#aupril fools

[charaznablescanontoyota]

president heartbeat, turn me into somebody new

[doublevampires]

crime au jaylen and derrick djdjfnkfkfmf

badzone timeline where the alternates don’t switch back. sorry this isnt crime derrick actually

Jaylen doesn’t knock before entering Derrick’s room. Doesn’t see the point, really; she knows exactly what she’ll find inside, and it’s the same as she’s found the last five times she’s come in without announcing herself: Derrick laying facedown in bed feigning sleep or Derrick sitting crosslegged on the bed staring blankly at the wall or Derrick pacing the small space endlessly. Always silent and alone.

“I’m gonna explore the swamp,” she says, leaning against the wall next to the doorway. Doesn’t bother with greetings, no how are you, because the answer’s stuck in hell, same as you, and neither of them are itching to talk about that. “You’re coming with me.”

His face is still halfway buried in the pillow, but he cracks open one eye, looks at her in silence for a second. “Why?” His voice has been getting more and more laced with static over the past few weeks; she takes note of the way he winces after speaking, like a sore throat brings regret. It sounds like it hurts.

“Oh, plenty of reasons. Tiana keeps harping on about the buddy system. Everyone else here falls into one of two categories: boring sports assholes, or people who want to kill me. Not gonna ask Tosser to go to a secluded location with me, you know? Neither of us would come back from that one alive.” She reconsiders her words, grimacing. “Well. For a given definition of alive. You know what I mean.”

Company isn’t easy to come by, here. Of those who knew her before this, Tosser almost certainly still wants to kill her, and Luis is apparently capable of setting people on fire, which serves as a pretty strong deterrent from hanging out with them. Most people — the ones who were here before whatever’d brought Jaylen — remember her as someone else, something slightly to the left. She’s found no real trace of the other-Jaylen’s personality. While Krueger’s got a room full of objects to look at, letters found folded neatly in drawers and sheet music spread around, Jaylen’s room is entirely bare, dusty like it’s never been used at all.

If you’d told Jaylen a month ago that her only friend in hell would be Derrick Krueger, she would’ve slit your throat. But this isn’t the Derrick she’d known, either. And Jaylen’s never done well with being alone.

“Sure.” He turns towards her, blankets tangling up around him. Progress, she thinks.

“And you need to get out of here.”

“Got out of here once already,” he says. Moving past monosyllabic answers, which, again, is progress, even if she’s poking at old wounds by mistake. “Didn’t stick. Obviously.”

“Not what I meant, Krueger.” Jaylen pushes off the wall, moves to the bed and sits down in the narrow space Derrick’s legs aren’t occupying. “Fresh air. It’ll do you good.”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t reply.

“Heard there’s a Best Buy out there. And a lake. Maybe more shit, I don’t know. You can’t just mope in here forever.”

“Are you going to leave?” The question’s pretty much deadpan. He’s got his eyes closed again, an arm draped over them, like it’ll be enough to convince Jaylen he’s sleeping.

She didn’t get where she is by giving up easily. “Not a fuckin’ chance,” she says. “Give me fifteen minutes. Then you can go back to lying around in the dark doing whatever the fuck you do here all day. You might be used to how boring it is here, but I’m not, and it’s this or going to kill Tosser again.”

He squints at her. “Ten minutes.”

“Cruel of you,” she says, though she’s standing up and offering a hand to help him up, and he’s taking it, and she’s smiling even as he scowls. “Thought I was supposed to be the relentless criminal here. I’m already wasting away, you could at least give me the bare minimum of social interaction.”

“Are you ever any less dramatic,” he groans. 

“Absolutely not.” Jaylen tugs him by the arm towards the door; she feels like she’s leading a blindfolded hostage around, like if she loses contact he’ll bolt and return to the relative comfort of his room, so she keeps a tight grip on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and doesn’t give him the chance. “Let’s see if we can’t find some fucked up swamp monsters to cure your agonies.”

[charaznablescanontoyota]

can’t believe tgb government assigned my guy to be italian

[charaznablescanontoyota]

shaqedric + kitchen

crime au again because i am marinating in it before ausday i guess

"My new neighbors are hitmen," Quill says lightly, cutting into their fried egg with the side of their fork and letting the yolk bleed out onto the toast underneath. They watch it for a moment, then raise their eyes to Edric, just in time to see him choke on a mouthful of coffee.

"That's -" he sputters. "How do you -"

"They're not exactly subtle about it," Quill says, with a shrug. They take small bites of their breakfast between sentences, reluctant to let it go cold just because they brought up something relatively serious for once. They generally don't talk shop when Edric is over for breakfast, but it's not like this is something they could tell him over the phone. Not important enough to go running across town about, either.

"And," they continue, "the bathroom wall is thin. I can hear straight into their hallway. They're here for you, me, and Shaq, by the way."

"Good," Edric says, with the flat, long-suffering tone that means this is going to be a future headache for him. "Great. Exactly what I like to hear."

"Eat your breakfast," Quill says, poking at his plate with their fork.

"Tell me about the hitmen, and I will," he counters, looking up at them sharply through his eyelashes but spearing a piece of bacon on his own fork anyway.

Quill shrugs again. "They're polite, at least. One of them's been bringing me leftovers."

"They could be trying to poison you," Edric says pointedly, around a mouthful of bacon. His eyebrows are still drawn together in concern, but at least he's using the energy to attack his food, rather than going over and attacking the neighbors.

"Oh, they wouldn't," Quill says, cheerful. "They think I'm the brains of the operation."

Edric nearly chokes again. Quill laughs this time, leaning back in their chair and watching his face go from puzzled to incredulous, watching him stammer as he tries to figure out the right questions to ask.

"What did you tell them?" he finally settles on.

"That I have a guy across town who pays my rent and takes care of scary things for me," Quill says, arching an eyebrow at Edric in a practiced move of play-bemusement that they've used dozens of times before. "That is what you are, Eddie. I'd never lie to a couple of strangers."

"Bullshit," Edric says, and it's enough to make them laugh again.

"I'm just letting them interpret what they want," they say.

"And calling me your guy."

"Should I call you something else?"

"Well," Edric says, half-smirking, stabbing his fork into another piece of bacon, "it's not inaccurate, I guess."

[charaznablescanontoyota]

quill & carmelo + dive bar?

"I got you something," Carmelo says, sliding into the seat across from them.

"Besides my drink?" Quill asks, eyebrows arched. They reach out to take their whiskey sour from Carmelo, and stiffen a little - but don't pull away - when Carmelo takes them by the hand instead, drops something cold and heavy into their palm.

It's a necklace. Quill holds it up, lets it hang from their fingers and catch the scant light of the bar, twists it slightly to examine it. It's a little ostentatious, a pear-shaped red stone that might be a ruby or a garnet (but is definitely the size of their thumb) surrounded by diamonds and set into rose gold. It might be the most expensive thing they've ever handled directly.

"Carmelo," Quill says, still watching the reflections in the pendant.

"Luna," Carmelo says back, and Quill just knows they're looking very pleased with themself.

"Sweetheart."

"Sugar."

Quill looks up over the frames of their glasses. "This is stolen."

"So?" Carmelo asks. "You want me to give it back? I guess I could fence it, but I thought it'd look prettier on you."

Quill laughs and hides it with their free hand, grateful that the bar is too dark for Carmelo to see the blush painting itself hot across their cheeks. They draw the necklace back up into their hand, then lay it back into Carmelo's carefully.

Carmelo's face drops. "You don't want it?"

"Of course I do," Quill says. "Aren't you going to put it on me?"

[charaznablescanontoyota]

free space for crime au moody and quill

"Dallas?" Moody asks the second Quill is in the passenger seat, before they can even get their seatbelt on. "Fucking Texas, Quilliam? If you wanted a vacation -"

"I didn't exactly ask to be here," Quill mutters, tucking a loose strand of hair behind their ear. It's greasy. They need a shower, and a change of clothes, and - they need a lot of things, actually, but those would be two excellent places to start. Unfortunately, they're going to have to suffer another car ride back to Hades before that can happen.

"You know Hiroto thought you were dead?" Moody asks, peeling out of Roto's driveway. "I mean, the last thing anybody saw was you slipping out the back, right -"

"Moody."

" - and Haley found a trail of blood going back there that just up and disappeared. I said you were probably fine, but it's not like we could just call - actually, hey, I brought your phone if you want it. You've got some missed texts and shit. Not that I looked, I mean, privacy 'n all -"

"Moody," Quill says, a little louder. Not quite snapping. Not quite not snapping, either. "Would you fucking - I got kidnapped."

"Yyyyyeah," Moody says, drawing the word out exactly as long as it takes hir to turn onto the main road from the gravel back road that leads to Roto's place. "I mean. S'why I'm here."

"And shot."

"Hey, I mean, we've all gotten a little shot at some point, am I right?"

"Don't joke." Quill sniffles into their sleeve, a little embarrassed both that they have nothing else to muffle the sound with and that the tears are coming at all. "It's - this fucking sucks."

"Yeah!" Moody says, with enthusiasm. "Yeah, it fucking does! You think I like having to drive all the way to Texas because someone grabbed your ass off the street?"

Quill laughs, watery. "Sorry to inconvenience you."

"Nah, it's nothing, I'll buy you lunch. I passed a Whataburger on the way in, and I'm fuckin' starving."

"Oh," Quill says, for lack of anything else to say. Except maybe, "Thanks, Moody."

"Again, s'why I'm here."

Quill risks a smile, face still covered by their sleeves. "Can I get a milkshake?"

"Bitch, you got shot in the leg," Moody says. "You can have as many milkshakes as you fucking want."

[charaznablescanontoyota]

Crime AU: Edric, Shaq and Quill + new place

There’s a quiet kind of uneasiness in the hotel room, when Shaq gets back up from the casino floor. Quill is on their bed with one knee bent up towards their chest, chewing at their thumbnail, head tilted to one side to press their cheek up against Edric’s shoulder. The fingers of their free hand are threaded between Edric’s on the sheets between them.

“Have you two just been up here staring at the wall?” Shaq asks, flopping down on Edric’s other side, resting his chin on Edric’s free shoulder. “‘Cause I just won two grand at poker, and -”

“Quill’s having a moment,” Edric says under his breath. Almost warningly, in the way that means this isn’t the kind of moment they can quip around until Quill laughs and feels better.

“Oh-kay,” Shaq says, dragging the word out. “Can I get you some water, bud?”

“Please?” Quill asks. There’s a quiet waver to their voice, but they’re not crying, so that’s something. 

Not that Shaq would begrudge them any for crying. They did all just have to fake their own deaths, pack up, and leave home on about three hours’ notice, and there’s no way any of them have successfully processed that one. Personally, Shaq’s been spending most of his time in the casino so he doesn’t have to start processing.

“I’m not having a moment,” Quill says, when Shaq gets up to grab them a bottle of water from the minibar. “I’m just - thinking.”

“I can see the gears turnin’, yeah.” Shaq tosses the water bottle to Edric, who catches it, sets it down on the bed so it’s touching Quill’s thigh where they can reach it. “Are we keeping those thoughts inside, or d’you wanna run ‘em down for me?”

Edric’s gaze flicks upwards. “Shaq -”

“What?” Shaq asks, settling back into the bed. “I’m not fucking around, I’m asking. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Quill hums. They straighten up and unlace their hand from Edric’s to unscrew the water bottle’s cap, and start to drink in small, careful sips. Shaq gets the feeling that they’re using this as an excuse to not talk for a moment - which is fine, honestly, because at least they’re hydrating.

“Quill?” Edric asks eventually, carefully. “Baby?”

“I’ve never been anywhere in this universe that isn’t Breckenridge,” Quill mumbles, around the mouth of the water bottle. Their voice is small, the way it is when they think they’re being stupid or hysterical.

“Uh huh?” Edric asks.

They swallow. “I’m. Scared? A little.”

“Hey, nothin’ wrong with being scared, bud. You did just have a hell of a week.” Shaq adjusts himself around Edric, twisting to get a better look at Quill’s face. “I could probably get Tiana to show you around, if it’d make you feel better. I mean, I know it’s a lot to look at, but once you get used to it -”

“Oh,” Quill says. “Oh. Yeah. I’d like that.” They pause, frowning. “Will you come?”

“Ambiguous pronouns, bud, we’ve been over -”

“Both of you.”

“Sure,” Shaq says, settling into Edric’s side with a grin.

“‘Course,” Edric says. Shaq watches him hesitate for a moment before wrapping an arm around Quill’s shoulders - and watches them hesitate before leaning into it. Apparently that’s something they’re still working on.

[charaznablescanontoyota]

crime au + card tables?

breckenridge crew goes on the run for [mumbles vaguely] reasons, quill stays solo in vegas hades and becomes a lounge singer for like half a year, this takes place during that!

It's a slow night at the Lily, which can be a rare thing, so Quill sticks around after their set mostly to walk the casino floor and say hello to Doc and Matteo and a few others. Lucy is dealing blackjack, and Quill - well, they don't quite make a beeline, but they work their way around, eyes flicking towards the table to make sure it's still empty by the time they get there and throw themself into one of the seats.

"Are you playing?" Lucy asks, raising an eyebrow. He's shuffling cards idly, cutting the deck into separate pieces and rotating them smoothly between his fingers without even looking.

"Do I look like I have chips?" Quill returns, arching their own eyebrows right back.

He laughs. "That coat of yours looks like it has deep pockets."

"I'm not playing if you're dealing," Quill says. They lean forward, elbows on the felt of the card table, chin propped in their hands. "You look bored."

"It's a slow night."

"So, teach me something."

Lucy exhales through his nose, not quite a snort but not quite a laugh. He collapses his segmented stacks of cards into a full deck again, and motions to Quill - who blinks, unsure of what they're supposed to be doing, exactly.

"What?" they ask.

"Your hand, de Luna," Lucy says.

"You could ask," Quill says, but sets their hand palm-up on the table anyway, expectant.

They're not surprised when Lucy gives them the deck of cards. They are surprised - but not enough to pull away - when he starts gently manipulating their fingers, bending them around the cards in a deliberate way so that their thumb folds over the top of the deck. Quill chews the inside of their cheek and tries their damndest to relax until Lucy is finished, then squeezes the deck like they're afraid it might slide out of their hand without warning.

"Don't white-knuckle it," Lucy says, low and amused.

Quill eases up on their grip, just a little. "I don't feel like I'm learning much."

"You will," Lucy says. He's good, Quill has noticed, at sounding like he has a certain degree of confidence in them that might be unfounded. "Now - ask me to pick a card, and I'll show you how to make me think you're psychic."

Quill laughs. They fan out the cards in their hand, face down, a little delighted to find that the grip Lucy configured their hand into makes it easy.

"I think I'm more suited to being a lovely assistant than a magician," they say. "Pick a card, any card?"

"One can be both," Lucy says, grinning crookedly back at them, sliding a card out from the middle of the deck.