#and now like. shes getting upset at her 11 year old for not wearing a shirt around the house

[ratmans-notebooks]

hey if i have to hear my mom tell her 11 year old daughter to "cover her breasts" when shes just like standing around in her own house one more time i will vomit

[mekachu04]

6. Lipstick

Kidd - 11 | Killer - 15 | Victoria - 15 almost 16

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Killer in dresses and makeup

Teenagers doing teenager things

Victoria is a mill girl

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Victoria had been a mill girl since she was 10, a doffer for the older women in the textile mill, and earning herself a bed at the Women's Boarding House, tucked away on the city side of the mill complex, blocking the city's view of the textile manufacturing building and the waste it dumped freely out into the Heaps. She was well aware of the good fortune she'd fallen into, having seen the conditions other girls and boys her age outside of the walls lived in. She was almost 16 now, and still sleeping in the same bed night after night.

The years of being underpaid and overworked left her with a roof over her head, three square meals a day, and never having to worry about the things that go bump in the night.

Never had to worry about the unwanted attention of the older boys as not a one of them yet able to sneak past the Widow Matron of her building.

 That wasn't to say Victoria had not been sneaking a certain younger boy in for a couple of years now.

Three years actually - right under the nose of the adults - with the exception of one of the nurses who'd taught Victoria herself the tricks on a night the young woman preferred not to remember. It was a good thing Killer made a convincing girl, prettier hair than her own, and a wore her dresses and heels as naturally as she did. She just had to make sure he was out by curfew or someone was bound to notice the extra girl at head count.

Once, on one of her free weekends, her dress had torn along the back when it got caught on a nail or something. Instead of going home - and possibly be misunderstood as forfeiting her remaining free time - she'd convinced Killer (and Kidd because she'd forgotten to lock the door) to follow her into a shop's bathroom and put her dress on so she could sew it back up as properly as one could on the fly.

While using him as a dress form - she wasn't particular well devolved and he was about as wide chested as she was and it fit him well enough for the task - Kidd had asked the two if that meant Killer was a girl.

Killer had looked upset, it was too close to the ugly things the other boys called him and while she knew Kidd didn't know any better, it was still bordering on hurtful.

"What's wrong with being a girl?" she had demanded of him. Kidd looked surprised, before slouching against the main door, looking properly told off, muttering "Nuthin'."

With a frown, she'd turned back to her stitching, when Killer spoke up, his voice timid in a way she wasn't used to, "Victoria wears pants most of the time, does that make her a boy?" he asked Kidd.

"…no?"

"You're wearing one of her old shirts right now - does that made you a girl?"

The boy shook his head no.

"It's just clothes and stuff."

"Okay." Kidd agreed, sounding like right now he just want the conversation to end.

But Victoria had looked at Killer in her favorite yellow dress - it was the wrong colour for him, but made a cute silhouette.

She'd brought him an older blue one of hers a few weeks later. They'd snuck into the bathroom again, and she'd dressed him up and it looked so much better than the yellow one had.

And then they'd waltzed right in though the front doors of her boarding house, only barely keeping composed long enough to shut themselves away in her currently empty dorm room before they were laughing wildly, clutching at each other to keep from falling over.

"I can't believe that worked!" Killer was cackling, and neither could Victoria, and the thrill of getting such a big one over on the Widow Matron was a high she'd not been expecting.

Most of the time, Victoria was more than happy to hang out with both of the boys, but there was something exhilarating in sneaking Killer away from both his childminder duties and past the women of the boarding house. She was pretty sure some of the other girls had suspected something was up seeing as Killer - who had the audacity to introduce himself as Killer still - could never be found at meals or at bed check.

So far though, the only thing anyone had actually said was when Nicolette had still been in the room getting ready when Victoria and Killer slipped in one afternoon. Killer had quickly looked away from the half-dressed woman, blushing, and Victoria had felt a little offended he'd never reacted to her that way. Nicolette had frowned at the interruption but otherwise ignored them, at least until she was putting her things away. She held a little tube up thoughtfully, before tossing it to Victoria. Even surprised, she'd caught it with ease, looking confused.

"Killer'd look good in purple, I think." was all Nicolette said, before heading out for her own night on the town.

It was a tube of lipstick. Victoria and Killer looked at it thoughtfully.

Nicolette was right. Killer did look good in purple. It was a soft lilac colour that worked well with his straw yellow hair and ice blue eyes. Victoria found she liked painting him up in it, some times adding a touch of purple powder that she'd later pick up to the creases of his eyelids.

Sometimes, after he was all dolled up, they'd hit the town together. Other days they spend in her dorm room. "Just don't mess up your lipstick" was her only rule.

And then he'd either escort her back to the doors just before 10, or would be sneaking out the back, headed back to the Heaps. He had a small collection of makeup that was just his that he hid in one of his caches, along with the dress. The other clothes he would bring back to Kidd, who was more than happy to wear even the ugliest prints if not for anything more than the fact they'd never belonged to anyone else before him.

Kidd would watch him those nights, carefully washing the makeup off under the flickering of lamp light.

"You don't have to wash it off…" Kidd had said finally, "If you don't want to. I don't care if you like to look pretty."

Killer had smiled up at him, head tilted so his bangs fell away from his face for once, and he studied his younger friend, "You think I look pretty?"

[sgstories123]

Good Boy Zed

John looked at his watch. It was already past 2 am. The event was supposed to end at 11 pm but these corporate events sometimes can go on longer than expected. As general manager of the hotel, in such a scenario, he would have to get the client to end the event without getting them upset. It was a delicate task especially when most of the people would be drunk and irrational at this late stage of the event. But if he did not do this, the hotel would have to foot the additional cost including paying for all the temp workers who are waiting for the event to clean up.

It was not too bad today, he thought to himself. The person in charge was still sober and apologetic. He managed to end the event and obtained some additional compensation for the hotel. He looked around at the group of temporary workers who were now clearing up the room. All five of them looked young. They were most probably tertiary students working part-time during the vacation break. He recognised one of them, Zed, a young man studying hospitality in one of the private schools. He had chatted with him a couple of times as he had worked for the hotel as a part-timer for quite some time. He had expressed an interest to work in the hotel when he graduated.

But he was more interested in the girl next to him. She was petite, maybe about 1.5 metres tall. She had a innocent and cute face, with large eyes framed by thick, black lashes. She looked like a Japanese school girl. At that moment, the girl giggled at something that Zed was sharing. Zed parted her hair lovingly and the girl looked down in embarrassment. Gosh, John thought to himself. How nice to be young again.

At 50, John knew what it was to grow old. His paunch has been growing every year and he finds it more and more difficult to climb the flight of steps to his second-floor office in the hotel. He had also been taking Viagra for a couple of years as he could no longer perform.

The other three workers, two boys and a girl, seemed to be friendly with Zed as well. While they were working, they were talking and laughing with each other. John was pleased. He did not like it when the temp workers complain about the longer hours. He wanted to reward them for their hard work and positive attitude, knowing that at this time of the night, the additional compensation will not be sufficient for their cab fare home.

“Mr John, Sir! We are almost done. Can I get the keys from you to lock up the stores?” Zed asked.

“Sure.” John responded. “By the way, Zed. Are all of them your friends?”

“Yeah. We are in the same school. I introduced them to your hotel as temp workers.” Zed replied.

“Is that pretty girl your girlfriend? I saw you too behaving quite intimately.” John asked.

“Not really. I thought Nicole was quite chio so we talk a little bit more lor.” Zed laughed.

John was pleased to hear that. “Do you live far from here? Tell you what. I can get you a room for all of you and you can sleep there till morning. There is some wine left over from the event which the client did not want to take back. You can have it as well if you want.”

“Oh my God! Really! Thanks, Mr John, Sir! I will tell the rest.” Zed was clearly thrilled. John was happy that he managed to do something nice.

A short while later, John had led the five of them into a quad room with two queen-sized beds. They also brought up with them several bottles of wine and a small plate of sandwiches also leftovers from the event. John joined them as the group of them joked and ate a late supper. But John was not paying attention to the jokes. He was looking at Nicole at every opportunity. Now out other hotel uniform, Nicole looked even more like a school girl. She had on a white t-shirt and a short denim skirt with a cute, yellow flower at the side. Something a small girl will wear. John could feel his cock stirring.

By the time the food and wine was gone, the two girls were already too tired and were already resting on the beds.

“Looks like they are really tired. I will go back to my office so that you boys can take a rest too.” John said as he got up to leave the room.

Zed opened the door for him. At the door, Zed smiled at John. “Mr John. We actually planned to have an orgy after the event at one of the budget hotels tonight. But because you offered us such a nice hotel room plus free food and wine, it had turned out to be much better than what we plan. We have all agreed that you can join us. Do you want to?

“Erm…No lah…You enjoy yourself.” John was shocked.

“You sure, Mr John? I know you are interested in Nicole.” Zed said with a twinkle in the eye. “I won’t lie to you. You know I want to work for your hotel, right. So I asked her if she is okay with sleeping with you. I did cajole her a little and she finally agreed.”

John was more shocked than ever. “Let me think about it.”

“Alright, Mr John. You can join us if you change your mind.”

In his office, John was still thinking about Zed’s conversation interspersed with images of Nicole. Unable to focus any more on his work, he opened his drawer where he kept his Viagra and popped one into his mouth. He walked to the mini-bar in his office and washed the little blue pill with a good amount of whisky. He left the room quickly, hoping that the blue pill will work in time, his heart beating fast with expectation.

“Oh! Hi, Mr John! Joining us? You are just in time. We are just getting started.” Zed gushed as he opened the door for John. He saw that Zed was naked with a hard, erect cock. As he entered the room, he saw that the others were also naked. The two boys were lying side by side with the other girl, sucking on her breasts and taking turns fingering her. She was moaning softly. Zed was right. They must have just started.

Nicole was sitting up on the other bed. Zed must have been with her before he went to open the door. Seeing John, she blushed and pulled the blanket up to cover her breasts in a bid for modesty. That’s so cute, thought John. But he knew that he needed some time for the pill to work. He could feel his cock stirring but it was not hard yet.

“Come, Mr John. Nicole is waiting for you.” Zed was trying very hard to get into John’s good books.

“You go ahead first. Let me take a shower before joining you.” John demurred, as he slowly removed his clothes.

Zed did not need a second invitation. He climbed onto the bed and started kissing and hugging Nicole. He pulled her down, covering half her body with his own body as his fingers started exploring her love hole. Sighs of pleasure was emitting from Nicole.

John went into the bathroom and took a quick shower. He walked out of the bathroom, his cock still flaccid, the medication still not kicking in. As he watched the the group of young people engaging in sex, he started to stroke his cock, willing it to grow hard.

By now, the two guys were already fucking the other girl. One of them was behind fucking her doggy style while the other was at the front, receiving a blowjob.

John could feel his cock hardening. He turned to Nicole and saw that Zed has now lifted Nicole’s legs and licking her cunt. She seemed to be close to cumming as her moans were getting louder and her body was jerking upwards uncontrollably. Her hands were grabbing Zed’s hair as she tried to ride out her pleasure. John walked over and started sucking on her small, breasts. Nicole moaned loudly in pleasure as John’s tongue touched her sensitive nipples. With an upwards thrust and a scream, she squirted all over Zed.

“Mr John. I got Nicole all wet for you. No one has fucked her yet. I made sure you get the first fuck.” Zed was one hell of a bootlicker, thought John. He must get that boy a job.

John took over Zed’s place, spreading Nicole’s legs to enjoy the view. Nicole had shaved her pussy. It was so smooth, just like a school girl’s. He parted the lips, now wet with her juice before sliding his hard cock in. John just only managed to get the head of his cock in when Nicole screamed in pain, digging her nails into John’s arms as she grabbed him.

“Mr John. Go slow. Nicole told me she don’t have much experience with sex. She only had sex a few times with her boyfriend. You are the second guy she is having sex with.” Zed whispered urgently.

Almost a virgin. Almost too good to be true. John thought to himself. He pushed in slowly, letting Nicole adjust to his penis. It was so tight. Nicole must be telling the truth. After a while, he managed to get his while length in while Nicole was grimacing in pain. Zed must be encouraging her as John could see him whispering something to her and playing with her nipples to get her to continue. With Nicole seemingly adjusting to him, John started fucking her slowly. He removed his cock slowly before plunging in again. He went for longer strokes, slowly increasing his pace. Nicole was starting to moan in pleasure. He lifted her legs to his shoulders as he pumped deeper and deeper. Nicole responded by moaning louder and louder. Zed continued to play a supporting role, kissing Nicole and playing with her tits, to make her even more aroused.

“Let’s change position, Zed.” John commanded. He laid down on his back. “Get Nicole up on my cock in cowgirl position.” Zed obeyed and slowly helped the inexperienced Nicole to straddle John while guiding his cock into her. As she sat down onto John’s cock, she shivered in pleasure as the cock went straight up into her. John pulled her down and kissed her, hugging the small, petite body closely against his fat belly.

“Zed. You are a good boy. Your reward is to fuck Nicole from behind.” John commanded.

“Thanks Mr John.” Zed responded gaily. He took up a position before slowly pushing his cock into Nicole’s vagina, rubbing against John’s cock.

Nicole screamed in pain as she took in 2 cocks for the very first time. But it was soon smothered as one of the boys came over and shoved his cock into Nicole’s mouth. It took a while but Zed finally managed to get his whole length into Nicole. As he fucked Nicole, he rubbed against John’s cock. He was happy that he managed to get such an intimate connection with John.

The group continued with their orgy session until the sun rose and lit up the room. John had fucked Nicole several times with the other 3 boys each taking turns accompanying and supporting him. He did not manage to fuck the other girl although she did come over and gave him a kiss. As the session came to an end, the group got dressed and started to leave the room. John gave Nicole a final peck on the cheek before she left the room. Zed was the last to leave the room.

“Mr John, Sir. Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Zed asked.

“Yes, Zed. You are a good boy. I will make sure that you get a job with the hotel. You don’t have to worry.” John replied, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“Can we fuck next time without Nicole?” Zed looked at John in the eye. John did not know what to say.

[pain-is-too-tired]

Honestly,I think one of the reasons I hate how quickly the writing in TLO onward dropped mentioning Michael so fast is, not only cause I think he's a really interesting character and I love the Lil guy, but-

It's very likely that without his quick thinking, Kronos mightve won.

That, theoretically he dies before he can point out the fault in the bridge to Percy, maybe he's one of the demigods that Kronos knocks off earlier in the battle or something.

Percy is too focused on his fight with Kronos to notice the fault of have the same plan that Michael had, even more so with Annabeth being hurt and Michael being dead his fighting with a lot of grief and rage at that point (I mean, if he screams so loud it carried off into the air after he can't find Michael in canon, I imagine seeing him knocked off by Kronos along side Annabeth being hurt as well is gonna have him pretty upset.)

But at that point he's fighting mostly on his own, even if the living members of the Apollo cabin jump back in to help they're still highly outnumbered.

Percy might be mostly invincible with the Achilles curse, but it doesn't give him infinite energy. And not only is he fighting Kronos, but if Kronos told his army to back him up again they very much will. And 1 on gods know how many monsters and demigods ain't gonna do good

Especially since I'm sure Kronos is fully aware that Percy is gonna to avoid killing demigods as much as possible. And Kronos is willing to kill his own demigods so he's not holding anything back.

Maybe Percy's grief and rage might get him to be a tiny more reckless, but it's just a very bad situation if he doesn't notice the fault or manage to break the bridge in time.

Now if Kronos manages to wear Percy down enough to overwhelm him or whatever, idk exactly what he do after that? Find a way to keep him contained or attack every spot until he finds his weak point(like tigerclaw telling bluestar he'd keep killing her until all 9 lives were gone.) And we already know he had some close idea of where his weak spot was after Annabeth jumped in front of the knife sooo-

Anyway, yeah- so if both Michael and Percy are taken out the picture in the first battle, and Kronos marches on, there's multiple things that's gonna probably ensure his win.

1. He's likely gonna wipe out the rest of the Apollo cabin once he deals with Percy, which includes Will, and 11-12 year old Kayla and Austin(I'm mentioning their age mainly cause MY GODS THEY WERE BABIES)

2.Without an Apollo kid to heal Annabeth, I'm pretty sure it's heavily implied she wouldn't have made it. Like the Hunter's healing would not been enough. So they're out Annabeth too

3. The party ponies don't come until after Hyperion and all that iirc(like the end of the second night i think?) So there's no saving from them unless Chiron manages to convince them earlier but I'm running on the idea that it happens about the same as in canon with the Party Ponies.

4. Ares cabin doesn't come until the final day in canon. Now with this maybe Silena is able to report that Percy, Annabeth (if she dies before Silena goes to get the Ares cabin, at least she able to say Annabeth not looking good.),Michael, and the whole Apollo cabin been wiped out, and that might knock some sense into Clarisse to get her going earlier. But even then if Clarisse doesn't manage to get blessing of Ares somehow or whatever, they still might be cooked on that end in some form.

5. Hades, Persephone and Demeter probably wouldn't have made it in time either, maybe if Nico gets even more pushy after sensing Percy's death they might, but it's really up in the air how that'll work out and what would happen if they did get there earlier.

6. Poseidon is still focused on his fight in Atlantis, and without Percy he probably would jump in to take out Typhon. Maybe he might somehow go full rage of he manages to sense/ learn of Percy's death, but that's up in the air and, Like with 5, no telling how exactly that'll play out.

7. Gods likely will keep fighting Typhon. Which if the demigods and nature spirits are wiped out then Kronos going really have more freedom to tear down the thrones and wreck Olympus.

8. Rachel is a wild card, like maybe if she senses Percy might die at the bridge she might try to get to Manhattan before the battle even starts. But there's a lot of uncertainty if she could get there in time and everything. So that's up in the air at least

Over all, the BoM was 3 days of very close calls. The fact that the managed to push through each time by the hair of their chin is incredible and was built on a lot of lucky events.

Like a tower of cards. Remove one card the whole tower goes down.

And Michael's sacrifice was one of the cards that definitely kept Kronos from winning. And the fact that Rick doesn't even bother to finish his arc (We don't see Clarisse reaction to his death nor do we learn if his body was found or not, not even a burial shroud described, the chariot situation was solved off screen and then completely destroyed the next book. Like Rick did not give a care in the world about Michael after the bridge dhdyd)

It's very much a frustrating thing to me because how much Michael's death could've been something that really drove Percy in battle at least in one of the battles after Williamsburg Bridge. Heck, not only him connecting Ethan to Annabeth getting hurt but with Michael's death because he was there(even if he had nothing to do with it, Percy's at least gonna be frustrated with grief.)

The scene after Percy breaks the bridge is one of my favorites, because the small details. Kronos still looking a bit smug when he retreats. Percy's frantic search when he sees Michael's missing, HES SCREAM CARRYING INTO THE MORNING.

THE FACT MICHAEL DIES AS THE SUNS COMES UP,THAT HIS FINAL MOMENTS HE STILL GETS TO BE UNDER HIS FATHER'S LIGHT. THAT WILL RISES TO HIS POSITION AT DAWN-

And just. Michael Yew my beloved.

[vertumnanaturalis]

Actually, woe, an incomplete list of fanfic ideas I eventually want to write be upon ye

( Technically under the list of things that belong in the continuality of Floriography for the Recursive Funeral but 9 times out of 10 can stand on their own without it )

Tang going to work in geoponics like she told Cal she would during the pixie bean event , except now its a week later and she's at an emotional low and her hair is a knotted mess all of the smells, and sounds of geoponics are overwhelming her but she doesn't wanna just give up because she should be able to ignore her feelings like an adult already, and she doesn't want to ask for help because she's not a little girl who needs help anymore, but one of the adults who works in geoponics told her that she can't go work in the fields with her hair loose and it needs to be in a bun or in a tight braid she can tuck away, and she's been sitting at the entrance to one of the domes for like 20 minutes trying not to have a breakdown when Sol shows up. Cue Sol knowing how to help without forcing Tang to accept it or make her like a little kid (even if the genuine and gentle affection that respects her boundries makes her cry a little bit, not that she wants to tell Sol that & they won't push)

Dys and Nomi getting back from an expedition pretty early in their friendship and Nomi's parents having been waiting for them at the depot and oh they are SO excited to see their Nomi Nomi making friends, they were worried that there weren't going to be other kids their age working out in the jungle, because it's so scary and dangerous out there and all that, and wow son you look like a bundle of twigs whens the last time you had a good family meal :) ? And Dys gets pulled into a family dinner at Nomi's before the stun debuff can even wear off. [Tentatively named "Loving Home"]

Teenage Utopia having a Teenager moment on the Stratospheric a bit before her 14th birthday / around Sol's first birthday, where she's upset about [something to mirror the pixie bean stuff that Sol later goes through but like the spin the bottle part not alien bean drugs] because theres so many things (read: kissing and dating) she can't do or take part of because the next youngest Earthborne kid is already 18 and the oldest Shipborne kid is barely 10 - But, luckily, counciler Besk is here just for moments like these! And as always, she knows just what to say and when she just needs to listen, and it really does help Utopia feel better. Thanks stars for that, what would they do without counciler Besk??? [Tentatively named "Special Age"]

Early 20s Cal and Marz watching some romantic couple their age doing something romantic and Cal mentioning Tammy and Marz just turning to him and going "She's been gone a decade Cal, obsessing over your theoretical relationship with a dead 11 year old is getting a little creepy. Like. Seek help. You're 24. " which. Cal does not take gracefully. [Tentatively named "Seek Help"]

A bunch of the planetborne kids keep following Dys around and he asks Tammy about it, and she has to explain to him that he's like catnip to the average 4 year old in the way that batman or dinosaurs are (can't get scared of anything, goes outside and has adventures all day, gets to explore ancient ruins and see all sorts of cool scary aliens, doesn't have follow the rules or listen to anybody). [Tentatively named "Newfound Popularity"]

Anemone coming to dinner at Anne's place in the first time in ages after her mother keeps bothering her about it, and she arrives a little bit earlier than expected and catches the triplets at the end of some sort of argument that she can't hear before its over. Things stay calm for a little bit and Nem keeps being surprised at how much her brothers have grown while shes been focused on the garrison, often not knowing what their hobbies or interests are now, especially prominant with Nimbus as the youngest. It all culminates in the triplets earlier fight coming to the forefront again, at the heart of it being each one of them coping with the loss of Kom and the colony's situation in a very different way and their relationships with eachother deteriorating because of it, all while Anne tries to get them to keep it together so Nem comes back again, and while Nimbus doesn't seem to super react to it and instead keeps trying to get Anemone's attention while he can. [Tentatively named "Family Dinner"]

I might add on to this list later, because it is Not all of the ideas I have, and none of these are ones delving into other chains of timelines or other aus (of which I have... too many concepts...)

[cecilysass]

Pause (4/11)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: The Clothes I Died In

Scully sleeps exceptionally well in Mulder’s mysterious new bed.

So well that by the time she wakes up and sits up, bright white fingers of light are reaching across the room. Each finger is shot through with the glitter of swirling dust motes. This room needs to be cleaned, and badly.

Lifting her head and looking over the laundry and books scattered across the room, she finds herself again looking for the woman’s green sweater, the one lying on his bed yesterday. She wonders what Mulder did with it. It had vanished last night after he changed the sheets, and she imagines he must have stuffed it hastily into some drawer. Why did he hide it? Who does the sweater belong to?

She closes her eyes again. Mulder’s bed is comfortable. His sheets are soft and high quality, probably very expensive. It seems a significant step up from sleeping on the couch, and she can’t help but wonder what would have caused such a change. Cracking her eyes open, Scully trails her fingers over the smooth gray pillowcase.

Last night, before sleeping, she had burrowed her nose into the pillow experimentally after all. His distinctive scent wasn’t there; the sheets he’d put on the bed were too clean. She had simply turned over, feeling needy and ashamed.

His clock says 9:36, rather late for her usual sleep habits, at least in her apparently out-of-date memory. She leans her head back and forth side to side to stretch her neck and listens for a moment for any sounds in the rest of the apartment, but it seems quiet.

She contemplates getting up and taking a shower, but she’s discouraged by not having any clean clothes to change into. Right now she is wearing an old faded Quantico tee of Mulder’s, but she isn’t sure how many more items of clean clothing she can find in his apartment, much less those that can be sensibly worn by her.

She flops back down onto the pillow, closing her eyes again for a moment. As long as she stays here, she doesn’t have to go out there and face the reality of the situation. She doesn’t even know how to talk to a Mulder who doesn’t think she’s Scully. Or to encounter a world that has accumulated three additional years she can’t remember.

From his living room she hears the distant sound of a knock at the door. Scully sits up like a shot.

She hears the metallic clicks of Mulder unlocking and unlatching.

Who could it be? Who would he be letting in? She feels the sense of nauseating vertigo again, a little knife’s edge of fear that he might have betrayed her and called someone to take her away, to apprehend her as an impostor. She doesn’t hear anything clearly right away, and then she hears voices, speaking quietly.

“…very confused, very upset. The memory gap I told you about. But no, I don’t think she’s lying.” Mulder’s voice, hushed.

“Well, I want to see her. Right now. I’ll know if it’s her.”

It’s a whisper, but Scully recognizes it. Her mother’s voice. She clenches the comforter tightly, trying to hold back her full reaction. She wants to hear what they say.

“Maggie— I just don’t want you to… you have to remember this is very possibly not real. A convincing illusion. I don’t want it to be… painful.”

“I’m not a delicate flower, Fox.”

“I know, I know. It’s just it’s… so goddamn…” His voice drops down into a mumble and Scully can’t hear.

“Oh Fox,” her mother’s voice says, intense. “You aren’t a delicate flower either. You’re going to be okay, no matter what, you understand?”

More mumbling. “… And it will be just like it starts all over… I just don’t know if I can…” His voice is so broken.

“No. Nonsense.” Maggie says something else quietly that Scully can’t hear.

“She doesn’t know…” His voice drops away again. “…nothing about that last year, nothing about—”

“I understand, Fox.”

“…not really her.”

“You need to let me see her.”

Scully is already scrambling out of bed, sick with anxiety. She looks around for her jeans from yesterday to pull on under Mulder’s tee-shirt, and is just pulling them on when she hears him knock on the bedroom door.

“Hey,” he says through the door. “Are you awake? Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” she says, rapidly finger combing her hair, although she’s never before worried about looking especially polished with theses two people closest to her in the world.

He steps in the door, closing it behind him, and she notices that although he has on his pajamas pants and a tee-shirt, it doesn’t look like he’s slept much at all since last night. His face looks more haggard, not less, and the eggplant-colored half moons under his eyes more pronounced.

His eyes fall on her clothes. His jaw sets.

“What?” she says, looking down. “Oh, I borrowed your shirt. I had nothing to sleep in.”

“I noticed,” he says shortly.

“I’m sorry,” she says, taken aback by his reaction. “I don’t have any clothes.”

“I know,” he says. “It’s fine.” He rubs the back of his neck with a low sigh. “Your mom is already here. I called her this morning—I thought it better be me that broke the news. It’s kind of a shock. She’s eager to see you. Are you ready to talk to her?”

Scully nods, her forehead creased. She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

He regards her. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course,” Scully replies pointedly, her voice lowered. “I want her to believe it’s me. It will hurt if she doesn’t.”

Her eyes land on his face in time to see the shadow move over his features, and she regrets saying it. She doesn’t understand the full story yet, why he is so convinced she is dead. But she can hear the raw suffering in his voice as he talks to her mom. Whatever he has been through, maybe she should tread more carefully.

“Yeah,” he says with no expression. “Well, let’s go see what she says.”

Every muscle in Scully’s body tenses as she comes out of Mulder’s bedroom. Her mother sits straight and expectantly on the edge of his couch, and hops up right away when Scully walks out.

“Mom,” Scully says, her voice very small.

Her mother’s hair has more streaks of gray. She wears silver earrings Scully has never seen before, but the silver locket around her neck is recognizable: it’s one Scully bought her a few years back for Christmas.

Maggie Scully’s hand is clasped tight over her mouth, her knuckles white. Her eyes are saucer wide, fixed on Scully’s face.

“Hi, Mom,” Scully tries again, stepping forward.

Her mother makes a stifled sound. She’d told Mulder she wasn’t a delicate flower, but she looks fragile, like she is made of fine bone china.

“I know you’re shocked,” Scully says. She wants to come across as calm, as certain, but her smarting eyes are already betraying her. “I just can’t explain any of this rationally, except to say I’m somehow here. Alive.” She wipes the beginning of tears away impatiently.

Maggie, her hand still pressed over her mouth, takes a step towards her, her eyes now rapidly moving up and down Scully’s body as though she is taking in every detail.

In the background Mulder paces back and forth like an animal in a cage.

“It’s just hard to prove I’m myself,” Scully continues, her voice unnaturally high. “Do you want to ask me any questions? I can answer questions about when I was little if you want. About San Diego. About Charlie. About Melissa.”

Maggie removes her hand from her mouth now and blinks, her eyes wet.

“Please ask me anything,” Scully says. “I want to show you that I’m—”

She stops when Maggie reaches out and touches her shoulder, her fingers making contact through the fabric of Mulder’s tee shirt.

“It’s all right,” her mother says. Her voice is gentle. “It’s all right.”

Fear chills Scully. “What do you mean, Mom?”

“I see you, Dana,” her mother says. “I know it’s you.”

Her arms stretch outwards, and she folds Scully into a compressed embrace, so tight Scully can barely breathe. At first Scully is too shocked to let herself relax, still too taut with anxiety. But then she feels her muscles relaxing, her body sinking into her mother’ familiar arms.

This shouldn’t feel so good, Scully thinks. It’s so simple, the most basic of human interactions. Being known.

“Oh Mom,” Scully whispers. “Oh thank God.”

“That’s my line,” Maggie says, laughing a little, her voice muffled in Scully’s hair. “It’s a miracle. That’s the only possible explanation.” She pulls back to look at Scully again, pushing strands of hair away from her daughter’s face, her eyes wet.

“I hate not understanding what’s happened,” Scully tells her in frustration.

Her mother smiles rapturously at her, cupping her face in her hands, holding her cheeks so firmly she will probably leave handprints.

“I’m sure you do,” Maggie says, her voice thick. “But — we've thought for all this time that we’d lost you. This is just so wonderful. It’s … unbelievable.”

Scully remembers, then, about Mulder, who is now standing in the doorway to the room watching, gripping the door frame above with his hands, his expression tense and tight.

He sees her looking at him, and he smiles a small, closed-lip smile.

“Unbelievable,” he repeats. His tone of voice gives very little away.

***

Scully doesn’t observe it out loud, but she notices that Maggie stands at Mulder’s stove making scrambled eggs as though she has done it many times. She has brought the ingredients for breakfast with her, correctly assuming he will have nothing, but she sets to work in his kitchen like it is second nature.

In Scully’s memory, her mother has been to Mulder’s apartment maybe 2-3 times for visits of very limited duration — to pick Scully up when she was sick, to drop off something Scully needed before a trip out of town. Maggie has never, in her recollection, been in his kitchen.

Mulder and her mother have seemingly become much closer since her supposed death. That idea unnerves Scully, and she isn’t sure why.

“You cleaned up, Fox,” Maggie had exclaimed as she started setting out ingredients. “All the dishes are washed.”

Mulder, sitting at the dining room table with his head in his hands, had looked up and given Scully, standing in the kitchen doorway, a quick, significant look.

“I washed them last night,” she’d admitted to her mother, strangely guilty. “I was anxious and needed something to occupy myself.”

“Must have been quite a job,” Maggie had said in wonder. “But it looks so much tidier.”

“Yeah,” Mulder had said. “It does.” He rose to join Scully and Maggie in the kitchen, barely looking at her as he walked past. He’d eyed the counters of the kitchen warily, like it was a room that had been ransacked.

Now, as Maggie euphorically updates Scully on family news while moving around making toast and frying bacon, Mulder and Scully watch her, standing awkwardly side by side with cups of coffee in their hands.

“Tara has been talking about bringing Matty and the baby out here for a visit,” Maggie says, lifting slices of bacon from the pan to a plate covered with a paper towel. “I wonder if now they would consider coming sooner rather than later. I know they’ll be over the moon when they hear you’re back.”

Scully hears something that sounds like a tiny sigh coming from Mulder. It stokes a hot flare of anger in her. It’s one thing for him not to accept that it’s her; it’s another for him to begrudge her mother’s acceptance, her family’s joy.

Maggie doesn’t seem to hear him at all. “Do you mind cheese in your eggs, Fox? I know Dana likes it.”

“Cheese sounds good,” Mulder says dully.

“Bill might be able to get some leave and come, too,” Maggie continues, pushing the spatula around the pan. “It would be so good for him if he could. You have to understand—it was just so hard on him. The funeral, I mean.”

“Hard on Bill?” Scully says, more disbelief than she intends.

“Yes,” Maggie says. “Oh, he didn’t behave very well. Very poorly, in fact.” She turns and her eyes briefly fall on Mulder, who is looking intently away, his face stone. “But it was hard on your brother.”

Scully nods slowly, absorbing that information. There are so many questions she wants to ask here that she hardly knows where to start. There is so much that is strange about this. But it seems logical to start in the most obvious place.

“How did I die? What were the circumstances?”

She senses an uncomfortable shift in Mulder’s body adjacent to her. Her mother is facing away, dividing scrambled eggs between three plates, each crowned with buttered toast and several slices of bacon. No one responds for a moment.

Maggie turns around with heaping plates, handing one to Scully and one to Mulder.

“Let’s sit and discuss it,” Maggie says.

Sitting at Mulder’s dining room table requires pushing aside some of his piles of mail and papers, but they manage to clear a place for their plates. Mulder sits across from Scully and Maggie sits next to her with her own plate and cup of coffee.

Maggie’s eyes flash up expectantly to Mulder’s, holding a few seconds. He just stares back, his face a closed door.

Maggie turns to Scully, squeezes her arm.

“It was a Friday,” Maggie says, after a moment. “You had taken off work that morning. We had breakfast together, the two of us. Bagels at my house. We went to get our toenails done. A pedicure. We—we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and we were catching up…on everything. It was nice.”

Her mother’s voice is calm, but Scully notices that her hand, as she lifts her coffee cup to take a sip, is shaking slightly. She doesn’t even want to look at Mulder across the table. In her peripheral vision she sees his head angled downward.

“You were leaving my house to drive over here. You and Fox… had somewhere to be in the afternoon.” Maggie’s voice wavers a little now, too. “You were worried about being back in time.”

Abruptly, Mulder stands up, his chair scooting back with a screech.

“Fox,” Maggie says soothingly. “Fox, it’s okay. She’s right here. Eat breakfast.”

“Your car was hit,” Mulder says gruffly. “By a driver who had started the weekend early and ran a red light.”

“And you’re sure it was—” Scully begins.

“It was your car.” Mulder’s voice is short. He sounds almost angry. “There was a body to ID. It wasn’t especially recognizable, but … you had on the clothes you’d been wearing. Your cross necklace.”

Scully hasn’t thought of her necklace. She reaches up to feel for it around her neck, but she feels only bare skin. “I’m not wearing my necklace now,” she whispers. She’s troubled by this realization, that she hasn’t noticed her necklace’s absence.

“Yep. I noticed that,” Mulder says flatly. He sits back down, picking up the piece of toast and taking a determined bite.

“So possibly someone was faking her death, Fox?” Maggie asks. “Wanting you to think she was dead? Trying to convince you with the necklace?”

If that is true, thinks Scully, then where have I been since? Who kidnapped me? Who has been keeping me? Why have they returned me now? What has become of my memory?

Mulder shrugs a shoulder, taking another bite of toast. “I guess that’s a possibility,” he says. “But something more messed up than that is happening here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her clothes.” He swallows his mouthful. “She showed up yesterday in the same clothes.”

“The same clothes as what?” Scully says sharply.

“The pink tee-shirt, the jeans. The sandals,” Mulder says. He slows down his bites, looking down at his plate. “It’s what you were wearing that morning. When you went out with your mom. When I went to ID you.”

Scully puts down her fork. “Oh.” She looks at her lap, at the jeans she is wearing. She imagines Mulder going to identify her body, the body that wasn’t especially recognizable. That idea makes her want to throw up. “The clothes I died in.”

“You didn’t die,” Maggie says firmly. “You’re here.”

“Wearing the same clothes,” she says. “After a year has passed. That’s disturbing—like someone is intentionally sending a message.”

She isn’t sure why she keeps looking up at Mulder when she knows it will be painful. His coldness is like a small, sharp knife continually rooting into her side.

“Exactly,” he says.

“You think I could be a clone? Like the Samanthas?” Scully says, somehow keeping her voice steady and professional. “That’s your theory?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don't really have a theory. But something is wrong here—with this situation, with you.”

Another little rotation of the knife. Scully wills her face not to react.

“Fox,” her mother says, her voice very soft and pleading. “Fox.”

“Why does your memory stop in 1998?“ He seems to be lost in thought. “That seems significant. If someone were trying to … recreate Scully for whatever purpose. Why wouldn’t they recreate her memory until closer to the day she died?”

Maggie’s lips purse, and she sips her coffee with a tiny scowl. Scully can tell she doesn’t like this doubt being cast on the reality of her daughter’s miracle resurrection. Mulder doesn’t notice, staring at his food pensively.

“What happened immediately after I was stung by the bee?” Scully asks.

Mulder looks startled. “You were infected by a virus. Kidnapped. Taken to Antarctica. I found you there in an alien craft, gave you the vaccine, we escaped before it flew off.”

Scully frowns, overwhelmed by the epic, unbelievable scale of this story. By the casual way he describes the drastic steps he took to save her. She glances at her mother, who seems unperturbed. Perhaps she’s heard this whole elaborate tale before.

“Wait.” He tilts his head. “But that could be it. That’s when they last had easy access to you. They could have had an opportunity to tap into your memories then. They could have extracted them somehow— made some kind of back up, which they could… reinstall into another model.”

The twist of the little dagger again and again, deeper and deeper. The volume of her heart increases, until she hears it thumping in her ears like she is in active danger, like the dagger could hit her heart.

“Fox,” protests Maggie again, more firmly this time.

“That could be why you only remember up until that moment,” he continues. “It’s all of Scully’s memories they had access to.”

Her hurt makes her feel venomous. Mean-spirited. “Or maybe,” she says in a careful tone, “it was a decoy Dana Scully you rescued from Antarctica. Maybe it has been a clone of me with you these past few years, and I’m actually the original.”

Those words find their target. Direct hit. His face twitches, then shuts down all reaction again, but she can see a crease in between his eyes. She knows he is seriously considering the possibility of what she’s said, and that he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all.

“In any case, I’ll go home with my mom after breakfast, Mulder,” Scully says frostily. “I think it would be best. It obviously bothers you to have me here.”

He looks up, and she sees something like surprise and sadness in those familiar green eyes. As though he hasn’t really realized how horribly he is behaving. That quickly hardens into resignation.

“I don’t think you can do that.” He rubs his temples with his thumbs. “We don’t understand enough here. You could be… there could be something dangerous at play here. I think you should stay here for the time being. And limit going out.”

Scully again feels tears spring to her eyes. “Am I under guard?”

“No,” he says. “Nothing like that. This is about being careful until we understand more.”

“And how exactly will we understand more?“

“We’ll run a DNA test. It won’t tell us much if you’re a clone, but maybe there are other genetic indications we can look for. We can have the rental car checked out.”

Scully nods bitterly. She doesn’t like the idea of being a prisoner in Mulder’s apartment, having to come face to face with his painful aloofness. But at very least she needs him as a partner, as an ally in looking for answers.

“Was there anything else on you yesterday that might give us more information? In your pockets? On your body? Anything that could be construed as a message?” Mulder asks.

She shakes her head. “I had my keys with me. Were those found on my body?”

Mulder and Maggie exchange looks. “As a matter of fact, no,” Mulder says. “We were told they were lost with the car.”

“I had no holster, no ID,” she says.

“You weren’t armed when you left that day,” Mulder says. “You had the day off. You had a purse, but it was returned to us.”

“I do have a cut on my left hand. I suppose it could be some kind of defensive wound, although it’s in an awkward location.” She extends her hand to show him the thin red line.

Mulder, sitting across from her, squints at the cut. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s on the inside of your hand, closest to you. Hard to view it as a defensive wound.”

Suddenly Maggie’s hand clamps over her wrist. With wide eyes she lifts Scully’s hand closer to her face to examine it. “It’s a cut from a bread knife,” she says softly.

“How could you know that, Mom?”

“Because I saw you do it.” Maggie shakes her head disbelievingly, still staring at the hand. “I swear I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“That morning, the morning you died, you were cutting your bagel at my house, holding it with your left hand and slicing with your right. We were talking, and you cut yourself. It bled… you told me bagel cutting injuries were surprisingly common in emergency rooms.”

Scully pulls her hand back to look at it with her pathologist’s eyes. It is in the right place for a bagel slicing injury, and it is the right size to have been produced by a bread knife.

“But it can’t be the same cut,” Scully says. “After a year? Anything that minor would have healed long ago. That’s not possible.”

Mulder doesn’t move, staring at her hand.

“Let me see your toenails,” Maggie says sharply. “Show me.”

Scully withdraws her feet from under Mulder’s table to the floor in front of her mother, sitting next to her.

“I noticed before that they’re painted some kind of pink,” Scully says. “It’s not something I feel like I would pick out.”

“The color is Ballet Slipper,” her mother whispers. She leans down and touches Scully’s foot lightly with her fingertip. “You did pick it out. You picked the color out for both of us when we got our toenails done that morning at the spa. It matches your shirt. And our toenails matched… but mine are long gone, of course.”

“You’re sure it’s the same color?” Scully says.

“I’m sure,” Maggie says. “I had ample time to contemplate it after you died.”

Scully feels her stomach become unsettled again—thinking of her mother looking at her pale pink toenails, remembering her dead daughter and their matching pedicures. And yet her daughter isn’t dead, and my pedicure is apparently still perfectly preserved a year later.

Her own hands begin to creep over her jeans, her face, her hair, as though she could somehow feel by touch what was true and authentic about her own body. “I don’t understand,” she says. “How could these things be unchanged after so long?”

When she looks to Mulder, he has locked eyes with her mother with an intense expression on his face she doesn’t understand.

“Fox,” her mother says urgently. “You have to—"

“No.” His voice is low and absolute. “No.”

Scully watches her mother’s mouth set into a line. She knows the look well. Whatever they’re talking about, Maggie has made her decision.

“You get some time,” her mother says. “But then …” She raises her eyebrows. “I’ll give you some time, Fox. But this is not all up to you.”

Scully’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “Time for what?”

They don’t answer, still holding one another’s stare.

“What’s not up to him?” Scully says, her voice rising.

Maggie looks at her, new lines visible around her eyes. Her face transforms quickly into a smile. “Time to accept you being who you obviously are,” she says. “It’s not up to him to decide.”

“I’m trying,” Mulder says creakily, his eyes still on Maggie.

Scully takes a slow breath. Something is off here. And she hates it. She hates the feeling that there is important information she doesn’t know—that there are secrets her mother and Mulder, of all people, would conspire to keep from her. Her mood, already bleak, sours further.

“Oh Dana,” her mother says. She rises from her chair and puts her arms around Scully again, holding Scully’s head tight to her. “Please don’t worry about any of this too much. The important thing is that you’re here with us again. Try to focus on that.”

“I know, Mom,” Scully says, her cheek pressed against her mother’s abdomen. She doesn’t say what she is thinking, which is that she herself wasn’t aware of being gone at all, so being back isn’t the same giant relief for her that it is for her mother.

Her mom releases her to gaze at her face again. “We’ll convince Fox. You’ll see.”

Mulder says nothing, moodily pushing his eggs around with his fork.

“He’s been through a lot,” whispers Maggie, like he’s not right there, like he can’t hear her. “It’s natural he is going to be hesitant.”

Again Scully has mutinous, angry thoughts: You’ve been through a lot, too, Mom, and you had no trouble accepting me. And Mulder is someone who routinely accepts killer cockroaches and reincarnation and murder motivated by astrological phenomena.

“I’m sure,” Scully says coolly, looking down at her own plate. She decides to change the subject to something more practical. “Mom, do you know if I have any clothes left anywhere? I have nothing to change into.”

“I’m afraid we gave away most of your things,” Maggie says, distraught. “I may have a few boxes left. But I could also pick you up a few things from the store today. Would that be helpful?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Scully says. “Just basics. Something to sleep in, a few changes of clothes, underwear. I could use basic toiletries, too.”

“I’ll go right after we do breakfast dishes. Size 4, right?” her mother says. “32B?”

Scully’s eyes flash to Mulder again, instinctively self-conscious about announcing her bra size in front of him. But he doesn’t react to hearing it at all or even seem to process what she’s said. He stares at his plate, still idly moving his fork back and forth.

“Well,” Scully says. She lowers her voice to speak to her mother. “I think I’ve been gaining a bit in my more recent life, because these jeans are slightly small. Maybe size up everything a little, or look for something loose-fitting.”

She’s unprepared for the awkward silence that follows that seemingly benign statement. Maggie just blinks at her, then clears her throat. “Oh,” she says. “Of course, Dana. I think I can handle that.”

Across the table Mulder is now looking up, his eyes like burning coals. He tosses back and forth in his seat.

“I’m going out for a bit,” he announces suddenly.

Scully watches in astonishment as he stands abruptly, his chair scraping backwards. He clomps across the apartment, picks up his keys, and walks out the door without another word.

[strangerthingssimps-blog]

Joe keery x Reader

You were sat there watching Free guy, with your 7 year old daughter on disney plus. She loved the movie, she had watched it 12 times since it came out. You didn’t mind it either.

Keys came onto the screen..

“Mom, look it’s dad” She said pointing at the screen, you looked and saw your husband Joe on the scene. He was so gorgeous in any role he had. You had met Joe in college and you got married 2 years after college in 2012.

It was a beautiful wedding, your family flew all the way from England for the wedding. Joe’s mom and sister’s helped you pick out your wedding dress since your mother wanted nothing to do with the bridal side. She just turned up to congratulate you.

You never had a good relationship with your parents; they were always away on business trips while you were stuck looking after your younger brother. Your brother was a little angel. He was 11 at the time of your wedding.

You were getting ready and one of Joe's sisters said someone wanted to see you and then your little brother walked in the room wearing a suit and handed you some flowers. You started tearing up and gave him a massive hug.

Instead of your father walking you down the aisle, Your brother found it adorable how a little boy was walking his big sister down the aisle.

In 2016, Joe got the biggest role in his life as Steve harringron. He then grew as an actor and soon you was known as the wife of the famous Joe keery. It was weird at first but then you got used to it.

In 2017, You gave birth to your daughter. Joe was emotional when he saw his daughter for the first time. He had always wanted a daughter and now he had one. You both decided to name Grace Lillie Ann keery.

Here you were now in 2021 watching his newest movie where he was playing a geeky nerd. He still was good looking to you. It reminds of what Joe looked like when you first met in college all those years ago.

Grace had Brown hair and hazel eyes, she had inherited that from her father but she had your face shape and smile which Joe is thankful for. She was wearing her Scoops ahoy hoodie that she brough when season 3 came out. She loved meeting everyone when he took her on set. She was mostly fond of Gaten since she saw him the most.

3 months later…

Joe was in Indiana filming the fourth season of Stranger things, they were all in costume and they were on a break when all of sudden they heard..

“GATEN” They all looked to see your daughter running up to gaten. Gaten then picked her up while the cast members looked in awe,

Joe saw this and saw you and ran up to you, he was happy to see both of you and his other baby, he picked up his pet pomeranian that you got him for his 24th birthday.

Gaten then passed Grace around the cast members introducing her to Jamie and Joseph, Jamie was out of costume and Joseph was dressed as Eddie. Grace smiled and gave them both a high five. They accepted and gave her a high five back.

After everyone had held Grace…

“Daddy” Grace said running up Joe in his Steve Harrington Costume. Joe saw this and kneeled down and opened his arms so that Grace could land into his arms. Grace then jumped and landed into his arms and Joe pulled her close and gave her a giant hug.

“Oh no daddy you're hurt” Grace says as she looks at Joe who was wearing the outfit he was wearing when he went into the upside down world the first time. He has fake bite marks and scars and it upset Grace.

“NO DADDY” Grace says as she starts crying at the thought of her father being hurt. All the Cast then look at Grace in awwe. Grace then started to cry harder as Joe looked at her and started to comfort her.

“No sweetie daddy’s fine, it’s fake i promise you. It’s for the scene. Daddy’s not really hurt” Joe says while trying to calm your daughter down while tears fell down her cheeks.

“You promise” Grace said through some sniffles as she calmed down.

“I promise” Joe says reassuring your daughter while the cast members stood there in Awwe. On how good Joe was with her when she was upset. None of them not even gaten had ever seen her cry before so they were a bit shocked. A couple minutes later she calmed down and stopped crying.

You then went up to Joe and gave him a quick kiss before you took your daughter into her arms and rocked her to sleep.

“You better get back to filming, me and Grace will be sitting in your Trailer while you do this alright” You say as you say goodbye to the rest of the cast and put Grace back into the stroller and head to his trailer.

When you get there the trailer is in great condition as always, you still remember when Joe had to come shoot Season 2 and it was only a few weeks after Grace was born, he felt so guilty leaving you with a newborn so he made sure he got a new trailer to fit the needs of a Newborn so that you could come and stay in the trailer while he worked on scenes.

You then got Grace out of the stroller and laid her on the little bean bag that he bought for her to sleep on in 2018, when he was filming Season 3.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

What if Spider reported to Norm that Fike and Quaritch were in contact and a meeting took place?

Part 1 and part 2

I don’t think Spider would rat on Fike just because he doesn’t want his kids to end up like him. If he told Norm he’d tell him that his dad approached him at school and tried to have a conversation with him. Norm would move him immediately. I can see this going two ways.

The first way: Quaritch has already started the process of regaining custody and decides that that’s still the best course of action. Spider telling on him is definitely a bump in the road but Quaritch’s lawyer spins it saying (honestly actually) that Quaritch had no idea his son was there and went over with the intent of having dinner with his friend and nothing more. Fike would claim that he had no idea Spider was Quaritch’s son due to Spider’s last name not matching his father’s. The counter argument would of course be that Socorro was Paz’s maiden name and Fike knew her before she was married so how did you not put two and two together. Fike would just shrug and claim that he just hadn’t. Maybe they’d even pay off the judge

But the other option more in line with cabin: Fike can tell that Spider wants to get away. The kid has asked to borrow a phone and because he couldn’t say why Fike didn’t let him figuring he wanted to call his social worker. So Fike hides the phones away but first he calls Quaritch to formulate a plan. Quaritch is upset to hear it but he can’t let this opportunity go. He wanted the cabin to be more along- the structure is built and he’s gotten the garden started but he still needs to get a lot of furniture built, get the basement stocked with everything they might need and then get anything else he can’t carry airlifted in by one of his teammates - but the timing is to good to pass up on. So Fike tells Spider that he wants to take him shopping. Spider doesn’t think a thing of it. It’s not uncommon for a new foster family to want to buy him a new toy or a few new pieces of clothing. Fike drives for twenty minutes which does seem strange but Fike said he’s taking him to the good mall in the richer county. But when they get to the mall it looks abandoned. Theres only one car in the whole parking lot. They park right next to it. Spider starts panicking when he sees his father in the driver seat. “What’s going on,” he asks as Fike and Quaritch get out of their cars. He doesn’t get a response.

Fike opens the door to the passenger seat looking at least a little sad over the situation, “come on kid.” But Spider doesn’t. Instead he scrambles to get out the driver side door.

His father grabs him around the middle, “easy tiger. It’s alright….”

“Help!” Spider screams despite seeing what a ghost town the area is. “Somebody help me!”

(I know in my last post i gave an age range of 10-12 for Spider in this au so now I’m just going to pick the middle) Quaritch has no trouble prying his 11 year old out of the car. Spider might be tall for his age but he’s still really little and scrawny. For Quaritch the kid is like nothing. He wrestles his son into the backseat of his car as he kicks and screams. Quaritch gives him a little something to keep him calm but not knock him out, thanks Fike for everything then speeds off. Fike goes to the mall closer to home and makes a show of looking for his “missing” child. Manks volunteered to be a mall cop for a day and is in the office where he “accidentally” destroys the security footage for the day. After hours Fike calls the police claiming that his foster son has run away. He planted “evidence” in Spider’s room that would corroborate that story. A kidnapping is barely considered.

Meanwhile Spider is on the road trip from hell. He’s all loopy, the scenery going by in a blur. His dad is talking to him but the words are gibberish. Maybe he’s talking too? Or drooling? He can’t really tell until the drugs start to wear off. “Where are we going,” he asks when he can finally speak without slurring his words. His limbs still feel heavy and he’s super tired.

“Home,” Quaritch says simply. “Now you listen up. I’m your father and i love you very much. All i want is what’s best for y’a. I believe you’ll see that being with me is better than being kicked around the foster system. You’re just used to that right now. I’ll show y’a how good life will be with your family….”

“I’ll scream. I’ll run away as soon as i can…”

His dad laughs, “oh I’m sure you’ll try. But i will tan your hide if you step out of line, understood.” Spider hisses at him. Quaritch shakes his head, “you’ll learn.”

Spider is sat in the middle of the backseat with some kind of bright red child lock on the buckle of his seatbelt. He can’t reach the windows to bang on the glass in the hopes that someone will see him. No doubt the doors are child locked too. “Let me out!” Spider shouts, “let me out, let me out, let me out!” His dad just turns up the music. Spider screams himself horse trying to break the man but it doesn’t work. When his throat starts to ack painfully he finally quiets.

Quaritch turns down the music then holds out a bottle of water to him, “thirsty?” Spider glares as he swipes the bottle from his hand. His dad chuckles as he watches him drink. After about twenty minutes of silence Quaritch asks, “can we talk?”Spider’s throat feels swollen so he’s pretty sure he can’t talk so he simply glares. “Come on kid, you can’t tell me this isn’t for the best. I’ve been checkin’ in on you for years so I know you haven’t always had good foster placements. They never cared for y’a. But I love y’a! You’re my boy and I’d do anything for y’a. I know you’ve been told I’m dangerous and that this all probably doesn’t change that. But hear me out. I went to prison for taking revenge on your mama’s killer. I beat him within an inch of his life. But I didn’t kill him! He woke up from his coma and now he’s a middle manager at his daddy’s company. He’s doin’ just fine but I lost everything! I lost my wife, my freedom and most important I lost you. And then I did everything the courts told me to do to get y’a back. But the courts were corrupt! They let your mama’s killer get off with community service. They kept you away from me! In what world do you keep a loving father away from his child! That’s why I couldn’t trust it again. But I had to get y’a back. All I want is what’s best for y’a. I’ll break every law in the book for that.”

The account gives Spider a lot to think about. He can see his father’s point of view. He’s happy his mom was avenged but it’s also terrifying thinking of his father nearly killing a man with his bare hands. The fact that his mom’s killer didn’t get life in prison boils his blood and definitely makes him believe the courts are corrupt. Maybe they were wrong to take him away from his dad. Maybe his dad is just trying to save him from a life in the system.

They pass state lines. He’s not really sure how far away Missouri is from D.C but he’s sure it’s far. “We’re coming up on a rest stop. Y’a need to use the bathroom?” Spider just nods too stunned by the distance they’ve traveled to respond.

They pull off at a gas station. Quaritch refuels the car leaving Spider locked inside. Once he’s done he slides into the backseat next to Spider. “What’cha thinking tiger. Y’a want to stay with papa?”

Spider bites his lip to stop it from trembling and shakes his head no, “you’re scary.”

Quaritch sadly pats his shoulder, “I don’t have to be. Now we’re going to go inside. If you’re good I won’t have to be scary. But if you’re bad and try to tell any of the nice people inside what’s going on, well then, I might have to show y’a what I did to your mama’s killer.” Spider turned white as a ghost. “So y’a gonna be good?” He weakly nods. His dad smiles and undoes the child lock on his seatbelt. When Spider steps out of the car Quaritch smiles and holds out his hand for him to take. Spider looks around at all the people, the mom with her kids refueling their van. The many different adults getting gas on their way home from work. Could his dad hurt all of them? Spider couldn’t let him hurt any of them. So he takes his dad’s hand.

First they use the restroom Spider in a stall, Quaritch the urinal so he can block any escape attempt. As soon as their hands are washed and dried Quaritch grabs Spider’s hand again. Spider hangs his head as he’s led around the connivence store. He’s gotten lucky with his last few foster placement who had respected it when he’d said he was growing his hair out. Now it was just long enough to hide his face and he was so thankful for it. He didn’t want anyone to see him and possibly give his father a reason to hurt them. “Do you want any snacks?” Spider stays quiet. His dad picks out a few bags of chips and some beef jerky. “How about some candy?” Quaritch gently tucks some of Spider’s hair behind his ear, taking away his hiding place. He picks out some sour skittles just to keep him happy. “And how about a hotdog? Or do y’a want a corn dog instead?”

“Corn dog,” Spider mumbled

“What was that?”

“A corn dog please.”

His father smiles, stroking his hair. “You got it kiddo.”

They get to the register where Quaritch pays for everything plus the gas in cash. The young cashier gives Spider a sympathetic smile. “Aw what’s the matter sweetie,” she asks.

Spider looks at her like a deer in the headlights. He can’t think of a lie and so instead he shyly hides behind his dad. Quaritch gives him a sad smile dropping his hand only to pull him into a side hug and rub his shoulder. “He’s having a bad day,” Quaritch says, “he lost his soccer game this morning and he’s still really upset.”

“Aw, it’s okay! You’ll get’em next time.” Spider refuses to look at her but she doesn’t give up. “What’s your name?”

Spider startles looking up to his dad for an answer. “Go on. Tell this nice young lady your name.”

That instantly makes him know exactly what answer his dad is wanting. “Miles,” he says reluctantly.

“Well Miles,” she reaches into a freezer off to the side of the counter pulling out an ice cream cone dipped in chocolate, “here’s a treat. Everything will get better soon.”

“What do you say son.”

“Thank you,” it’s taking everything in him not to cry.

But once they’re back on the highway Spider finally breaks down. He never allows himself to cry but now he just can’t help it. He’s sobbing, hyperventilating, tears and snot pouring down his face. He doesn’t realize when Quaritch pulls over. Suddenly he’s wrapped up in his dad’s arm, being rocked and shushed as circles are rubbed into his back. “You’re okay. Ssshhh, you’re okay. You did such a good job. Good boy. You’re my good boy.” Spider cries until there’s nothing left in him. He lays his limp head down, feeling absolutely dead inside. He’s a monster. A total psycho. How the hell am I going to get away from him. 

I’ll end it there but I totally have more ideas if you’re interested. Thanks again for reaching out! I always love hearing from people 💞

[princess-of-the-corner]

Amnesia Dabi: What is Fuyumi's initial reaction to the "Everything"?

In canon and presumably in CC she had a hard time accepting how bad the situation really was. In a timeline where Touya's death got Enji to be less terrible she would probably have an easier time of it, even if Natsuo and Shouto don't reconcile with Enji.

Also, what is her first reaction at finding out about Dabi?

So I'm gonna go on a few different tangents here on like.

Fuyumi's optimism isn't denial. Not exactly. She's aware that things are fucked. What she /doesn't/ accept is that it can't be fixed. Fuyumi has solid memory of when things were better in the family. She /knows/ that, with some help, they can fix things. Not perfectly, of course, there was damage done, but as best they can.

Now this can push some buttons for the rest of the family. Enji himself is the one in the most denial about things being fucked(he's a little aware but in canon/cc he's going 'I can fix this if I just keep going'). Natsuo is ready to cut his losses and get away, even though he does entertain Fuyumi's optimism enough to keep showing up, but he has serious doubts that anything can change. Shoto, as much as he loves Fuyumi, doesn't understand her optimism because he's too young to have many good memories of the family. But he's also kinda stuck here being the baby of the family and hasn't fully decided on things. Meanwhile, in canon and cc, Toya is very full of rage and wants Enji to answer for his crimes.

All the kids reactions to their situation is pretty valid and understandable.

Now for the Amnesia!Dabi AU:

With Enji fixing things when Toya dies instead of doubling down, this is going to change some things by the time canon comes around and there's two factors to that

1.) the time. This AU would be focusing on current time, so Toya has been 'dead' for years and the family has had time to heal. Time for Enji to work on his shit and to do his best to make up for his mistakes, time for Natsuo and Shoto to realize that this is genuine and get used to the new dynamic.

and

2.) the ages. Shoto and Natsuo are younger when this change happens. Shoto is 11. Natsuo is either 14 or 15 depending on when in the year this happens. Them being younger helps with the shift as well.

Swinging over to Fuyumi: in between the grief of Toya's death, she's glad that things are changing. There is some upset to it. Did it really have to take Toya's death for Enji to realize things are fucked? But she's good at accepting that and it's in her nature to fix things, so the fact that things are being fixed helps her.

The reaction to the Dabi situation as a whole is. It's A Lot™.

At first there's the initial 'oh my god he's alive and he's okay' thing. Which is confusing and exhausting but also how can you not be happy about it?

But then there's the amnesia stuff. Which puts that 'he's alive' relief on hold because he's 'alive' but he's not fully 'back'. It's Toya but it's Not™. He feels like a ghost haunting the family for a while. A stranger wearing her brother's face. Fuyumi feels touch of jealousy because he talks about Himiko the way he used to talk about her. (it gets better as his memory starts returning, but sometimes she'll mention an old joke and he'll just stare at her)

Of course there's also the fact that Toya in general is just Not Okay™. He's clearly been through so many kinds of hell, between dying and whatever was done at that shady ass clinic he woke up in then living on the street with no memory and joining a group of villains.... plus the more they trigger his memory the more they also trigger trauma responses so he's having a hell of a time with that too.

It's. It's a lot.

[cringelordofchaos]

My TMF Sadie hcs!!

Serbian + Ashkenazi Jewish

+ slight Saudi Arabic ancestry (I'm pretty sure a mutual posted this hc once so I stole it ... (I think it was you rory?? idkk))

Autistic as fuuuuck. (But not diagnosed)

Used to admire daisy from afar during middle school (GAY-) but was too shy to approach her

Demiromantic asexual lesbian bc i say so

Really close to her grandma

Generally gets along much better with elderly people rather than ppl her own age

Into Slavic paganism

Celebrates traditional eastern Orthodox holidays w her family (like Slava n such)

Genuinely has no friends but Daisy and like she sometimes sort of talks to Elliot (and Elliot n daisy and the teachers r practically the only people outside her family who aren't avoidant of her)

Sortt of tired of people constantly being scared the hell out of her

As opposed to her reserved personality, almost everyone in her family is extra loud and extroverted

Has three younger siblings, was sortt of forced to grow up a bit quicker

Really tries to be polite and well mannered and doesn't understand why people dislike her or fear her

Good grades

Sensory issues for meaty food (yuck)

knows something no one else does

Barely goes outside (implied to be canon in an Instagram post by RosyClozy)

Also believes møther might be real

Agnostic too ?? 😵‍💫😵‍💫

This is getting a bit confusing lmao

Genuinely thought she didn't mind not having a single friend until daisy made her realize that holy shit friends are actually. An important part of her life

She becomes friends w Lia at one point too btw too tired to bother to explain

I'm supposed to be studying right now I hate everything

Ermmm

Cat person

Her parents constantly nag her on to make new friends, and to go outside more often and to get more friends than just daisy (especially since daisy is busy quite often)

Her parents forced her to take folklore lessons when she was younger, fuckijg hated it bc she never liked physical activities in general

Sensory issues to light, genuinely sorta upset by brighter colours, the PE teacher is aware of this so they let her wear a darker shirt (,: (ep5 for reference)

Barely speaks out loud but her mind is full of random shit 24/7 and her literature teacher is horrified by her and her writing

Moved to USA Rosemeadow around 9-11 years old

Visits the graveyard quite often. For reasons.

Anygay

Boye bye

[irotinmyroom]

creepypasta oc art + backstory dumpp

i havent really posted anything of my own for a while now soo.. yeah! ive had his story put together for a while now, but im finally putting it out there!! (ive delayed it for the longest time)

so his story / details about him are just gonna be put together in categories since i havent really fully made a fleshed out backstory for him yet, its just really a bunch of ideas i wanna put together once i get back to writing again

ok now heres my actual oc, sorry for the yap session 😭

Name “Elias Finn Collins” 

Birthdate “August 27, 2006” 

Appearance “Right eye blind because of manically scraping the skin off with his nails of that side of the face in a panicked state, scar of scraped off skin still there” + “Peeling and loose skin around the scar due to the depth and long-lasting effects of the injury” + “Since the wound was originally caused by fingers scraping and digging into the skin, all different layers of skin are somewhat exposed, varying from a lot of reds and salmons” + “Also makes the depth of the scar vary“ + “Has a habit of picking the healed area, which is mostly scabbed over due to so much picking, so it is usually bleeding.” + “Ragged scarring around the scar due to what caused it” + “Ragged scarring around the neck as well due to scraping with his nails under the belief that something was under his skin” + “Picks and scratches at his neck too, causing it to always be raw and/or scabbed over” + “Slight stubble on chin” + “Left eye is green, right eye is a greyish-white (Blind)” + “Wears a leather, black and worn out motorcycle jacket with brown fur on the hood” + “White t-shirt underneath” “Worn out denim jeans” + “Dark blue/Black converse with fur on the inside” + “Hair is dark brown fading to a dirty blonde” + “ 

Personality “Introverted” + “Takes a while to warm up to anyone” + “Feels paranoid most of the time” + “Anti-Social” + “A bit childish in the way he acts sometimes” + “If he gets upset or mad, he’ll usually resort to physical violence, whether that be aimed towards someone or just throwing things around”

Habits “Picking his skin/unhealed scabs” + “Fidgeting with his fingers and anything else he has in his hands when anxious” + “Bouncing of his leg whenever nervous or just impatient” + “Talks to himself sometimes” 

Backstory (Unfinalized, just a bunch of ideas) “He had an average life up until he was around 11” + “Though, he was constantly being picked on by other kids due to his awkward nature, parents being split apart and him living with his father, etc.” + “His older brother, who is somewhere around 4 years older than him, wasn’t around his father’s place much though. His brother was always out with friends, breaking into cars and stealing them, coming home drunk, etc. The little time that Elias did spend with his brother was pleasant, through a shared interest of gaming, etc. His older brother was pretty caring for Elias though” + “His father and him were close up until when Elias hit about 10 years old, as Elias became more distant and started lacking interest in things he used to enjoy.” + “Elias wasn’t really into what his father wanted him to do though, leading to his father becoming somewhat bitter towards him. This was due to the 'lack of masculinity’ that Elias had, and because as Elias grew older, he reminded his father more and more like his mother” + “Him and his mother had a very good relationship up until when his mother and father split. She would always be there for him, and always told him that nothing he did could stop her from loving him. To say the least, she was caring towards him and was definitely more open than his father”

“Him and his brother had to stay with their dad due to financial troubles on their mom’s side. Their father split away from their mom due to constant arguing” + “After they split, (they were never married, only dating since they both had commitment issues) their mom couldn’t find a job and couldn’t keep providing for herself, leading to her overdosing on pills and dying. This took a huge toll on Elias, who was only 10 at the time. Not so much his brother, since his brother was more of his father's child” + “Elias had been the one to pick up the phone, hearing from a policeman about his mother's overdose” + “He immediately broke down into tears, disappearing into his room for a few weeks, only coming out late at night to get food and water” + “Eventually, after he finally came back out of his room and saw his father and brother, they could immediately tell a difference. He was no longer interested in anything he used to enjoy, seeming more paranoid and anxious. He barely talked at all anymore, a small contrast from before but still there nonetheless.” + “His life went on like this for a while, as he kept more to himself rather than going out and talking to people” + “Behind closed doors, he started seeing things. He had started seeing figures out of the corner of his eyes, varying in shapes and sizes, but mainly, a slim tall man. He never got a good glimpse at it, though” + “Eventually, around 14 years old, the seeing things, hallucinations and delusions got worse for him. He went a bit manic, thinking worms were under his skin, causing him to hastily grab at and scrape off the skin surrounding his right eye in an attempt to ‘get them out’.” + “His brother found him in his room, sprawled out on the floor and passed out with scraps of skin and a puddle of blood beside him. This freaked his brother out, immediately calling for his father as he looked at Elias’ unmoving and bloody face on the ground” + “They took him to the hospital, diagnosing him with Schizophrenia and being unable to treat his wound. This would leave a scar for life on Elias, including partial blindness in his right eye” + “The doctors at the hospital talked to his father and brother about sending him to a mental hospital for his safety, so that’s what they did” + “He fought back and expressed how much he didn’t want to go, and that ‘they’re out to get him’, yet his father and brother still just sat there and watched as the truck Elias got shoved in took off, taking him to the mental hospital” + “His life was an endless loop for around two years, until one day, he went manic again” + “Under belief that there were ‘spiders crawling down his throat’, he once again hastily scraped at his neck, causing a ragged bleeding wound around his throat. A few security officers rushed into the room as he was in this state. In delusional haste, he quickly and angrily dug his nails into one of the officer's faces, cutting through the skin. At the unintended distraction, he quickly sped out of his room, heading towards the nearest exit with blurry vision” + “He was quickly reported as missing, a police search being sent out but them being unable to find him.” + “After he got out, he ran and ran until he was far enough away. He ran into a nearby forest, it being nighttime by the time he got there.” + “He had to survive there for another year, living off of animals to eat for survival. Until he turned 17” + “He didn’t know he had turned 17, as he had already lost track of time. He had still been seeing things for the past two years he was in the forest, having more small manic episodes where he would pick, scratch and bite at his skin. But he had still been seeing figures. Specifically, the tall one. One day, eventually, the tall figure approached him, and despite obvious resistance, the tall figure took him back to his broken-down manor in the woods.” 

anndd heres my art of him

most recent art of him vVv

still very unfinalized but i really wanted to share him cause i love him <3

[anxxyy]

I Can't Walk Away ✦ Prologue

The clock ticks, proverbially as Dani stares at her phone screen when the 11:59 morphs into 12:00 AM.

As if like a magic trick, she wanted that strike of midnight to match the pop of a notification but this was what she got for having such an expectation. Disappointment. She always did give five minutes, maybe even fifteen before being royally pissed at Zeph for not doing well on his promises again.

It was that stupid game, Dani thinks, PVP and needing a third-party call server to communicate with his friends, eating away at his time for anything. His time for her. And as much as she loved to believe that he wasn't that bad of a boyfriend, she was about to leave for another city in three months and the least he could do — the least he could do was show up in her inboxes to tell her he's ready for their nightly calls that got slowly dwindled and stopped the moment he got into that game. Stupid ass game.

10 minutes. That grey background paired with a bright icon catches her eyes as his username pops up, @_zhyphyrr, comes with a slew of messages, ones she could barely pick up on as she immediately sits up straight off her bed and scrolls down to preview his messages, as far as the user interface allows her to see.

_zhyphyrr: Angel, I'm so sorry I'll call rn, swear. I got caught up in a match, I'm sorry angel I'm good to go now, just say when

And Dani doesn't know if she'd let her blood boil or let it pass one more time. Just one more, another to tide over a very serious talk they had to have the moment they had a chance to meet each other again because college applications and transitions were hectic and despite them sharing the same school, they did not share the same block nor same subjects. With her lower lip stuck beneath her teeth, she sucks in an exasperated breath and taps to open his chat box, the interface shifting from her wallpaper to black as the bubbles float in.

Took you long enough. She replies

And that was the only message Zeph needed to prompt the screen into a calling one. Dani waits for a few seconds more, what she lacked in spite she made up for in pettiness.

"What took you so long?" she immediately asks with a frown the moment she answers Zephyr's call, her video coming into his feed as he places his phone seemingly against his PC, still wearing his goddamn headphones with one ear out. "Are you seriously still playing, Zeph?"

"Listen, angel, I'm so sorry, I just need to finish this round," he apologetically says. "You know I cannot just pause it,"

The frown on her face was more than noticeable as she begrudgingly props her phone up on a small holder on her desk. She didn't want to verbally complain but her face had a tendency to reveal all her secrets when unchecked. And she definitely wasn't going to do the checking now.

"Angel, I know you're upset. I'll make it up to you, I promise," Zeph says upon noticing his girlfriend's less than pleased expression. And she knew he would. Even with his now lack of time tendencies flaring up, he knew how to get to her good graces. Whether it was showing up to her side of the campus unprompted, a drink and a snack in tow, a sweet handwritten poem delivered to her like it was the Victorian times, or anything he could do within his 18-year old power to make her happy again.

So, she let it slide.

"Just finish the game Zeph," she says through a sigh, patiently waiting for him to finish with her knees pressed to her chest, grabbing her laptop to at least get some work done while his game played in the background.

And after another ten minutes, 12:23 coming to a crawl, she could finally hear him say his goodbyes to the people he played. She recognized most names, mostly their online aliases like Pig, Anderson (too on the nose for her taste), Prism, and the like.

Until she hears a new one 'Callea'.

"So, what do you wanna do tonight?" Zeph asks, finally removing his headphones as Dani sighs and lowers her laptop a little to see his face properly. "Should we watch something? Maybe even teach me that damn game you're always playing?" she ask softly, trying not to come across too bitter.

"What do you wanna watch angel?" he asks. And she drops it.

"Death Becomes Her?"

"Sure angel. Do you want some food delivered to you?"

“Oh, what about this one?” Dani asks with a smile as she turns to Zeph while she shops for farewell gifts for her circle of friends, holding a small pig plush with a cow hoodie. “Jade loves all things pig and pink,” she hums as Zeph chuckles and nods.

“Then get it angel. It does look cute,” he says, holding the shopping basket and her bag for her, trailing right behind his girlfriend. She takes a good look at the other variation line-ups and nods at her choice as she places the plush down the basket and resumes her position beside Zeph, slotting her fingers against his big ones. 

“What else…” she hums as a particular brightly colored card game catches her eyes. It was basic enough, like Cards Against Humanity or Truth or Drink. She tugs Zeph along and inspects it, a red box small enough to fit his palm at least. The Club for Couples. 

“Lets get these for ourselves,” she suggests with a teasing grin but Zeph readily reciprocates the sentiment as he takes the box from her. “Sure. I'll pay,” he immediately offers as she raises a brow. 

“We're seriously gonna get it?” 

“Of course angel. It looks fun,” Zeph chuckles and sets the box down the basket.

Dani hums and smiles as their hands find themselves tangled upon each other again, mere muscle memory at that point as they walk around the store a little more. 

It was a small moment of reprieve out of their busy schedules, going on an errand date together. Every once in a while either of them checked their phones but for the most part, from walking around to falling in line, their conversation has never reached a standstill, always somehow in the same wavelength as each other's. Always in sync, never faltering. 

 Once they get back to Zeph's apartment, Dani immediately pulls the little card game out, padding to his bed as she catches a quick glimpse of his message lists. She was never one to actively ask for it, her trust in him implicit and unwavering so when she gets to his side, she focuses on unfeeling the box from its plastic wrap nearly fused to the card game itself. 

“How does it work?” Zeph asks and scoots closer to her, watching her open up the box and take the instruction pamphlet out. She hums and peruses quietly before reading the instructions out loud. 

“There are four types of cards, the warm-up consisting of light hearted questions, the dare which prompts your significant other to a dare,” Dani shrugs and glances up at him, “Pretty self explanatory,” she adds as he chuckles.

“Yeah. Go on,” 

“There's getting serious, which asks deeper questions with a follow up, and then soul ties which requires both parties to answer the question,” she reads the summary as Zeph takes the cards out and starts shuffling them.

As they play, they go through certain questions that they've already known. Only rehashed by more information or supplementary to such. A handful of dare cards needing them to dance or sing — all without shame. 

Zeph pulls out another one. “Oh, a soul ties question. ‘What would be the cause of a break-up?’ Geez,” he chuckles as Dani rolls her eyes as she laughs. “Pretty shady for a couple game,” 

“Do we still answer?” 

“Sure. Only serves as the test for just how far we are from breaking up,” Dani beams as Zeph nods in agreement with a fond smile. “You go first then,” 

“I guess for me, just in general is deviation. Cheating, essentially,” Dani shrugs as Zeph hums in agreement, missing the slight glint of guilt that passes his eyes. “Like, whether it's emotional, physical…does digital count? As long as its deviation, with obvious intention, is what ends a relationship,” she explains casually with a shrug. 

And as Zeph gives his answer, he pulls out a dare card, the tension in his chest dissipating only to come back. 

“Dare. ‘Show your first ten contacts’,” he hums and unlocks his phone, immediately handing it to Dani as she does the same. He scrolls through her's, and it was the usual contenders, the people he knew. People he was friends with too. A group chat, Jade, then Eaton, then Alyssa, then another group chat, then Roscoe, then another group chat. 

Then dread seeps through his chest. “Hey babe…who the hell is ‘Game Wife'?

“Then he explained that the girl set their nicknames at that,” Dani sighs as Jade's jaw dropped. “And…please don't tell the others. Not yet. Not until I figure out what to do,” she whispers as Jade's grip around her arm tightens. 

“I won't, Dan.” Jade softly says, caressing her arm gently as they peer out the campus window, looking down at the rolling pavement scantly littered by student at such an hour. “But…how are you feeling? Talk me through your process girl,” 

Dani scowls and let's out another deep sigh. “He said he didn't think it'd be that serious for me. That he thought I trusted him, and I do. I did, Jade. That's why I'm finding out about this only now,” she says in distress, biting her lip. 

Danielle Anderson had a bad streak in relationships. Inherent immaturity was a certain contributor to that factor, needing to think about the shit she got into when she was fourteen, then fifteen, then now. She knew that most high school relationships weren't built to last but despite that she fell back on the mindset that she and Zeph were seniors now. She was one step away from her eighteenth birthday and Zeph just turned nineteen not long ago, she was banking on the promise of maturity. 

And she promised herself that a single moment of disrespect would deem the end of a relationship. So why was she hesitating now? 

“He's perfect. Zeph,” she mumbles, a little dazed. “As compared to the others? Jade, he's such a far cry from that,” 

And Jade listens, closely and quietly as she holds onto Dani. “I- I don't know. The fact that he thought it wasn't a big deal hurt my feelings, and especially now that he's mad at me for being mad at him…and that he hasn't done anything to stop that ‘Callea’,” she sighs.

“Does it even count as cheating? I mean Alyssa…I joke around that she's my wife and Zeph jokes that Eaton is his husband,” Dani laughs, strained and muted as Jade finally speaks up.

“Because you and Alyssa know that it would never turn into anything serious. She does it for the joke but never took it seriously,”

Dani glances at her with a small frown. “Even Alyssa is my wife. But you won't ever see her philandering with someone who A, isn't even her friend, and B,” Jade takes a deep breath, “Someone she knows is taken. You clearly know something that I don't that prompts such a visceral reaction from you,” 

“But it's just one mistake from Zeph, it's not like he's perfect. I've come to terms with the fact that there are times he isn't the perfect person,”

“The moment he let that nickname stay was the moment it turned into a choice, Danielle,” Jade sternly says. “A mistake is not noticing the time when you play, and miss a call with your girlfriend. A mistake is accidentally getting a cold foam instead of chai because of your messy schedules, a mistake is definitely not getting a gaming wife like he thinks you're daft,” 

Dani gulps and looks at Jade with uncertainty as her friend sighs. “Whatever you do, I'll try to understand. But I promised you that I'll help you uphold your no tolerance policy on dating,” Jade softens her voice back down to a whisper. “The moment you let this slide, it could only get worse from here,” 

Dani nods, slow and contemplative. She was about to leave for another city in a few months time, did she really want her send-off to be on a bitter note. The disappointment she had was immeasurable, her heart starting to fray at its seams. 

And with the looming error of her previous relationships, anxiety had her in a chokehold. Would she value her self-respect to it's higher degree or acknowledge that maybe Zeph could change from this, only a small setback on their relationship. 

Would she be able to forget it? She was known for holding long grudges. Could she honestly tell her self it didn't matter whenever she looked at Zephyr? Was tolerance needed?

Night falls upon them, and she acquieces into a decision. 

Zephyr's phone pings in a notification, his heart immediately dropping to his stomach, feeling bile churn as his mouth goes dry.

I'm breaking up with you.  You can no longer reply to this conversation.

⚘

full chapters coming soon here in tumblr and your local wattpad | writersky

this is an original work. do not repost in any other form. minors dni.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Anonymous

Published: Feb 8, 2023

• An anonymous student speaks out about transgender ideology in her school  • The student, aged 14, attends a state secondary school in South-East England • Claimed teachers say Lady Macbeth non-binary and girls wear breast binders

She’s 14 and attends a co-educational state secondary in South-East England — where she says one in ten children in her year identifies as trans or non-binary. After becoming increasingly upset by the school’s acceptance of transgender ideology, this female student has decided to expose the truth about life in an ongoing culture war.

The other day, I went to the school office to get a new copy of the timetable. The teacher I spoke to used ‘they/them’ pronouns about me, asking another member of staff, ‘they have lost their timetable, can they have a new one?’

He knows me really well and it’s clear that I’m a girl. I felt furious he didn’t just say ‘she’. But it’s not just the odd teacher here or there; I am regularly asked if I am in the process of transitioning.

There is a gender-neutral uniform policy at school and lots of the girls wear trousers. Those of us that do are often asked if we are transgender, especially if we have short hair, as I do.

The fact a girl likes playing video games, or doesn’t like feminine clothes or make-up is enough to be seen as potentially trans. When my mum complained about me being called ‘they’, the teacher apologised but explained he was being cautious in case I was transitioning. He said the teachers are treading on eggshells, scared of being labelled transphobic.

It feels like trans is all anyone talks about. The library has a section devoted to LGBTQQIA+ books and there is a display for Pride in the school entrance, with rainbow flags and words and terms such as ‘non-binary‘, ‘polysexual’, ‘demiboy’, ‘demigirl’ and ‘pansexual’. These words come up in lessons, too. I’m now in Year 10, and the other day a girl in my English class asked if the Greek god Zeus was a man or a woman and the teacher replied that Zeus could have ‘identified as non-binary’.

More recently another teacher said Lady Macbeth was ‘neither a man nor a woman’. I think most parents will have no clue this is what their kids are being taught.

So I’m glad the Education Secretary Gillian Keegan is set to tell schools they must be more open about their handling of trans issues. I would be too scared to say this at school, though. I would lose my friends if I did, as they’re completely intolerant of anything they think is transphobic.

That’s what made me decide to speak out here — without giving my real name.

When I started at my secondary school four years ago, I didn’t even know what ‘transgender’ meant. It hadn’t been talked about in primary school or at home. But within days, we were told by a teacher in our PSHE (personal, social, health and economic education) class that we would be seen as ‘transphobic’ if we used any of the ‘offensive words’ from a long list, which included ‘gender bender’ and ‘butch’.

I had no idea what transphobic meant, but I could tell it was definitely something I didn’t want to be seen as. At that age, when you are told something at school you just believe it. We trusted that what the teachers told us was true. 

But I did ask my mum about it later. She is a feminist and is critical of students being dictated to. She said that often it depends how you use words — that people within queer communities have used ‘gender bender’ as a positive way to describe themselves and that ‘butch’ is used by lesbians to describe other lesbians who are quite masculine in appearance.

While still in my first year, 11-year-old girls in my class began asking to be called ‘he’ or ‘them’.

Soon afterwards a number of others were doing the same. It felt as if they joined in because it meant they were seen as cool.

You get special treatment if you say you are trans or non-binary and suddenly become the centre of attention when you ‘come out’.

As soon as a girl says she is a boy, her name is changed on the school register and students are told to use their chosen boy’s name.

Now, out of 200 students in my year, at least 20 say they’re trans — almost all are girls claiming to be boys or non-binary. Although there is one boy saying he’s a girl, this really is largely about girls saying they are boys. The kids in my year don’t say they are lesbian or gay, because those words are thought to be an insult.

There is a straight boy going out with a straight girl who says she is trans, so he now has to say that he’s bisexual. It’s often said by my schoolmates that trans girls are ‘better’ girls than ‘other girls’. I find this insulting. But the teachers don’t take any action even if they do hear conversations like this.

Recently, I was watching a news item with friends about the changes to the Gender Recognition Act in Scotland and every time a guest on the programme said, ‘this is a threat to sex-based rights’, my friends were sneering and laughing. It made me feel as though girls have no rights and are not respected in my school.

There is constant talk of transphobia and bigotry and many of the students who say they are trans constantly talk about being ‘victims’, with anyone who isn’t trans being the perpetrator.

Coming out as a lesbian or gay doesn’t have the same effect, but barely any students do, in my experience.

My friend Kelley* was ‘affirmed’ [accepted without question] as a boy in Year 7. She has serious mental health issues and is regularly off school as she self-harms.

Kelley socially transitioned without any teacher challenging her. She has a new name and can now use the boys’ changing rooms. All my friends pretty much believe in ‘gender identity’. Girls and boys are referred to by teachers and students as ‘assigned female at birth’ or ‘assigned male at birth’. This is shortened to AFAB and AMAB.

There is also confusing language such as the word for being attracted to non-binary people, ‘skoliosexual’. I find it ridiculous — but can’t say that.

There is a lot of breast-binding going on, too, but we don’t know who might be on puberty blockers because no one talks about that. One trans-identified girl wants to get a breast binder, but was complaining that her parents would not want her to.

I joined the Equalities Club because I believe in equal rights for all, then found it was impossible to talk about any group, other than trans people, that was discriminated against. There’s a rule against wearing badges in school but some students wear trans flag and pronoun badges and nobody tells them off.

Recently, a group of us were watching Prime Minister’s Questions and when MPs talked about maternity care, using the terms ‘birthing partner’ and ‘non-birthing partner’, I wondered out loud why they didn’t just say ‘mother’.

I was told off by a friend who said that not everyone with a cervix is a woman. I didn’t want to disagree because I knew what would happen — I would be publicly humiliated.

Until now, I’ve just gone along with most of it. But there are some things I can’t leave alone. For example, I really like J. K. Rowling but she was called a ‘TERF’ (Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist) by a friend, who said she was heartbroken to hear that J.K. was ‘anti-trans’.

I asked in what way J.K. was transphobic but this friend couldn’t give me an answer, she just said: ‘I hope all TERFS drop dead.’ I was shocked by her anger.

There have also been violent comments on social media towards ‘transphobes’ with students from the school threatening to strangle them.

That’s why I’m writing this piece anonymously, although I believe I should be able to say these things without fear of attack. I want adults to know what it’s really like in schools like mine now.

*Names have been changed.

==

This confusion, this uncertainty isn't a bug of Queer Theory, it's the explicitly stated intent. When nobody can trust anything about the world, they can't know whether to oppress you or to give you the privileges associated with being an oppressor. No more "systemic" oppression. One of the big problems is that this constantly questioning your own perceptions is a tactic of Malignant Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It's no wonder it attracts narcissists.

https://segm.org/England-ends-gender-affirming-care

The new NHS guidance recognizes social transition as a form of psychosocial intervention and not a neutral act, as it may have significant effects on psychological functioning. The NHS strongly discourages social transition in children, and clarifies that social transition in adolescents should only be pursued in order to alleviate or prevent clinically-significant distress or significant impairment in social functioning, and following an explicit informed consent process.

It's Psych 101 that affirmation solidifies belief, because it wires the amygdala to accept the belief as reality. If you keep telling someone "yes, you are a victim, the world is out to get you," they'll become helpless and incapable. If a therapist actually recommended affirmation therapy for those with anorexia nervosa - "if you think you're overweight, you must be, since you're the expert on you. In fact, you could probably even stand to lose a few more lbs" - we'd know they were incompetent and dangerous.

https://cutdowntree.substack.com/i/54708841/metaphysics-of-marginalization

If those who are born Black or disabled are the chosen, trans people are the converts who have voluntarily accepted Marginalization. They choose to suffer more from their involuntary embodiment. Because of this, they become virtuous. They are saved.

[cartoonmadness2230]

One day in mid summer my foster parents, with who I was living with at the time had called over a medium (someone who works with the supernatural) to look at our house and to speak to deceased loved ones.

I, age 11 at the time had just lost my own mother not even 2 years back was slightly touched by this offer of getting to speak with my mother again, even if it was for one last time. But I however didn't like the fact about talking to a complete stranger about my mother's passing.

I hesitately sat on the front porch and watched as the medium stepped out of her car.

I don't remember much about her except she was drivering a black car that was probably give or take 6 maybe seven years old, it definitely wasn't new on any means. But I do remember she was wear a leather jacket and a wight button up top with blue skinny jeans and brown flats. I don't remember her face but she had gold ball earrings and blond neck length hair. I think it was dyed cause at the top it looked somewhat black or gray.

My foster parents weighted eagerly on the front porch for the medium to come up the 4 stairs up to the porch.

The medium sat down and smiled, she placed her bag on the side of her chair, readjusted her hair and sighed happily before asking names. (I'm not going to state names of the foster parents because of bad relations I had with them, but I'll call them mother and daughter since the were a family that had adopted me. Side note mother is 62 around this time and daughter is 27.) I didn't even get a chance to say my name or even speak before it was said for me.

I looked down slightly sadden by this and I think the medium could tell to but never said anything. (I can't remember what the mediums name is so I'm just going to call her the medium like I have been.) The medium goes on with speaking before asking about the house and us.

We had nothing strange or weird happen with the house so I don't know why my foster parents were so eager to talk about the house to see if anything was in the house with us. Maybe because the house was built in 1910, but so is the house I live in now.

The mother says that we just moved I that year and are making a garden in the back for my deceased mother. The daughter chimes in and says that they have been digging and going to plant flowers in the back right up against the fence.

This medium stops smiling and looks at the mother and daughter in fear, she glups and says.

**"Don't dig any deeper."**

Everyone goes silent and the daughter simply says "what?"

The medium swallow's hard and grabs her purse, putting it on her lap clutching it hard.

"Don't dig any deeper. For your own good I suggest stopping now unless you want to waken something."

All color drians from my face as the medium says this, my foster parents on the other hand just shrug it off and continue asking about their deceased loved ones. I don't even remember what happened next, I was so zoned put to even recall.

All I remember though is slowly sitting up " I'm going to my room." I say in a panicked voice as I hurry to my room. My foster parents don't say anything probably in assumption that I was going to my room because I was upset about talking about my dead mother.

I close the door and slowly look out the window to the ' garden ' we are making for my mother. As I stare at it my heart sinks and I feel this fear I never felt before. If I already didn't feel as scared as I was I would've been okay. But no, my head hurt, my stomach hurt. I didn't know what was going on, so I turned on my Playstation and turned on Spotify. I listened to some of my music to calm me down, but out of the corner of my eye I see my foster parents start to head to the backyard.

**They start digging**

Again my heats drops and I rush to the window, I can't tell them to stop, I would get in trouble for doing so, I woukd get grounded. I just stare at them as they start to dig, **they find something.**

They call my name and I run downstairs, sliding my flip-flops on and running out the back-door and into the yard.

" Hey Bailey check this out." The mother says " Daughter found some really old kids toys hidden in the ground. " I pause and look at the Daughter, in her hands she's holding a hand full of toys. Some rubber ducks, Donald duck toys, rubber bouncy balls and a singular jack.

I chuckle a bit at the singular jack, but I still feel uneasy. They head inside to wash the toys off.

The toys were so dirty, the must of been there for at least 2 to 3 decades.

It's bedtime and I get into bed, the uneqst feeling already had left me by now and I can sleep easy...

I wake up, room completely dark. My nightlight off, I go to sit up to turn it on, but I can't. I can't move, I'm completely pearlized to the bed. I can feel myself trying to move but no luck. I can still move my head slightly from side to side and up and down. I go to speak, nothing.

Nothing comes out, I look around. Nothing but a muffle. The same uneasiness coming back to me as I finally see it...see **her.**

I look right in front of me to see a girl hiding in the corner of my room, we're my shelf is, she reaches the top of my room. Her neck and upper back hitting the ceiling, the row of shape teeth, matted hair, dirty clothes, yellowed bloody teeth, dirty and brused skin, jetting out bones.

I go to scream, nothing. Tears form in my eyes as I look at her. She stares at me with a inhuman frown, her bones, her limbs. It's like her bones couldn't fit inside of her own body, like she was growing to fast.

Eventually I wake up, tears falling from my eyes as I just stare at the corner she was just in for 10 minutes straight before a name pops into my head.

Janedoe

Janedoe was the onky fitting name, since there was nothing on her to tell me who she was and what she wanted, but rest assured that I wasn't getting any sleep that night.

The next few dreams or nightmares I had with her were relatively the same, except she was now smiling. I had around maybe 3 more dreams over her in this house before we moved to a newer house.

I had around 4 dreams with Janedoe in them, the first at this new house playing out the exact same, the second one was the same but Janedoe slowly came closer to me and either bite my neck or head , i cant really tell. But I could tell in this dream when she bite me she had red eyes, the third dream...

I wake up, not in my own home, but my old home, in my old room. It's daylight outside and I look around confused, not knowing what's going on, the room looks nothing like I used to. Completely white walls, and dirty wood planks coming up from there floorboards.

The only things that were in the room were a bed and I mirror. The bed had lavender purple bedsheets on them with a singular pillow with nothing else. I turn to face the mirror, the wall around it cracking from age.

But when I look in the mirror it's not me, it's Janedoe. I look at her in the mirror, bones jetting out in disgusting ways that would make anyone puke, but she can somehow still stand.

This is when I realize I not me, I'm her. This is a memory of Janedoes.

I believe in the supernatural and withcraft and all that fun jazz since I'm an Atheist. And I'm more spiritual then anything, but this got to me since now I was 12.

She looks out the window pulling back the white curtains that have little embroidered lavender flowers on them, the backyard is filled with lavender flowers, two women in all wight dresses and big floppy hats stand in the yard talking to each other. Janedoe seems puzzled by this until banging can be heard, she goes to open the door but it's locked. She jiggles the doorknob but nothing happens.

This is when I get a good look at the door, I'm no longer in Janedoes point of view. The door is covered in lockes from the bottom to the top of the door, there was at least 30 or more different types of locks. Sliding locks, key locks, it didn't matter.

Soon a man can be heard yelling from downstairs, he stroms uo the stairs angerly with a bekt in his hand. He looks like a priest but everything that's black is white and everything that white is black except his shoes being brown. His hair is slicked back with a permanent cow lick.

Soft whimpering can be heard from inside the room, the man grunts in anger before unlocking all the locks.

" YOU STUPID LITTLE BITCH, YOUR GONNA GET IT NOW!" The man yells as he slams the door shut. Whipping noises can be heard along side with wails and screams.

I wake up, not in the middle of the night but around 10 in the morning. I start thinking about this dream I just had. I researche some of the things I saw in the dream and I now know that this dream most likely took place around 1950 to 1952. I also have a feeling, by how the man acts, and how Janedoe acts that she's most likely 12. She's still just a child. And from what I can make out from my dreams of her and the toys that were barred I the backyard of my old house. Janedoe really liked ducks and jacks.

The last dream I had with her played out like any other, but this time she was smiling a genuine smile at me while waving. Again I woke up in daylight and not in the middle of the night like the other dreams. But now I'm 15 and till this day I've never had another dream about Janedoe.

I think her sprite finally found peace, that she protects me in some way. I think that's a good thought to have dint you think?

Sorry this is so long, my coworker and I were talking and I brought up this. She said to write it into the CreepyPasta website/page. I don't know we're that is so im writing it here.

Here's a drawing of Janedoe

If you guys want to make fanart of her go ahead, just credit me and @ me so I can see your lovely creations! 😊

@t4t-hantunia @max-the-silly-guy @horrorartist23

[tagthescullion]

Il Minuetto della Ragazza

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: T

Summary: Bianca di Angelo is alive. Alive and upset, confused, desperate… Camp Half Blood lost her little brother, and there’s nothing she wouldn’t do to bring him home safe.

AO3 link

Ch One - Ch Two - Ch Three - Ch Four - Ch Five - Ch Six - Ch Seven - Ch Eight - Ch Nine - Ch Ten

Chapter 11: Santa Fe

Before opening her eyes Bianca felt grass beneath her hands. Crickets sang around her, and she could hear a couple of whispering voices not too far.

She opened her eyes and was greeted with a clear night sky. The stars shone so brightly, Bianca could see the Milky Way.

By her side, an abandoned looking train station loomed under the moonlight.

“That ain’t right,” she heard a voice murmur.

“There’s no train, your brother’s taking you for a fool.”

“He’s not!” 

It sounded like children. 

Bianca stood unsteadily. She walked quietly towards the source of the voices and found a couple of boys sitting with their backs leaning on a chunk of wooden fence, not two metres away from the rails.

They seemed to be expecting something. A train, they boy had implied. But a midnight train? 

Bianca looked around. She wasn’t even sure it was midnight, but she didn’t reckon they’d be seeing trains until morning. Not in a dilapidated station like this one. 

“It’s always on this day,” said one of the boys. His eyes were bright. “You can hear it, every single year, this same night. Even my ma’s heard it, she tried to pretend otherwise but she was freaked out all right.”

The second boy appeared a lot more cynical of his friend’s tale.

“I never heard nothin’.”

“That’s ‘cause you live so far from the tracks. You don’t hear normal trains, how’d you hear the ghost train?”

The second boy shuddered. “There ain’t no ghost train! Let’s go back home.”

His friend stood his ground. With a stubborn frown he crossed his arms around his legs. 

“I’m not leavin’ until I see that Lincoln train,” he spat. “You’re just a coward.”

The taunt hit where it aimed, the second boy sat back down beside his friend.

“I ain’t no coward.”

Bianca rolled her eyes, she never understood why coward was such a powerful insult. Sometimes cowardice was a lot cleverer than bravery.

She looked back at them, studying their clothes. 

Something wasn’t right. Those weren’t clothes children wore nowadays. Hell, she’d know, she was still trying to get used to denim.

These boys wore suspenders of all things, and they were carrying a dim oil lamp. 

She was dreaming of the past. She wasn't sure how old the scene was, nor did her surroundings really tell her anything useful. 

The boys stayed quiet for a bit, and Bianca, unsure of what to do, sat down not far from them.

A cloud went over the moon, dissipating the light they’d had. Bianca’s surroundings looked even worse for wear than they had. Under the moon’s light, the old station had appeared mystical if run-down, now it looked plain and forgotten. The tracks lost their gleam.

She wondered if it would rain. Could she feel water in a dream?

She shook her head, that wasn’t particularly important.

A ghost train one of the kids had called it. After discovering, or remembering, or accepting –whichever it was– who her father was, Bianca didn’t really want to see any ghosts, in a dream or anywhere, really. 

It wasn’t that ghosts scared her. They were people, that’s all. Her nonna used to call them ‘anime in pena’, or anguished souls. To Bianca, it seemed unfair to be somehow repulsed or afraid of them, souls could be anguished both in life or death. 

Regardless, ghosts were a connection to Hades. And Bianca wasn’t sure how she felt about him. Her memories, or vague images if she was honest, of her father were those of a caring, if not very expressive man. She didn’t want to overlap that with the resentful, dangerous deity her fellow demigods painted him up to be. 

Distracted as she was by her thoughts, she almost missed a low whistle coming from the West. 

One of the boys trembled with excitement, while the other went pale. 

“Did you hear that?”

The pale boy nodded. 

“I told you it was real!”

At first, nothing seemed to happen, but to their left, by the place the tracks were lost in the horizon, a blue mist swirled into existence. 

The breeze turned into a stronger wind, which ruffled the leaves of the trees around them. Fallen leaves, debris and old papers flew around in whirlpools.

A wrinkled sheet of newspaper landed silently next to Bianca’s left foot. She doubted she could pick it up if she tried, but she crouched to read the text better.

It was the front page of the Chicago Daily News, the morning paper by the headlines. April 21st, 1908.

Bianca heard the distant hiss of a steam engine and looked up to see a locomotive break through the blue mist. No, not break through. The mist seemed to come from it, as if the locomotive –train, she saw now– was puffing off blue smoke from below as it went. It mixed with the vapour coming from its chimney.

It wasn’t a chimney, Bianca remembered. She’d once been shown a similar locomotive by her nonno’s valet. But she couldn’t remember the right word for it. 

The train got closer, running fast on the old tracks. The two children had gone completely quiet.

Bianca felt a sort of apprehension as the train drew nearer and nearer. A phantom train. What could it mean? Who’s phantom train was it? 

It was a funeral train, she knew. She didn’t know why she knew it, but she was certain. A morbid way to parade an important figure’s corpse. But she still didn’t know whose corpse.

The locomotive slowed down as it approached Bianca and the boys. Or, she supposed, as it approached the station close to them. 

It wasn’t just the children who’d gone quiet. The world seemed to have shut up as it was enveloped by the train’s ghastly blue mist. The only things Bianca could hear were her breathing, and the train’s rhythmical noise and vapour hisses.

She looked up as the locomotive was passing in front of her. Behind it the tender carried the coal. And behind that the passenger cars began at last. 

Only it wasn’t people tending a casket that Bianca saw. 

The train was full of skeletons. Like the ones chasing them in the quest! Their skins see-through, their bones opaque and contrasting under the clouds.

They were all looking at her. Not at the side of the train, they were focusing on her.

Their teeths clacked as they passed by her, making Bianca shiver. 

‘Come find us,’ they seemed to say. ‘Join us in our journey.’

She wondered if the train would stop in the station, but it never lowered its speed enough. The train cars kept coming and coming, its skeleton crew chit-chattering its snappy cacophony. 

‘Join us, join us, join us…’

Bianca wanted to run. She wanted to be far away from that. She wanted to turn to see if the boys had gone away, or if, like her, they stood frozen watching the train go by, but her muscles wouldn’t answer her.

‘Join us, join us…’

She struggled against her own body, trying to move, to speak, to do anything. 

STOP! She wanted to yell. Stop, please!

Her voice betrayed her, but with a snap, she managed to make her body react. She fell hard to her knees, and covered her head with her arms.

‘JOIN US!’

She closed her eyes tight.

Finally, her voice returned to her.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

-

"Hey!"

Bianca was awoken by somebody shaking her arm. She wiped the corner of her mouth to clear the drop of drool forming there.

"Are we there yet?" She asked, her voice deep with sleep. Her heart still beat fast and loud.

She used a hand to cover the light in her eyes.

Standing above her, and looking like she hadn't slept a wink, was Thalia. She had taken off the silly sunglasses and Bianca could see the dark circles under her eyes. 

"Not in Denver, which was where we were supposed to go," Thalia replied. "We're close to Santa Fe."

Bianca looked out of the window, she could see nothing. Not a blind nothingness, the landscape was perfectly clear, but it was empty. If they were close to any city, it wasn’t a very big one.

She could see mountains far away, but all around her there were low bushes. It felt less dry than Phoenix but it wasn’t much better.

It made her uneasy. She tried to convince herself it was only the memory of the junkyard of the gods, but the goosebumps on the back of her neck wouldn't disappear.

"I don't like this place," Bianca said. "How long until the bus starts again."

Thalia smirked. "One of the back tires was messed up, so it seems we'll be staying a while."

Bianca frowned.

"Yeah, I know," Thalia said, her eyes dark. "It doesn't feel right. Keep an eye out."

Thalia went down the bus aisle, with Bianca in tow. 

Outside, the air smelled like dust. The sky was brightening, the colours were rather pretty, but the picturesque sunrise didn’t make Bianca feel any more comfortable.

The Hunters were gathered several metres away from the rest of the passengers, who weren't many anyway.

"I need you all to be alert," Thalia told them. She wasn't speaking loudly, but her voice carried well amongst them. "A punctured tire can be a coincidence, but so many of us together will attract monsters sooner or later."

"How optimistic," said Greta.

"She's being careful," Phoebe chided her. 

Bianca was with Phoebe and Thalia, something was nearby. 

“I’ll go see if they need help with the tire,” Maddie offered, taking off her jacket and tying it around her waist. 

“Will they let a girl help?” Bianca asked. 

She didn’t mean to be rude, but Maddie didn’t look a day over 20, and while she was open to the idea of the world changing, she was sure men were still unwilling to let women around cars. 

Maddie smirked. “I’ve been dealing with men’s fragile egos since the 19th century, darling. I’ll make them listen.”

Thalia nodded. “All right, take Phoebe with you. If worse comes to worst, Phoebs, you handle the drivers while Maddie does the work, it’ll be faster.”

Phoebe seemed to agree with that, she even looked joyful at the prospect.

Thalia walked a few steps away from the group, and Bianca followed.

“Is she a daughter of Ares?” Bianca asked, pointing subtly at Phoebe. “She reminds me of Clarisse.”

Thalia shook her head. “Nope. Naiad. She had a nasty encounter with my uncle.” She saw Bianca’s scowl. “Oh, no, nasty for my uncle. Who knew the king of the ocean could have his nose broken, huh?”

“Does everybody here but me have awful experiences with men?” Bianca wondered.

Thalia made a face, as if she was debating whether to tell her something or not.

“Some,” she said at last. “Some have been hurt or betrayed by men. Guys can be selfish, disloyal, stupid.” Thalia’s fists tightened with each word. “Others simply come from a different time, back then they were powerless to do something for and by themselves, that led them to join. You can sympathise with that last group, I imagine.” 

Bianca thought Thalia might look at her with pity. Luckily, the older girl appeared curious rather than anything else. She was probably thinking about that night when Percy and Grover had explained that the Lotus Hotel slowed down time.

“Yes,” Bianca said. “I know how they feel.”

She thought of her brother being taught how to assemble a rifle, and her being taught embroidery and how to run a house for her husband. 

Just as she felt a stab of resentment about her unlocked memory, she saw the bus driver get up from the dusty ground, ten or fifteen metres away, and shake his head at Maddie and Phoebe. 

Thalia saw where Bianca’s eyes were focusing on. 

“Seventy years and we’re still dealing with this shit.” She shrugged. “But it’s a lot better, trust me.”

Bianca nodded. She knew. One of their teachers in Westover was an engineer, she taught Math. She hadn’t known why it had surprised her so much back then, but now she imagined what her nonno’s reaction would’ve been like if she told him she wanted to be an engineer.

Thalia was about to say something more but froze with her mouth half-open. Faster than Bianca could ask what was wrong she heard it. 

REEEEEEEEET

Thalia groaned.

“Fucking Hades, not this shit again.”

[slu-tea-ftm]

not about kinks or stuff. don't answer if don't want to) bro, what was it like taking t or getting top surgery early? In my country we can only take hormones and get surgery at 18 years old. I spent my entire adolescence anxious for it. like. give me that testo, government.

I'm always happy to get asks, kinky or not!! This is gonna be long, so strap in lol

And I never mind talking about my journey, because I know it's not really the "norm," even in trans culture.

Honestly, it never really hit me exactly how early I was allowed to get hormones and surgery until a year or so ago when I was thinking back on it. It didn't feel early to me. It felt like everything was timed just right, but looking back, yeah, it was pretty early.

For a while, I just wanted the social change. Cut my hair, change my name, and change my clothes. Boom. Done. I was fine with that for a year or two (I was 11-12 when I came out). I actually cried when I got my hair cut, and my stylist was concerned that she'd upset me. Nope! I was just so happy that she cut my hair! She still cuts my hair to this day and says that I'm a completely different person (/pos).

But then I started feeling like it wasn't enough. I wanted to fit in more with The Guys (side note: I never really did, even after all the hormones and surgery bc these guys knew me since elementary and most were bigoted assholes). So we went to my doctor to try getting hormones. That took, I think, a year and a half or so? Still a pretty short time frame. At one point, I was wearing a binder and a back brace because I have scoliosis, R.I.P. my ability to b r e a t h e.

But we got it! And I was fine with that by itself, too! Until around my sophomore(?) year in high school. I always changed in the nurse's office because it was embarrassing changing with anyone else—boys or girls. So I brought up trying to get top surgery to my mom (shout out to her for being so supportive during my whole transition, gods I love my mom). By junior year, I got my tits yeeted, and I was changing with the boys in P.E. Other than locker rooms, P.E. was co-ed, so there was no "boys on this side, girls on that side" that I can remember.

Obviously, I never fit in with The Guys, and I didn't want to fit in with The Girls (even though many of my friends were girls). But I felt comfortable in my body, at least. It felt more like myself.

I don't regret any of it, even if it all did happen quite young. I got plenty of warnings from doctors and my therapists, and my mom and I had to jump through a ton of hoops to get where we did. I'm really grateful that I got everything when I did, because it probably saved me a lot of depression and anxiety I would've had now.

Even though I got approved for T "early," by medical and societal standards, I basically had to go through puberty twice lol. Because I had already gotten periods and experienced breast growth (not much, thankfully), acne, etc. And then I got testosterone and my voice was cracking a lot while it changed, my fat redistributed through my body, I think I gained more muscle?? hard to tell bc I was never really strong to begin with, my hairline receded quite a bit 🥲, and all those usual things associated with cis guy puberty....including being constantly horny. Gods, that was awful. Wet boxers every day, all the time, it was so awkward.

As for top surgery, that was the only part I was actually scared about. Not because I was anxious about regretting the surgery or the cost of it or anything like that. Just because I have trauma when it comes to people doing things to me while I'm unconscious (or so they thought). That was the only scary part. That, and the IV going in me bc I had this weird fear that if I moved my hand, then the needle would break out of my vein, into my body, and kill me or smth :)

Other than that, the surgery part was easy! Recovery took a while and sucked, especially the rules:

Don't lift more than (I think it was) 5 lbs

Don't raise your arms over your head

No showering for the next few days after surgery

Massage the skin once to twice a day (my hand hurt a lot after this part)

Don't pick at the scabs

I think that's all there was...

Now, I easily pass as a cis guy to most strangers. One of my favorite things to do is see how people react when they find out I'm trans lol. Because they never expect it! And then I show them a picture of me before transitioning, and they're like, "😲 That's you?!"

"Yep :)"

I know most people are afraid of being outed as trans, but for me I'm just like, "Look at how far I've come!!" It's not really a touchy subject for me. As long as someone is genuinely curious and not asking super invasive questions <3