that Dee isn’t talking to him.

“You’re clever, Prince,” Dee says loudly, and Remus hears him so clearly in his earpiece it stabilizes him even when the world spins under his feet. Dee shoves himself out of the hero’s hold, stepping back twice, and looking downright murderous. “Far more clever than I gave you credit for! Did you just try to have me shot? Killed? All so you could look like the dashing hero on screen?”

“What?” the hero says and because he’s an actor Remus almost believes that he’s confused and not threatened.

“You just tried to kill me!” Dee snarls. “In front of all these people?! Because I dared ask a few questions about your motives?!”

The Prince stares at him, and Remus imagines his insufferable mouth is twitching into an awkward smile, like this is a joke that he doesn’t understand but doesn’t want to be rude.

“I assure you that is not the case here,” he says. “In fact I believe it’s far more likely that you arranged to have yourself attacked on this stage to emphasize a point on your part. I suspect you might have some type of protection against bullets, but even if you did I could not stand idle when there is a chance of you being hurt.”

“How noble,” Dee says. “Throwing yourself in front of everyone and asking nothing in return no matter the situation. A true hero complex.”

The Prince’s grip on his rapier tightens, but he says nothing.

“You say such pretty words, Prince,” Dee says. “Tell such convincing lies. You want people to step up and join you in a game of play pretend without realizing there are deadly consequences when abilities get out of control. You want people to follow you, to sing your praises, to believe you can do no wrong…. You’re the hero, of course! They’ll be so enamored with you, they won’t notice you leading them straight off a cliff.”

For a second the world stops turning, time stops passing, the crowd stops moving. Remus feels every atom in the air pressing up against him, itching, pulling, compressing against his skin as his heart pounds in his chest like some type of creature trying to escape his ribcage. There’s a ringing in his ears made from the silence between Dee and The Prince and it’s louder than any scream that the crowd makes, any gunshot a sniper takes, any calm Dee fakes.

“And I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Dee offers a complimentary shrug and then he launches across the stage, aiming for The Prince’s throat.

[Chapter Seven]

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inconsistentenigma · 3 years

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Metal Family Headcanons That Either Haven't Made It In My Fanfics Yet, Not Sure If They Will Or Weren’t Clear So I Will Put Them Here

Glam

Doesn't drink often, never smokes.

Learned to cook since he hated eating fast food all the time.

Can't sing for his fucking life but still enjoys doing it for fun.

Plays nearly every instrument but prefers strings.

Loves Musicals and Ballet.

Works out for heart health only. Heart disease runs in his family and he doesn't want to get sick (Rest in Hell Gustav S.)

Excellent money management skills.

Rides and has his own motorcycle but doesn't use it too often. Prefers taxi’s or Vicky driving.

Has night terrors. Takes medication for insomnia.

Vicky

Stopped going to school after age 7.

Could not give a single fuck about her kids' grades. Pretends to when Glam's around.

Makes it a point to hang out with her kids often. Either separately or together. But does make a point to have 1 on 1 time with them. Usually they go out to eat.

Surprisingly patient with her kids if they are learning something new. But is harsh if they're just being stupid/fooling around.

Can’t read well but listens to a lot of audiobooks and podcasts about certain things. A bit embarrassed by that.

Has known Bug since forever. They have a very complicated on and off relationship (until she meets Glam.) No one really knows the specifics of it except for her, Anna and Bug.

Sings one lullaby to her kids. The traditional Bayu Bayushki Bayu. Her brother sang that song to her.

Bisexual but prefers men.

Ches

Trans. Has had top surgery but not bottom surgery. It's just a risk he doesn't wanna take.

Sprained his vocal chords so bad he had to stop performing.

Lowkey an alcoholic. Getting better.

Highkey a pot head. Not getting better.

Plays guitar, bass, piano and the harmonica.

Was an amazing singer. Still sings now but voice is super rough and hurts if he does it for too long.

Played lullabies for Dee and Heavy from babies to toddlers. Their favorite was “Don’t Cry” by Guns and Roses.

Was Glam’s best man at his wedding.

Is the Godfather of Dee and Heavy.

Glam bought him the record shop and the flat after the band split up.

Dee

Has OCs.

Heavy drew one of his MLP OCs as a birthday gift. Dee still has it and is very touched but never shows it.

Needs glasses but doesn’t wear them. Prefers contacts.

Not a creative person but wishes he was. Wants to draw, write, and play music but lacks the natural skills to do so right away.

Suffers from gifted kid burn out hard.

Wants to be liked so bad but has a hard time connecting with people and opening up.

Only person in the family to not like Blondes or Redheads. Prefers brunettes or wild colored hair.

Used to hate his freckles till they came in style. Now he’s super proud of them.

Straight but gets Bi wife energy once he gets with Emily.

Used to have a childish crush on Ches when he was really young.

Heavy

Loves to go exploring in the woods alone. Gravity Falls inspired trips.

Amazing artist. Works best with traditional painting but gets into digital art in his adult years.

Made a shitty pentagram in the forest that almost made Dee nearly piss himself laughing when he saw it. It was that bad.

Believes in a lot of mysteries/the supernatural. Listens to podcasts and watches shitty supernatural tv shows with his mom.

Eventually will become friends with Gopher but never ask them to pick music on a car ride. A lot of fighting and rants will ensue.

Dates pretty late in life. Has strong preference for girls but first person he dates is a guy.

Gets beaten up on the daily. He has at least one bruise and cut somewhere on his body at all times.

A natural flirt and ladiesman.

#metal family #add on your own

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kingofthehilltoday · 3 years

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King of the hill review s1e1 "Pilot"

(I'm gonna start watching koth and typing these out season by season, depending on my work schedule/metnal healt will depend on how often I put them out, with the occasional single episode ones like this one which I've already typed up so much for. A lot of people seemed to like just the Meer idea of this so im gonna finish this one and post it)

We're introduced to the main characters surrounding a truck with the hood up. The first lines of dialogue they have in the series is their iconique "yep" "yep" "yep" "mhm" followed by a short silence (aside from the alcohol consumption).

Bill is the one to break the silence and demonstrates his understanding of automobile engines.

He is followed by Dale who demonstrates himself as an idiot. "Ford stands for: Fix It Again Tony."

Boomhauer, who without subtitles i wouldn't have been able to understand, also demonstrates he understands automobiles.

Hank who does not have the courtesy of subtitles does not understand what Boomhauer says and brushes him off and instead dribbles on about George Bush in Japan? This establishes his conservativeness/dumbness (if there's that much of a difference between the two.)

Hank grabs more beer and Dale breaks off into asking about a new episode of Seinfeld dating the beginning of the show.

Boomhauer immediately starts squaking about it.

This episode of Koth aired January 12 1997, although it doesn't seem to take place in a winter month. Most likely a spring one. I want to say the episode that Boomhauer is talking about is The Wig Master (April 4, 1996) as it is an episode that features Kramer and Kramer is the subject of Boomhauers tangent.

Boomhauer ends his giggling with "Just a show about nothin." And the theme song begins to play. A good introduction into what King of the Hill is about, and so far a great way to start the show off.

Theme song ends and Hank enters Bobby's room, despite Bobby telling him he wouldn't like it Hank decides to listen to Bobby's music to find: he doesn't like it. Admittedly because it isn't music (which Hank claims to like new generation music) but because instead it's just a fart? Bobby for some reason just listens to farts.... I guess this does establish that the boy ain't right....

Hank leaves Bobby's room telling him to get ready for the game, which Bobby is clearly already dressed for?

Luanne shows she hasn't learned how to lock the bathroom door when Hank busts in to a fully toweled Luanne. He still avoids looking at her the entire time after the initial door opening. Luanne gives slight exposition by explaining her parents are currently fighting, giving her a reason to be in the Hill House.

Hank, Bobby, and Peggy pile into a car and head to the game. Peggy tells Bobby to do his best and Hank insists he should give it 110% instead of 100%. They then keep suggest 1% higher until Peggy says 13 is an unlucky number. The driving scene ends with Hank miffed saying "just give it 112%."

At the game Bobby shows his inability to play baseball and Hank shows how overzealous he is about getting Bobby to play. Bobby gets hit with a ball when he's not paying attention giving set up for future events within the episode.

Hank Hill stops at the Mega Lo Mart for WD-40. Its not that important that I mention the WD-40. I just like the way he says Dubya Dee Fordy.

Two gossips see Hank interact with Buckley (who doesn't seem to recognize Hank, let alone where he even is in the store) along with Bobby who has a black eye following close behind him.

As Hank gets more and more frustrated with Buckley, Bobby begins swinging a cardboard tube around like a baseball bat. The gossips see Hank with his temper and wonder if he gave Bobby the black eye (theyre voiced by Nancy and Peggy without changing the voices even a little bit). Bobby swings the bat a little too close to some cans and knocks them over prompting Hank to scream YOU'RE FIRED (???? who gave Hank the authority???) at Buckley when he tells Hank that he'll have to pay for the damages.

The two gossips' words spread around and eventually get to the erroneously named Arlen County Child Protective Services (I suppose Heimlich County hasn't been established yet). And we're introduced to Anthony Page whos proportions make him look like he's in the wrong cartoon.

We cut back to hank and friends and Dale goes on his rant about Glo-Bal warming. He says we'll grow oranges in Alaska. Hank calls him a giblet head and tells Dale he'll hold him personally responsible if Texas gets any hotter in the summer. His anger is further pushed by a thumping noise.

Which we see is Bobby playing ball in the house while watching TV. He accidentally smacks his mother in the face with it when she pauses to lament about a man on TV who had botched surgery.

Bobby is once again throwing the ball in the house, enter the social worker, and Hank fixing his truck. The sound distracts Dale from pointing the flashlight correctly which then causes Hank to screw up and the hood of his car to fall on him and Dale runs off instead.

"Hank is as gentle as a lamb," says Peggy followed by Hank barging in, grabbing the baseball and throwing it screaming, "STOP BOUNCING THAT BALL!" Note: the ball zoomed past Mr. Page and into the street making a glass shattering noise. What glass he could have shattered at that angle I'm not quite sure of.

After Tony insinuates the bruise on Peggy's head was caused by the same ball they told him hit Bobby in the eye, he asks if Bobby is their only child. Peggy manages to tell this random dude about Hank's narrow urethra and Hank gets loud.

Our Italian alien looking friend tells Hank "Loud is not Allowed." This sets Hank off on a rant about how he works for a living as opposed to writing down nonsense. This is the first mention of Hank's job selling Propane and Propane Accessories.

Hank's face turns visibly red as talks about his tax dollars going to fund... CPS? I understand that twig boy is very much not doing any actual investigation and is completely biased but... come on now Hank? Chuld protective services?? Anyways Hank asks for some B.C. Headache Powder and a glass of water. He then proceeds to yell at Anthony again and threatens him to get out before he gives HIM a black eye. Not the best choice of words there Hank. Also both of these rants are set to the National Anthem for some reason.

Our self proclaimed hero of this story then goes on to interview neighbors about Hank. Starting with Dale who is interrupted by Nancy leaving to get a headache treatment from John Redcorn. "You've been going to that healer for 12 years and you still get headaches every night." Imagine getting dicked down roughly 4380 days in a row.

After Nancy leaves it goes back to our city slicker asking if Hank has ever hit his child which Dale explains that Bobby is his pride and joy because of his Narrow Urethra. Very interesting world where Dale knows Hank has a narrow urethra but not that his own wife is cheating on him. Joseph is introduced and the paper white boy does a double take as he's the spitting image of John Redcorn.

Boomhauer has mistaken the defunct social worker as??? Someone whos there to do something about a barking dog? Once again if not for the subtitles I'd be lost on what he's saying but what the hell is he talking about. Our pencil pusher backs away slowly.

Bobby and Joseph are trying to get pebbles into the exhaust of the truck in the next scene, impressively they make a few shots. Joseph asks to reassure that Hank does not in fact hit him and Bobby confirms that Hank is all Bark and proceeds to mock the propane salesman. Joseph proceeds to try and while he's making fake threats in Hank's voice our Valiant Savior overhears and somehow mistakes his voice to actually be Hank's....

Cut to the actual Hank and he's found Luanne's panties. They're very cute pink ones. Peggy calls Luanne in to Hank's protests and she comes in crying and expositions about her mother attempting to stab her father with a fork then being sent to jail. She says her trailer was tipped over but does not elaborate as to how. Although she does say it will be on a TV show! Kind of wish theyd make an episode out of that alone.

Hank assures Luanne as best he can and lets her know she can stay with them until her mom comes home. Hank offers to let her use power tools to style a wig that was also damaged in the process of the trailer being flipped over. This immediately calms Ms. Platter.

A doorbell is heard and the Hills (minus Luanne) answer the door to find Our Holy King making his return to try to get our Poor Abused Child to come outside and go live with a family in North Arlen (not even gonna try to find somewhere in a different town??) Hank tries to offer him Luanne instead. The social worker makes an effort to try to get Bobby to come with him but Bobby clearly doesn't care or want to go. Hank chases him away and even hits his car, Ladybird making her first appearance running with him and barking at Anthony.

Mr. Page is confronted by his boss about not having found any actual abuse but recommending state custody. He called the entire neighborhood redneck city to a man with a strong country accent, bruh. The boss asks him if he talked to the little league coach, WHICH THE BOSS KNOWS BY NAME (Harvey) and our Los Angeles boy is sweatin fierce.

Cut back to Hank and Peggy with their ears covered they come outside to BOBBY WITH A STOP SIGN HE CUT DOWN USING A DRILL THAT HE'S HITTING WITH A HAMMER??? How did he get a Fucking Stop Sign??? Hank immediately yells at Bobby about this and Bobby calmly states back that Hank can't yell at him or the state will take him away. This frustrates Hank but he does his best not to outburst again after Bobby picks up the stop sign and runs away dragging it behind him.

Once inside the house Bobby answers a call from CPS, they inform him the case has been dropped and our boy from L.A. will be heading back home. He chooses not to tell his parents instead opting to tell them it was a wrong number. After this scene the stop sign is never seen again 😔.

Hank apparently makes bacon and mayo sandwiches. Hold the bacon grease. No wait he adds the bacon grease back. Luanne comes into the kitchen and demonstrates that she knows more about cars than any of the guys as she has fixed his truck's problem: a clogged fuel line.

We cut to Hank outside the garage asking Bobby to plug in a power tool in the garage, Robert (with Joseph in tow) agrees and does so but also grabs the opener and starts opening and closing the door on his father. Hank begins to yell again and Bobby reminds him that it isn't proper adult-child conversation. Hank settles down a bit and through gritted teeth asks Bobby to return it to factory setting of down and walks away. Joseph is very pleased by this.

We then see a montage of similar things happening in succession. Bobby knocking a fence down with a bat, dressing ladybird up and taking pics of her on his mower, and finally spraying Hank with a hose. As he does this the Anthony's ex boss comes over and knocks on the door.

We cut over to Bobby in his bed making sound effects. He is informed by Peggy that the man came over and told them the investigation was off. Bobby says he likes his father better this way he can "make him love me even when I screw up" and Peggy asks if he really thinks that.

Peggy is shown going into the bedroom (not really sure if this is their bedroom... there is a picture of cotton on the wall [pre shin loss] and it doesn't look like their bedroom in future episodes) and she insists Hank vocally tell Bobby that he loves him. Hank explains that he can't do that "you know how I was raised" followed by a flashback of a young Hank and a shinless Cotton telling Hank not to cry about his knee scrape.

Hank heads out to the porch to talk to Bobby who is sitting on lawn furniture. And Hank stumbles over words trying to explain to Bobby that he cares for him. Bobby doesn't understand and Hank makes some weird voice cracking sound. "You.... family." Hank then, after little bit more stumbling, manages to blurt out "ILoveYouNoMatterWhatYouDo." And then offers food.

Bobby asks if he's not a disappointment and Hank assures him that he's proud of him and cares for him. He then play fights with Bobby and the city boy sees it and proclaims he was right but is cut off by another passenger and says "never mind." And the episode fades to black. Cue theme song.

The quoted line at the end of the episode is blank. This episode predates that tradition apparently.

Okay so now for some more of my own thoughts

I joked around a lot but I do see where the social worker is coming from on some level. He believed he was investigating a case of abuse. He just wasn't very smart about it. He really should have talked to the coach immediately after hearing about the baseball incident. Or literally anyone that could have been at the game that day. That's all it would have taken and he would have still have had a job. But it's a good thing he doesn't anymore because his own negligence could have separated a family.

I won't claim they're the most functional family. But if the most Hank does (up until this point, not gonna count that awful smoking ep just yet) is simply yell at Bobby then they're a much better family than I had growing up. Does Hank need to work on his anger issues? From this episode alone I'd say a solid Yes. He was a dick to a store employee which is very much not a cool thing to do. There was some justification in being angry at Bobby, I mean the kid tortured him at the end there, but he should have sought a better release than the one he had.

Overall I'd say this is a really good episode to start the series on, it's entertaining and funny and properly builds up the world.

#king of the hill #koth #hank hill #dale gribble #bill dauterive #luanne platter #peggy hill #bobby hill #long post

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oh-theatre · 4 years

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intruality bffs summer edition!

late night target runs where they end up staying out until almost midnight buying candy and then getting taco bell, of course including freeze baja blasts

getting up early and meeting up at a park near the creek for a morning picnic/dip in the water

Remus helps cheer Patton up when Logans parents force him to go on a three week trip to Europe

building forts and trying to constantly beat their previous record of how big

late nights watching community and other tv shows while snacking on candy

Remus and Logan surprise Patton for his birthday (june 10th) with a new puppy

going shopping with Remus for puppy stuff

for Remus’s birthday Patton actually surprises him not only with Dee (who was on a three month school trip that led into summer) but also an axolotl which Remus had been wanting forever

drive in movies with the two couples. Pat and Rem never waste an opportunity to throw popcorn at each other

College applications but they work together and do it at each other's houses

randomly yelling switch and then trading computers to look over each others essays

Patton confessing he actually wants to study in New York and getting into a fight with Logan so Remus just picks him up crying from the park and makes his night

Glaring at Logan the next day as he tries to apologize to Patton

Remus and Patton spending time to train Pats puppy for service dog training.

Planning celebratory parties for their boyfriends after they got early admission into new york

(said in previous post) They both got their scholarships at the same time and were across the school, but both hopped up and ran until they met in the middle and shared squealing excitement.

All of them excited to go to new york

During a planning/lunch session Patton starts having a panic attack because hes scared and stressed about new york and college and Remus actually lowkey surprises Roman by how he handles it, and it just shows how amazing their friendship is.

Logan takes a moment in private to thank Remus for that aswell as ask for tips or guidance for what he should do

No one notices but patton does when Remus joins for a hangout one day with a reddened face and shoulders.

He takes him aside and gently assures him its ok, clearly he had been picking at his skin so he just comforts him and tells him “When you feel like picking today, grab my hand” and he does

A giant pool party with the pair of them at Remus’s house

they spend a day trying out new drinks and recipes

Patton works really hard and sometimes he doesnt sleep, Remus will wake up grab him coffee and breakfast and then knock on his window.

cuddle movie nights!

They go on a trip to disney land and the surrounding parks in california, its alot of fun, they spend about two weeks and definitely blow out their savings

(when Pat returns to Logan with little mickey mouse ears Logan just kinda chuckles and bops them before greeting his boyfriend)

(Dee however rushes to Remus and embraces him, he wont admit it but he missed him alot)

theyre just the bestest of friends and really nothing could tear these nerds apart

#anyway i lov them and im sorry this sucks #intruality bffs au #intruality #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #logicality #remus sanders #janus sanders #demus #headcanon #write #writing

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

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Part two of my AU! You should start with But What If, Instead, or you may be a little confused. Or just dive in, that's cool too. Be a sexy rebel. It's what BJ would want.

He’s sixteen when green starts to grow on his face. He’s been dealing with the hair for years, now, and it’s mostly stable. Sure, he gets overwhelmed, and sure, it can still change quickly, but it’s not like when he was twelve and threw fits all the time that resulted in fire engine red. He wouldn’t say he’s the best at handling anger, for sure, for sure, for sure. That award will probably always go to his mother, Emily. But he’s gotten better at treating everything like a joke, which totally helps. Can’t get mad at what you don’t take seriously, right? It’s a philosophy that seems to frustrate his dad, who, in Betelgeuse’s opinion, takes everything way too seriously. Chuckster is lucky he’s got Emily to balance him out, or that case of stick in ass might have become terminal. So, yeah, alright, the green. He’s been growing facial hair lately, a thin pathetic little pencil mustache that nine year old Lydia calls his “creepo-stache,” and he’d be the first to admit, it’s pretty John Waters-esque, but it’s what he’s got, for now. That hair, of course, grows in green, and mixed with the corpse purple untertones he still hasn’t quite learned to glamour away convincingly, the effect is that he perpetually looks like he’s ready to put on a zombie remake of a 70’s porno. Metaphors sure are fun. At least the upper lip is starting to fill out, and the chin scruff has been on the rise, too, though he’s a far cry away from Charles’ majestic beard. He’s staring in his bathroom mirror after a shower, admiring his chubby, totally sexy self, when he notices a splotch of green on the left side of his nose. He smooshes his nose down a little with one hand, leans in closer, and squints. Must be somethin’ he ate? On his nose? For some reason? But then he notices there’s the same slight green color at his temples, too. He settles on scrubbing his face until his skin hurts a little, and when he’s done, he’s so flushed he can’t see the color, and assumes the matter is settled. And then a few days later, it’s darker. He’s sitting at dinner with the whole family, chewing with his mouth open to annoy Lydia, who gives him a swift kick to the shin under the table. “Now, if you ever hit me, and I find out about it,” he starts to tease, until he feels his mom flick his ear, and he turns to her. “You got some schmutz on your face, Bug. Come here.” Emily blots her napkin to her tongue, and then wipes at his nose, much to his chagrin. “Ew, seriously? Maaaaa,” he whines, but everyone at that table knows he’s soaking up the attention like a sponge. “I for sure feel so much cleaner with your spit smeared around my face, thank you so much, Emily Deetz.” Emily shooshes him and continues rubbing, but her napkin comes away clean. “Huh,” she glances down at it, and then back to the spot on the side of his nose, and squints. Lydia and Charles are leaning in too, now, and his sister grins. “There’s some on his forehead, mama, get him there,” and she’s successful in weaponizing their mother against him, because he hardly has time for a “Damn you-” before Emily is rubbing at the green stains on his temples, near his hairline. “What the heck is this, ink?” “I dunnoooo!” he winges, wiggling just enough to let her know he’s unhappy but not enough to flail and hurt her. When she finally relents and lets him go, a third hand sprouts from his back to pull the “hood” part of his black and white striped hoodie over his head, and he tightens the draw strings. “No more smearing spit on BJ, now, that part of dinner is done,” he says defensively, and Emily has the sense to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Bug,” she pats his head, and he hisses in response, but no one, not even him, takes that seriously anymore. It’s a few more days until there’s a break in the case. He’s standing upside down on his bedroom ceiling, concentrating on a certain riff on his ukelele, and Lydia is flopped on his bed, passively watching Coraline on the beat up vintage TV he and Charles spent last summer fixing up. “I can’t get this to sound right,” he complains to her, and in response,

she turns the movie up louder. “Oh, haha, my sister, the fuckin’ comedianne, she’ll be here all week, everybody,” and he flops on the mattress next to her, which makes her bounce a bit before they both settle. He’s laying on his back, ukulele on his chest, mumbling and strumming, and she’s on her stomach, watching that kinda horny scene where the nude old lady with the huge honkers unzips her fuckin’ skin, when she glances over at him. “Your face spots are fuzzy, now,” she comments. “It’s called a beard, short stack. Dad’s had one since you were five, you’d think-” “Shut up, dummy, I meant the schmaltz.” “You mean the schmutz. Different words mean different things.” “Whatever. Your nose is growing hair, like grandpa. It’s barforiffic.” He frowns, and sets the ukulele down besides his bed, and conjures himself a little hand mirror from his pocket dimension. Lydia’s breath hitches, because no matter how many years it’s been, she still loves that trick, the way it’s like he’s pulling something out of nothing. He stares at the splotches in his hand mirror, beholding his face in mock horror like that episode of the Twilight Zone, the one with the pig faced people. All other details aside, she’s right, the splotches are growing hair, sort of. It doesn’t feel exactly like hair, when he reaches an experimental finger to poke at it, it’s sort of.. He can’t describe it. Grassy? Not really hair, more like a short, fuzzy… “It’s moss,” he realizes, positioning the mirror to check his forehead, where the vegetation is growing softly there, too. “Gross. How often do you shower, you neanderthal?” Lydia scrunches up her nose at him. “Careful, or you’re getting a face full of demon pits when you’re tryna sleep tonight,” he bites back at her. “I shower a normal amount. Maybe..” sharp teeth worry his bottom lip as he thinks. “I’m showering too much?” “That can’t possibly be your take away from this.” “Well I don’t know, Ly-dee-uhh,” he drags out her name. “It’s not like I’ve got a handy dandy guide to being an undead demon thing tucked away that explains all the rules that come with bein’ me, okay? I’m just thinkin’, I could count as dead cause, ya know. No heartbeat. Dead people probably.. I mean plants might grow on em, right? Like if one was left murdered and unburied in th’ world, like in a damp forest, and surrounded by nature, maybe somethin’ would grow on their putrid, rotting corpse flesh?” Lydia sits up, and leans over him, pushing the hand mirror out of the way. “I’m picking this off of you so I don’t have to hear about it anymore,” she says, simply, and then uses her surprisingly strong kid strength to dig into the runny splotch on his left temple. She runs a nail up his skin, scraping at him, and he purrs in response, tongue flicking out of his mouth, snake like. “Big scary demon dead guy, and all it takes to tame him is a little bit of attention,” she teases, and he gives another half hearted hiss. “You’re like a cat, BJ.” When she’s finished, she cleans under her nails and looks pleased. “I think I got it,” she nods, and he checks in his hand mirror. They both watch in silence as the moss seems to instantly grow back. “Moooooom!” he whines, sitting up and tossing the hand mirror over his shoulder, where it disappears into nothing without touching the ground, tucked back safe in his pocket dimension. Emily pokes her head in a moment later. “Yeah, what’s up, Beej?” She’s got her long blonde hair all done in a neat bun, and there’s the slight tone of exasperation to her voice. “You kids aren’t fighting, right?” she asks, stepping into the room. “I am literally just sitting here,” Lydia motions to the tv, still displaying the stop motion exploits of her current idol and role model. “The green crap on my face, it’s moss!” Betelgeuse whines to her, outright ignoring her question to begin with. “I’m growing moss on my face, and Lyds scraped it off but it instantly grew back!” “It was kinda cool,” Lydia admits, not giving her older brother the satisfaction of looking at him when she says it. Emily,

meanwhile, puts a finger on her chin, and scrunches up her nose in thought. “Maybe.. Some weed killer might get rid of it?” she suggests, clearly unsure. “So you want me to drink POISON,” Betelgeuse instantly flops back on the bed, left hand thrown over his forehead, all dramatic. “Lured me into the family just to try and murder me years later, huh? You fooled me! With love!” He opens his eyes in time to see both Emily and Lydia rolling theirs. “You can’t just magic it away?” Lydia pokes the moss on his nose. “The way you did your last report card?” “Judas,” he hisses, dropping the glamour enough to glare at her with his snake slit amber eyes. “You did what?” ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` He’s back at school on Monday with a bandaid fix, which is literally a couple band aids across the spots, one plastered on his nose, the other one a large patch bandage on the spot on his temples where the green was growing in the most clearly. The bandages noticeably don’t blend in with his skin tone, despite touting themselves as flesh colored, because he’s got skin like a guy who never left his basement, and also is freshly fuckin’ dead. For extra cover, he’s wearing his “Guide” hat, a ratty gray policeman’s cap with a metal plate spelling out the word. Charles had bought for him from a Goodwill his first year up top. It does enough to hide the streaks of green, as long as he pulls it down a bit, and he’s not exactly known at school for being a style icon, so nobody thinks twice to see him wearing it, as he slips from the front seat of Charles’ car that morning. “Have a good day, son. Call me if.. If you need me,” Charles reminds him, and Lydia pipes up from the backseat. “Later, Bug beverage. Good luck.” She’s still feeling a bit guilty about snitching, apparently, because she blows him a kiss, which is super uncool and she clearly wants to take it back the second she’s done it, but he grins and pretends to catch it. “Later, family,” he closes the car door, and turns to face his day. School, he had learned a few years ago, is a uniquely breather torture experience thought up by the old to make the young loose out on their precious youths, there by getting back at them for being young and fun. That was his working theory all through his miserable first year of middle school, and high school is not disproving that theory in the least. He’s vaguely aware of the cliques that the breathers his age form, and there’s probably gossip about him, but for the most part, he’s just too weird for most of the humans his age to engage with him. He’s kind of got an aura, an indefinable something he can’t switch off, and it’s getting stronger the older he gets. Breathers are naturally more wary of him than they used to be. So yeah, he is the weird chubby kid in the striped hoodie and matching tripp pants, and under normal circumstances, he has to believe that would lead to bullying, but whatever ancient animal instinct these kids have, it tells them to steer clear of him. So school is, to put it frankly, lonely. It’s probably better to be mostly ignored than hated, he supposes, but that doesn’t make eating lunch in the quad by himself every day any less pathetic. He’s zoning out in first period, relaxing in his slacker seat in the back of the class, when things actually get interesting. Their teacher is a sort of slim, nervous looking man who teaches history, but right at that moment he’s announcing a new student. And it’s someone Betelgeuse recognizes, though he can’t place from where. The new boy, Kevin something Loh, apparently, is directed to take the only empty seat in the class, the seat right in front of Betelgeuse. As Kevin is walking down the aisle towards him, Betelgeuse is wracking his brain, trying to recall. Kevin is Asian, with high cheekbones and short black hair, carefully and deliberately styled. He’s also staring right at Betelgeuse. “You?” he whispers, sounding horrified. “Me,” Betelgeuse responds, propping his history book up on his desk and slumping down behind it, deciding he’s

fully content with napping this period away, and leaving this mystery unsolved. But Kevin is apparently worse at reading social cues than BJ is, because he’s still standing there, looming over Betelgeuse. “What are you doing here?” he hisses, sounding angry now, and Betelgeuse peaks up at him, amber eyes shining a faint amount from under the brim of his cap. “I am literally just sitting here.” “Mr. Loh, is there a problem?” their teacher askes, and the new kid whips around. “I refuse to sit next to this thing.” He points at Betelgeuse, who straightens up, a scowl playing across his features. “You wanna rephrase that?” the demon askes, gravely voice particularly dangerous sounding, because he’s NOT a thing. The humans all take note of the changing vibes in the room, growing uncomfortable. “Does someone want to switch with Mr. Loh, and sit in front of Mr. Deetz instead?” their teacher tries. The answer is silence. No one is giving up their seat next to friends to sit in front of the loner who smells like freshly dug grave dirt. “Well, then. Sit down, Mr. Loh. Mr. Deetz does not bite.” “But-” “Yeah, sit down, Kev, you’re interrupting my mid morning nap,” Betelgeuse scowls, fingers on his right hand twitching, and Kevin falls into his seat with a less than macho sounding yelp. From the glare he gets in return, he’s got a feeling Kevin’s not gonna be his new bff. When lunch rolls around, Betelgeuse finds his usual place in the quad, under the shade of a tree, and he’s about to summon forth his lunch from his little pocket dimension, when he hears a breather approaching from behind him. He’s sitting on the side that faces away from the main area, and all the happy friend groups enjoying their lunches and gossip, and towards the track field, cause if he’s gonna be sitting alone, at least he’s gonna get to watch boys and girls his age work up a sexy sweat. From a quick smell test he can tell the person approaching is Kevin. The guy reeks of some overly applied body spray mess, and it nearly puts him off his lunch. “What,” he groans, annoyed, not even looking back to address the other boy, and Kevin seems to freeze. He’d apparently thought he was being pretty sneaky. “Why are you following me?” is the first thing out of the new kid’s mouth, and that does actually cause Betelgeuse to turn and look at him, staring like Kev’s just proposed the earth is only round because Atlus keeps reinflating it to use like a blow up doll. “I,” Betelgeuse gestures very dramatically to himself. “Don’t knoooow,” he continues slowly. “Who you are.” Kevin, for some reason, seems to wilt a bit. “You really don’t remember me?” “I really don’t. Should I? You do somethin’ interestin’? Besides, single handedly keep Axe body spray in business?” “It’s not Axe!” Kevin stomps over to stand in front of him, offended. “Then axe it, my man, cause that scent is not workin’ for you,” Betelgeuse replies easily, leaning back against the tree to resume his track practice spying. “You juggled your head!” Kevin accuses him. Betelgeuse cocks an eyebrow, and his eyes flit back to Kevin. So he’s someone who had seen him use his powers, at some point? Yeesh. “You brought a field of pumpkins to life and nearly murdered me!” Ohhhh. “Yeah, well, you pushed me down,” Betelgeuse says, suddenly remembering. “So I guess we both suffered that day, didn’t we, Kev?” “So you admit it!” Kevin says tenselely, before sitting in the grass across from him. Betelgeuse watches him quietly. The breather seems confused. “Why are you here?” he asks, and Betelgeuse nods over at the bouncing, glistening track team. “The view.” Kevin glances in that direction and rolls his eyes. “Jackass, I meant at school,” he dead pans. Betelgeuse grins. “Well, th’ way my dad explained it, I have to be in government mandated kid jail, or else he goes to adult jail.” “So you’re a monster who has to go to school?” “Demon, but. Yeah.” Kevin’s eyes widen, and he whispers the word. “Demon.” There’s a beat as he ponders over that. “Those people, who were with you at the store.. Are they demons

too?” “What? Th’ Deetzs? Nah. They’re human as they come.” “And you live with them?” “Yup,” he pops the “p,” quickly growing annoyed with this line of questioning. “And they-” “Listen, man,” Betelgeuse apparates his lunch from nothing, which causes Kevin to flinch, before realizing it's just food. “Can we skip all this? It’s a life changing revelation for you, I’m sure, but forget bored stiff, this is giving me rigor mortis. Yes, I’m a demon. I go to school here cause I’m th’ Deetz’s son, and no, there’s nothing wrong with them.” He grimaces. “Just me. I’m not following you around to torment you, you’re not that special. And yes,” he holds up the sandwich from his lunch. “This is a turkey club on a croissant. My human dad packed it for me, because he loves me.” There’s a small moment of silence. Kevin opens his mouth, and Betelgeuse, own mouth now full of food, groans. “Why do you have bandages all over your face?” “Because I murdered a pedophile four years ago and his vengeful, freak ass ghost won’t let it go.” “Really?” “No. That’s not even how ghosts work. God, breathers are so gullible.” “You’re such a dick,” Kevin replies, but there’s a faint hint of a smile, there. Betelgeuse feels it tugging at his own lips, too. “I’m growing moss on my face,” he admits after a moment. “Wasn’t sure how else to keep it hidden, so. Bandages. Not that I really care what people think-” “I can tell from the tripp pants, yeah,” Kev interjects, and Betelgeuse flips him off before continuing. “I’m not trying to get a bunch of attention for being weird.” “Didn’t seem to bother you before,” Kevin comments, picking lazily at the grass around him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “I was twelve. I’ve gotten a bit smarter, even if I was dragged kickin’ an’ screamin’ th’ whole damn way,” and this time, Kevin actually does smile. He mimics the other boy. He offers Kevin half his sandwich, and for the first time ever, he doesn’t eat lunch alone. They wait after school together, watching as their peers are picked up or loaded onto buses. “I used to have nightmares about you,” Kevin tells him, and Betelgeuse smiles flirtatiously. “So you’ve been dreamin’ of me. That’s hot.” He receives a punch in the arm for that. When his mom pulls up, with Lydia in tow in the backseat, he throws open the front passenger side door of the car. “Hey, ma, hey Lyds,” but Emily is looking past him. “BJ, is that a friend of yours?” She sounds thrilled. He turns and looks at Kevin, then back to her, and shrugs, but he’s smiling. “I dunno. He’s new, so we hung out at lunch, an’ talked. Maybe. I dunno.” “You should invite him over!” Emily grins, eyes shining. “Now?” “Now! We’re having take out for dinner, we could order more for him, easy! And he’s new, he probably doesn’t have any plans, and-” “Alright, alright, hold on,” he gripes, then waives Kevin over. The breather approaches the car, cautious. “Hey, so my mom, she says you can come over for dinner, if you want,” and God/Satan, he’s never felt more like an awkward, pimply faced teen than he does at that exact moment. If he sounds like a total loser, at least Kevin doesn’t seem to mind, cause he perks up. “Let me call my dad!” he whips out his cell phone so fast, Betelgeuse feels flattered. He actually wants to come over. He wants to spend some time together. Emily’s smile widens until she looks like a slasher on happy pills, and he climbs into the car front seat and nudges her. “Play it cool, ma,” he all but begs, and she looks to him. “I’m super cool, BJ. I’m a cool mom. Right, Lyds?” Lydia gives her best noncommittal shrug, the one Betelgeuse taught her, actually. “He said yes!” Kevin comes jogging back over to the car a minute later. “If that’s really okay, Mrs. Deetz?” “For sure! The more, the merrier!” They moved out of the apartment a little over a year ago. The new place had been a nightmare when they’d moved in, a Tudor style house with a lot of character, a lot of leftover trash, and a lot of bugs. He’d set about fixing that instantly, hunting down the tasty snacks, and Emily had stood in the middle of

the mess, chewing her bottom lip, and thinking. “I know, I know, it’s rough,” Charles had stood there, suddenly looking older than his age in a way Betelgeuse did not like. “But it’s a beautiful old house, with good bones, and room to grow, and.. It’s going to be a lot of work.” Lydia, precocious and eight, shuffled between her parents, and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a dump,” she declared, and both the adults looked down at her. “It’s not a dump,” Emily said. “It’s The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.” “Em!” Seemingly ignoring her husband, she turned and went back to the car, and didn’t return until she had her record player and a sample of her collection of vinyl with her. “BJ! Come give this a shock, please? The power’s not on yet.” Betelgeuse apparated at her side, a new trick he’d been practicing, and Emily, ever Emily, didn’t even flinch. She just patted his head, as he grabbed the cord and gave it a shock of green static. She placed a record in the player, and adjusted the needle. The familiar sounds of Calypso began to fill the house. “Let’s clean up,” Emily smiled, and, singing along and dancing and laughing, the family had begun their first of many clean ups. It’s a nice memory, one he looks back on often. They’re pulling up to the house, Kevin in tow, and despite the unease he feels at having a new person in his space, at least their house, full of love, is a comforting energy to be wrapped in.

They lead Kevin in, and he follows Betelgeuse up to his bedroom.

“So, we got your common bedroom items,” he gestures grandly as they enter his space. “Dead rat, TV, dresser, mirror for inter dimensional travel, severed head for juggling,” he acknowledges that moment in their shared history. “Old trunk full of demon secrets,” he gives the antique steamer trunk by the foot of his bed a kick. It pops open to reveal very normal looking magazines. “All that good stuff.” The wall paper he chose for his room is a black and white pinstripe that dad had called “busy,” and mom had called “him,” and Kevin blinks a bit in surprise. “You, uh, really are dedicated to the stripes, huh? I prefer a simple black myself.. Black is always a statement.” Betelgeuse snorts. “It’s my pattern,” he says, and Kevin sort of nods, clearly not getting it. He tries again. “It’s, you know, important?” Kevin glances at him, and nods again, but seemingly more hesitant. “It’s a demon thing,” Betelgeuse says finally, tired of even his own clunky attempts at subtly. “My animal is a snake,” he explains. “And my colors are black and white.” Kevin looks mystified. “So, what does that… mean?”

“Means it’s my aspect. It’s important.. Demon stuff.”

The teens look at each other. Kevin squints. “You don’t know what it means.” “I got no fuckin’ clue,” Betelgeuse admits, flopping on his back in the air and hanging there, reclining on nothing. “It’s somethin’, somethin’, dominion over th’ beasts that crawl on their bellies, foul an’ tainted, I think was th’ phrase. But I don’t usually get many chances to be around snakes, so it’s not a talent I get to practice much.” Kevin looks insanely jealous of the way he’s floating there, weightless, which was exactly the point Betelgeuse had in mind when he struck the floating pose to begin with. “Point bein’, I’m drawn to black an’ white.”

“Same way you’re drawn to sweaty track stars?” Kevin smirks, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Fuckin’ exactly,” Betelgeuse grins at him, a smile Kevin matches. He might be out of his mind, but he feels something here. Kevin’s a good looking guy, and Betelgeuse isn’t exactly “picky.” He’s known for a long time his exact type is “someone who will give Betelgeuse attention and affection,” without worrying what exactly that means in the long run. “Gross,” rings a female voice, and the prolonged eye contact between the teens is broken by his nine year old sister, leaning against the door frame. She takes in the scene before her, him floating there, and Kevin.. Kevin seemingly looking a little flustered on the bed. He’s not sure if she gets what that’s about, hell, he hardly does, though he likes it. But she’s a bit young to pick up on romantic vibes, he thinks. Hopefully. “You’re not even trying to hide the whole, being a demon thing, are you?” she scowls. “Whatever, he already knew. He recognized me from the pumpkin patch. You probably don’t remember, you were five, but-” “I remember.” She squints, and then looks at Kevin, who gives a little waive. “What exactly are your intentions with my demon brother?” she asks, crossing her arms. Kevin actually blushes, a reaction Betelgeuse can both see and smell. Smells like blood and hormones, and it’s cute… he’s cute. “He’s just… weird. I’m, you know.. I just wanna know more. About him, and demons, and this otherworldly, supernatural business.” Ah. A little disappointing. He tries not to look let down, but he knows Lydia catches the look on his face. God/Satan, she’s a clever kid. “BJ isn’t your personal encyclopedia of paranormal bullshit. Besides, he hardly knows anything.” “Fuckin’ rude.” “Well!” she throws her hands up, a gesture he recognizes that she’s picked up from Emily. “I’m just saying, you don’t know enough to be that interesting.” He drops to his feet and puts a hand out, and she glares at him as an invisible force gently pushes her towards the door. “That’s enough, I think you’ve fulfilled your annoying little sibling requirements for today,” he grates at her, and she’s about out the door when Charles’ voice booms from downstairs. “Dinner!” Dinner is from Charles’ favorite Thai place, and the amount of food ordered seems to throw Kevin off guard. There’s a tall stack of delicious smelling styrofoam boxes, all of which are systematically set on the kitchen counter in a line, and the Deetz family goes through with plates, and helps themselves. It becomes clear pretty quickly that the amount ordered has more to do with who is eating, and not what they’re eating. Betelgeuse simply picks up two or three boxes instead of a plate, and settles at the table. His excuse for being a glutton has always been that his powers require a lot of energy for upkeep, but he’s not actually sure if that’s true. Also, it’s an excuse he’s never actually had to use, at least not in this house, because despite being somewhat akin to a garbage disposal in terms of food, his parents never give him any crap for eating. When he’d shown up, a skinny feral bitey little fuck, they’d been very encouraging of him stuffing his face. Now he’s older, obviously, and maybe he’s a bit chubby for his age, but it seems the entire family figures it’s better than looking starved, like he did before. He doesn’t think he’ll die if he doesn’t eat, but it feels good to have a full stomach, and he likes the way food tastes, so yes, he eats a lot. The way he sees it, it just means more B-Man to go around. Kevin, meanwhile, takes a polite amount and sits down next to him. “So, Kevin! Today was your first day?” Emily smiles brightly to the teen, who nods. “Yeah, I’m living with my dad now, so... new school,” he explains. Betelgeuse has the urge to pick up one of his boxes of food and take a cartoonish bite, like it’s a sandwich, but he doesn’t think that gag will play, right at this moment. “BJ has never brought a friend over before,” Charles says, unhelpfully. “Have too!” Betelgeuse protests, because he’s not trying to look like a total freak ass loser in front of the one person who seems

interested in talking to him.

Charles furrows his brow. “Who..? Oh, well…” he pauses. “I don’t know if.. If Sam counts…” “Sam was cool,” Lydia interjects, staring at Kevin, the unfinished half of her sentence being, “unlike you.” He’s got no clue why she’s gunning for Kev the way she is, but it’s kinda funny to watch a nine year old intimidate a teen. “He came over, didn’t he? Sure, it was uninvited, through a mirror, but I’m counting it anyways.” “BJ,” Charles starts, but Betelgeuse just shrugs. “It’s fine, dad. He knows. He was at the pumpkin patch.” It takes Charles and Emily a moment, but they both suddenly look nervous. “BJ is a good kid!” Emily blurts immediately, sounding defensive and looking at Kev, who sort of gives a nod. “It’s cool, I… threw tantrums when I was little, too. I mean, mine weren’t like. Cool vegetation apocalypses, but, you know.” He gives an easy shrug, before looking at Betelgeuse. “Who is Sam? Another demon?” “A better demon,” Lydia mutters, and at this point, he’s a second away from teleporting her into the neighbor’s pool. “He’s like Santa for Halloween, if Santa enforced Christmas time cheer with extreme violence.” “He’s Halloween Krampus,” Emily supplies helpfully, and he nods. “He’s the spirit of Halloween, and he’s cool. He’s only around one night, and he’s usually busy workin’, but when he gets a moment he pops in and we hang out. You’d probably-” like him isn’t exactly the right words. Humans don’t tend to feel easy in Sam’s presence. “- get along?” he finishes, but that also doesn’t seem likely. Sam isn’t outright cruel… usually. But his aura is clearly threatening, and he doesn’t play nice. The only reason Betelgeuse isn’t worried about his humans is because Sam has very clear, very structured rules. Rules that Emily had already been following, regardless of demonic threat. Also, last Halloween, Lydia had gone as Sam, orange jumpsuit, burlap sack and button eyes and everything, and Sam, ever a being of few words, had said, Flattered. He figures that probably earned the Deetz family at least one get out of murder free card. “This is all so cool,” Kevin twirls his fork around his pad phak. “It’s like, something from a movie. I can’t believe demons are.. Real. And I know about them.” There is, for a moment, a shine in his eyes that makes Betelgeuse uncomfortable, but it passes so quickly, he starts to assume he imagined it. He gives in, picks up a styrofoam box full of spicy chicken, and takes a bite out of the whole thing. His dad groans. After they’re done eating, they play video games, and whatever that moment was at dinner, he forces himself to forget it. Kevin is cute, and Kevin wants to talk to him, and that’s about as much as he cares to think about, right now. When Mr. Loh comes to pick him up, Kevin gives Betelgeuse’s hand a squeeze. It’s just the two of them, on the front porch, under the stars only he can see, because light pollution makes them invisible to the human eyes. Still, the setting feels intimate, and that hand holding cements it, at least at that moment. He’s not imagining it. “See you tomorrow?” Kevin smiles, and Betelgeuse knows his face flushes a little more purple at that. “Uh, yeah, for sure,” he says, and Kevin steps off the front porch and hurries to his dad’s car, their moment broken, but he stands there a while anyways, even after the car disappears down the street. He takes his own hand in hand, and gives it a squeeze, trying to imitate what Kevin had done flawlessly. He wanders inside after a while, but just stands with his back to the front door, replaying that simple moment over and over, until Charles, passing him on his way up to bed, pauses. “BJ? Your hair is… pink.”

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