#finally exiting my making content paralysis

[californiaboytoybilly]

-> what sweet sin to get lost with you || springflower / buckleway roadtrip AU

[rapifessor]

Pokéchronology, Volume I: Yellow

Day 11

I made a good bit of progress today, and I'm starting to get a pretty good idea of what's ahead and what's left before I've completed my journey through Pokémon Yellow. There are only two gyms remaining, and my team is more or less finalized, unless I encounter a 'mon that I'd really like to use before it's time to challenge the Elite Four and the champion.

I may be able to finish up the game within the next week, if I'm able to get in enough play time. Which means that the start of Pokéchronology, Volume II isn't too far off. It feels like I've been playing Yellow for a long time, but the next game has much more content, so it'll probably feel like a mere moment in time in comparison.

Enter those who do not fear spoilers for Pokémon Yellow...

Seafoam Caverns

First things first, I need to make sure I'm stocked up. I buy 20 Ultra Balls in Fuchsia City, a bunch of Revives in case a Krabby gets a cheeky OHKO on one of my Pokémon, and a few Hyper Potions for later. Then I head to Celadon City to make use of the vending machines there. While annoying to acquire en masse, Lemonades are a very cost-efficient healing item that also don't go to waste like Hyper Potions do. They cost only 350 Pokédollars and heal 80 HP, which is a pretty big improvement over Super Potions. Half the price and 60% more healing. I get 20 of those and also 10 Fresh Waters, which don't heal as much but will come in handy when I want to heal but using a Lemonade would be a waste.

All set, I return to the Seafoam Islands, this time with Ominous in the team. There's a big puzzle in the caverns below that's simple in concept but somewhat complex in execution. You have to use Strength to move boulders from the upper levels to the lower levels so that eventually you can slow the water flow in the lowest level and use Surf to get to the exit. While here I catch a Dewgong which I name Baja Blast. But there's another attraction here, which is another of the legendary birds, Articuno.

Initially I challenged them with BIG RAT. That didn't end well. Thunderbolt did a decent amount of damage, but BIG RAT fell to a single Ice Beam. To be fair, Articuno has a wicked high Special stat, while BIG RAT doesn't, and Ice Beam has fucking 95 Base Power. It was clear that going for the most effective attack in this instance wasn't going to work out in my favor. So instead of going all-in on offense, I did so on defense. Out came Holy.

Articuno is much more manageable when you can tank their Ice Beam. Still, I had to use a few Lemonades to keep Holy in the fight while trying to lower Articuno's HP and Paralyze it with Body Slam. It didn't work out, because I had dealt too much damage before using Body Slam, so I had to reset.

I managed to get Articuno paralyzed early on the second attempt. They still managed to attack plenty of times, but with the Paralysis in effect and Articuno at critical health, I then had an opportunity to go for the catch. I miss several Ultra Balls in doing so, but one of them finally lands and catches the bird. Second legendary Pokémon acquired.

Cinnabar Island

I finally make it to Cinnabar, where there are a couple of things I do before challenging the gym. First, I switch Ominous to the front. They were looking pretty underleveled, so I wanted to give them a chance to level up before the gym, as they were naturally my strongest option against the Fire type gym.

Next, I finally get to regenerate the fossils I got earlier in the game. I get Omanyte who becomes Manyoats and Aerodactyl who I just call Aeros. That's all for the Cinnabar Lab, onto the Pokémon Mansion.

Pokémon Mansion

This is a pretty interesting dungeon. It's got another puzzle in it, this time it's utilizing switches throughout the mansion to open and close two sets of doors. When one opens, the other closes. There are some pretty good items in here, such as the TMs for Blizzard and Solar Beam, and lots of decently strong Pokémon. Well, sort of. Most of them are still capable of being knocked out in one attack by my team, but occasionally you run into a level 43 Raticate that knows Super Fang, and that hurts like a bitch. Tanks Double-Kick like a champ, too, so even Prinzessin can have a rough time against them. Really glad I bought all those Lemonades.

During my battles in the mansion, I caught a Growlithe that I simply named Doggo and a Raticate that I called Raticatcat. There are also a few trainer battles in here for some reason. I'm not complaining, as the Burglars really give up the cash when you beat them. Over 3,000 Pokédollars per battle. I was worried I'd be feeling that hole in my wallet from all the Ultra Balls and Revives I bought.

At the end of the dungeon is the Secret Key, which is needed to open the Cinnabar Gym. After grabbing that, I Escape Rope out and get ready to challenge Blaine.

Cinnabar Gym

So this gym is basically a True or False quiz where you can go straight to Blaine if you get all the questions right, and if you get one wrong you have to fight a trainer to proceed. I fought them all anyway just for the EXP, even though I only got one question wrong: the first one. It asks you whether or not Caterpie evolves into Butterfree, and I said no because it evolves into Metapod, silly. You're skipping the middle evolution there. Obviously they were referring to Caterpie's final evolution, which was a little unclear, but no matter.

Finally, Blaine. As you'd expect, his Pokémon are all Fire type, and I've been fattening up Ominous the whole time I've been in his gym, so I've got a level 40 Gyarados locked and loaded. None of his Pokémon outright fall to a single Bubble Beam, but that's fine since there's very little they can do to Ominous in return, even while I'm at a significant level disadvantage. His final Pokémon, Arcanine, is level 54, but I only needed to heal up Ominous a couple times to take out his... three Pokémon. One of the last three gyms and Blaine only has three Pokémon. Okay, this gym was actually free. Deadass. I literally soloed it with one Water type that wasn't even that high level or had that high of a Special stat.

Well, anyway, I've got the TM for Fire Blast now, and I'm one step closer to the Elite Four. I'm still worried about being underleveled, though, ever since my last battle with Gary. I've got decent counters to all of his Pokémon... that I've seen so far, at least. But I still remember how dangerous his Sandslash was. I imagine he'll have a full team during the final battle, and who know what he's going to have. For all I know his Cloyster who I've been preparing for a rematch against isn't even going to be there.

At this point I should be prepared for Sabrina's gym, at least. Psychic types are still pretty spooky, especially when they have to be fought back to back. But I have a plan. I'm thinking if I can beef up Mycoboss with a bunch of X Specials, I can tear Sabrina's team apart. All I have to do is survive the attacks of her first Pokémon long enough to max out Mycoboss' stats and then Leech Life my way to victory.

[actress4him]

Bonus Whumptober Content

I had no plans originally of continuing the story from Whumptober Day 28. As far as I was concerned, it ended badly and that was that.

But you can all thank @outtacommission , because I was bribed into continuing it!

If you need a refresher on the original chapter, click the link above or read it on AO3.

This is the start of the new content, which ended up being super long, so I broke it up into three short chapters. I’m really excited and nervous to share this. Writing sequels for oneshots that weren’t originally supposed to be continued is...tough. This is the second time I’ve done it, and I always feel like the continuation isn’t as good as the original. But I’m pretty happy with how this turned out, so I hope that you guys enjoy it, too!

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Warnings: (big spoilers!) needles, implied CPR, broken bones, blood, brain damage, paralysis, amputation, panic attacks

.

“Quiznak. Oh, holy quiznak, Keith?”

.

“He’s not breathing. I’ve got no pulse.”

.

“Hold him steady, I’m cutting the back of this chair off so we can get to the shrapnel.”

.

“Come on, Keith. Breathe. Breathe!”

.

“Look, I found this in Red’s first aid kit. I’m a universal donor.”

“Get it hooked up, he needs everything we can give him.”

.

“Please, Keith. Please.”

.

“Shiro, his ribs…”

“I know. They’ll heal.”

.

“Wait! Look!”

“Oh my g-...okay. Okay. Hurry, let’s get him to the Black Lion. I’ll need you to ride with him so you can keep up the transfusion.”

“Right behind you.”

.

.

Consciousness came in spurts. The first time, he surfaced from the never-ending blackness to nothing but cold and pain, and the feeling that his insides were twisted into a big knot and trying their best to exit his body. As he retched, body automatically jerking to try to sit up or roll over and sending even more pain shooting through him, frantic voices surrounded him.

“...reaction...blood…!”

“But...O neg...shouldn’t…”

Somebody scooped him up like a baby and ran, jarring his screaming abdomen with every step, before depositing him onto a semi-soft surface.

“...Galra…”

“...sample...synthesize more…”

The words meant nothing to him. All he knew was pain and nausea, and a blur of lights and movement above him.

Just before he passed out again, there was a sharp prick in his forearm that momentarily drew his attention away from the rest of the pain. He couldn’t find the energy to protest it.

.

.

The second time, voices were the first to filter in, hushed tones that sounded as if they were speaking a foreign language. His eyes fluttered open, but the bright lights overhead made him wince and squeeze them back shut. 

“You’re okay,” someone soothed, the only words he could actually pick out from among the rest. “You’ll be just fine. Go back to sleep, now.”

There was a prick on the back of his hand, and he whimpered involuntarily. But a moment later the nothingness was taking back over, and he gladly slipped underneath.

.

.

The next time he woke, he had no recollection of the first two times, or of anything that happened before, but for some reason he was surprised to be waking up. Somehow, he didn’t think he was going to do so. But here he was, awake. Only, he had no idea where here was.

“Keith? Bud? You with us?”

He knew that voice. Turning his head toward it, he willed his eyes to open, and after a moment, they obeyed. A blur of yellow and brown met him. 

“Hey, bud! It’s good to see those eyes open. Can you hear me?”

Keith blinked, trying to bring the person into focus. Once their features had solidified enough that he could make out dark brown eyes and a smile, he licked his chapped lips and attempted to speak. 

“Hunk.” For some reason the N dragged on for much longer than he had intended, but it was a word, regardless.

“Yeah! That’s me! Oh my gosh, you have no idea how happy I am that you’re awake and okay.”

How long had he been asleep? It must have been a while for Hunk to be worried. And he was pretty sure he felt okay, though maybe a bit numb overall. Maybe he really had been asleep for a long time. It kinda felt like he was waking up after one of those naps you take while you’re sick and your fever breaks in the middle of it.

He licked his lips again, to no avail. “‘hirsty.”

“Yep, yep, I’m sure you are.” Hunk turned and snatched something up off a nearby table, bringing it toward Keith’s face. “Here ya go. Small sips.”

The water was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted in his life. He wanted to gulp it all down, ignoring what he had been told, but Hunk pulled it away after only a couple of seconds. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go get Shiro and Fallenta and let them know you’re awake, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Keith struggled to process that sentence. He didn’t think he recognized one of those names, and he still couldn’t figure out why him being awake was such a big deal. Unless...he had gotten hurt in one of their fights. But then why wouldn’t he be waking up from the pod, not in whatever bed this was?

“Wha...happened?” His words continued to come out strangely, despite his best efforts. Maybe he had been sleeping on his face, because it was one of those numb parts of him that didn’t seem to want to move properly.

Hunk froze at the doorway, turning slowly to face him. “Um...what do you remember?”

It was a good question. Wrinkling his brow, he searched his still half-dazed mind, trying and failing to grasp at the snippets of memories that danced by. It didn’t take long for his head to start hurting, and he shut his eyes, giving up for the moment. “Don’t know. A fight?” He had a vague recollection of being in Red recently. “In the Lions?”

“Um, yeah, well, that’s...one thing that happened.” Hunk seemed nervous, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m gonna go, um, get the others, and they can tell you everything, ‘kay?” Without giving Keith a chance to protest, he disappeared through the door.

Keith sighed, and tested out various parts of his body. Other than most of his right side being curiously numb, and an almost unnoticeable ache in a couple more places, everything seemed to be working properly. He had been in Red right before waking up there...right? Maybe she could tell him what was going on.

Only when he closed his eyes and reached for their connection, he came up empty. There was nothing there. No hum, no purr, nothing. His heart leapt into his throat. Red! Red, where are you? What if something had happened to her? What if she was gone? What if he had done something to make her reject him, and he wasn’t even a paladin anymore, what if that’s what Hunk didn’t want to tell him? If he wasn’t a paladin anymore, then he’d...he’d be nothing. Useless. There would be absolutely no reason for him to be in the Castle anymore, in space at all. The other paladins would take him back to Earth and dump him off, and he’d have no one and nothing yet again.

The door opened, and Keith shot upright, ignoring the way it made his head swim and that ache in his ribs twinge. “I can’t feel Red! I can’t...what happened? Where’s Red?”

“Hey! Hey, shh, Keith, it’s okay!” Shiro was across the room in an instant, sitting down on the side of the bed and grasping Keith’s shoulders in both his hands. “I need you to calm down for me, okay? I’ll explain, but I need you to take deep breaths.”

Drawing in one such breath to appease the man, Keith glanced around the room, taking in Hunk’s worried expression and the alien stranger that stood on the other side of his bed. “Somebody please just tell me what's going on.” The words were still slurred, which was getting more frustrating by the second. “Why’m I here?”

He hated the look that Shiro shot up at the alien before catching his eyes again. They were treating him like a fragile child. Even when he was a child, he had gotten more bad news in his few years than most adults did in their whole lives, so it wasn’t like he didn’t always expect more. 

“You were in an accident,” Shiro finally explained, still speaking far too slowly and softly. “You and Red got hit with a zaiforge cannon and crashed into a nearby planet. Do you remember?”

Keith already knew he didn’t, so he wasn’t going to waste time searching his memory when he still wanted answers. “Where’s Red? Is she okay?”

Offering a sympathetic smile, Shiro squeezed his shoulder with his flesh hand. “She’s in rough shape. All her systems are shut down right now. But Pidge and Coran and Hunk have been working on her, and they’re optimistic that everything can be fixed. With time.”

Letting all his breath out with a whoosh, Keith slumped over forward. It was simultaneous good news and bad news. Red hadn’t rejected him, or at least he didn’t think so. But he hated that she was so badly hurt. “I wanna see her.”

Shiro’s smile twitched up a little higher. “I know. But first, we need to check on you. You’ve been unconscious for quite a while. Everything seems to have healed up alright, but there were some things that couldn’t be tested while you were out.”

As if this was their cue, the alien - an objectively pretty, willowy creature with mauve fur, four long, thin arms, and a myriad of long, thin fingers on each hand - stepped forward. Their voice was light and feminine, and had a lilting accent that reminded him of Lance when he fell into his native tongue.

“I am going to give you some simple instructions to follow, okay?”

Keith frowned. “Who ‘re you?”

“Oh, yes, right.” Shiro indicated the newcomer with one hand. “This is Fallenta. She’s a Tellimite. They’re one of the most medically advanced species in the universe. We wanted to make sure you had the best care possible, so Allura brought us to Tellima as soon as we had you in the pod. Fallenta has been...indispensable.”

His explanation only caused Keith more confusion. If he had been in a pod, then why did he need a doctor? And again, why was he in some bed now? 

Seeming to sense his questions, Fallenta smiled and settled down opposite Shiro. “There were some...complications from your injuries. Coran and Shiro made the right call by placing you into a healing pod right away, knowing that it was the only way to save your life, but that meant that your bones that were broken could not be reset before healing. One of my jobs was to correct this once your abdomen wound was no longer life threatening.”

“Yes, you actually had two different stints in the pod,” Shiro nodded. His brow furrowed. “Well, three, if you count the time that your body rejected the blood Pidge had given you and started trying to shut down. Thankfully, Coran had those samples he took from all of us at the beginning, and was able to synthesize some more of yours.”

Keith couldn’t stand the troubled expression on Shiro’s face, especially since he had been the one to put it there. Lifting his left arm, he gently squeezed his brother’s elbow. “I’m okay now.”

Shiro smiled, but there was a sheen to his eyes. “You have no idea how relieved I am about that.”

“Your cognition seems to be just fine,” Fallenta said, “and losing memory of the traumatic event is not uncommon. There are a few other things I need to check, though.”

She spent the next few minutes shining a flashlight into his eyes, asking him some questions about things that happened prior to the accident, getting him to remember a short list of objects, and observing his reactions to various movements and sounds. All of it led Keith to believe that it was his brain being tested, and it made him nervous. No one would tell him anything else, though, simply repeating that they would explain everything shortly.

It seemed to be going well, though, and everyone was smiling and calm, so he tried not to let it get to him. Until Fallenta moved on to testing sensations. She started on his left arm, lightly touching it with her finger, then poking her claw into his skin, then digging in her knuckle. Everything felt like it should.

“Alright, the right arm, now.” She smiled at him and held his gaze, but after a moment of nothing further happening, her smile faded into a neutral expression. Another moment, and he was wondering why she hadn’t done the test yet. 

“Do you feel any of this, Keith?”

“What?” He looked down, and her finger was on his forearm. As he watched, she moved it up and down his arm, tapping lightly. He swallowed hard. “It's...it's been really numb e’er since I woke up. My face an’ leg, too.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shiro stiffen. “What does that mean?”

Fallenta smiled again, and as nice of a smile as it was, he was beginning to hate it. “Let’s complete the tests, and I will be able to tell you more. Can you feel this?” 

This time he watched as she pricked him with her claw, and to his relief, there was a faint jolt of pain. “A little. It's muted, though.”

“That’s good. And this?” She used her knuckle that time, and again, the pressure was faint.

“Same. What's wrong with my arm?” he demanded, glaring first at her, then Shiro. “Why can’t I talk right?”

“Have patience -”

“No!” Keith yanked his arm away from her with far more effort than should have been required. “I'm out of patience! Tell me what's wrong!”

Shiro put a hand on Fallenta’s shoulder, nodded at her, then reached forward and took Keith’s hand. “When we found you…” He paused, his jaw clenching and eyes flicking away for a split second before he seemed to steel himself to continue. “Your heart had stopped. It’s impossible to say how long you had been like that. I was able to get it started again, but it took a few minutes. So your brain…” Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out in a sigh. “It was without oxygen for several minutes, at the least. Brain damage has been a concern from the very start. When I said you have no idea how relieved I am that you’re okay...it was possible that you wouldn’t ever wake up. Or if you did, that you wouldn’t be able to function at all.” An errant tear slipped out, and he dashed it away with his metal hand. “But you’re here. You’re awake, and you can speak and think and...and it’s gonna be okay. I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

Brain damage? The words hit him like a blow to the chest. That meant his arm...his face...they weren’t just numb, they were...they were…

He ripped his hand from Shiro’s grip. “How can you say it's gonna be okay? Do you hear me? I soun’ stupid! An’ my arm...how’m I supposed to fight an’ fly if I can barely move my arm?”

“But you still have some movement and sensation,” Fallenta broke in. “That is very good news. It means that, with physical therapy, you can regain even more use. You can even have speech therapy to help you build up your facial muscles.”

“Speech therapy?” He almost laughed at that. “We’re in the middle of a war, we don’ have time for speech therapy!”

Shiro’s hand landed on his leg. “We’ll make it work, Keith.”

“No. No.” He shook his head harshly. “Get off. Get off me, I need...” Flailing his one good hand toward Shiro and Fallenta, he gritted his teeth against the tears that wanted to fall. The weight on either side of the bed moved as the two of them stood. “I need some air. I need...” Red, that’s what he needed. He reached for the corner of the blanket that covered his legs. “I’m gonna -”

“Keith, wait!”

Shiro and Hunk both lunged, but it was too late. He had already flipped the blanket to the side, revealing what lay underneath.

Or rather, what didn’t lay underneath.

He was gonna be sick.

His leg. It was…it was missing from the knee down.

Keith screamed.

The next minutes or hours were a blur of tears and pain in his chest and breaths that wouldn’t come. He vaguely recalled Shiro being in front of him, his lips moving but no sound coming out. He vaguely recalled thrashing and slamming his head into the wall behind him. 

After that, though, the nothingness took back over.

Next

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 12 - A Little Death

Masterlist; Chapter 11

Summary: You have to help Neil get back onto his feet after the tragic news. The lack of control and overwhelming grief lead to a few revelations...

Warnings: This is quite angsty still despite mentions of comfort; excessive drinking; self-harm (only implied); swearing

Author’s Notes: Okay so the length of this is beyond me and I’m sorry. This takes place just before Neil’s departure to Mumbai, film-wise. I really hope you’ll enjoy and please let me know what you think!

P.S. The referenced song is ‘A Little Death’ by The Neighbourhood 

You did not check how long you were sat like that on the floor, cradling Neil and letting him cry and shake as though those were the only things he was capable of. Later you realised it was probably close to two hours as by the time you got up, it was nearly evening. But for those two hours, you just let him take his time. He did not speak, and you only occasionally whispered words of reassurance into his ear. You kept on drawing soothing circles into the skin of his back. After the first half-hour, you found a much-needed package of tissues and placed them in his lap. Despite his silence, you knew that your presence meant everything. And so you stayed, ignoring the rumbling in your stomach and tiredness. For the most part, you also ignored your own tears, fully aware that this was not about you, nor it should be.

Neil’s heart-wrenching sobs stopped after those two hours and were replaced with small gasps as though he was struggling for air. That is when you knew that the breakdown was past its culmination point. Slowly, you shifted so that you could look at him and gently tipped his chin. His eyes were puffy and red. The heart-breaking look he gave you was enough to nearly tip you off the edge. But you had to be strong. So you just took a deep breath and broke the silence:

“Don’t say you’re sorry for this because that’s the least I could have done for you” he nodded hesitantly upon seeing your determined gaze “I’m here for you, and I won’t make you talk about anything but sometimes it helps” you kissed him on the forehead.

When you met his gaze afterwards, you were struck by the admiration you saw there. He smiled at you slightly as though trying to convey something difficult to be expressed otherwise. You smiled back and took his hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. After another beat, you got up and filled a glass of water for him. You knew well enough how something so simple is needed after crying for so long. You watched as he emptied the whole glass, placed it on the side, and took a deep breath. Then he spoke for the first time in two hours.

“I… I know that this isn’t what you’re used to from me” he shrugged helplessly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still someone I care about deeply” for a second you wondered why you felt like you wanted to say more.

But now was definitely not the time. So, instead, you added:

“Tell me what happened? If you’re ready, of course” you took his hand back and smiled when he entwined your fingers on reflex.

“When we arrived, he…” Neil swallowed hard “TP called us to his office and started explaining the next steps in the operation. He mentioned the bloody Mumbai and how I’m needed there tomorrow” he clenched his jaw, and you felt the tension rise.

You placed your free hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Then you let your hand linger on the side of his neck. He sighed at your touch before resuming the story:

“Then he asked Ives to leave, and we talked a bit about everything… It was like the old days, you know” his brow furrowed “He mentioned how I’m probably his greatest friend in the whole world… How I helped him make Tenet into what it is now and how that wouldn’t be possible without my contribution” he exhaled shakily “We even talked about you” he glanced up and met your surprised look “Just about how it was seemingly fate that brought us together and how you fit in so well here, just taking everything in your stride” you smiled at the words shyly.

Even though it hurt you to know that he was not allowed the truth about your hiring. But maybe that was for the better, you mused.

“We talked like that for over an hour before he started acting strange… The things he said…” he seemed to gather words “It didn’t make much sense, but now I think I should’ve realised that he was…” he shuddered slightly “That it was supposed to be a goodbye” you saw the tears in his eyes again and shifted so that he could rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“Don’t blame yourself for not predicting what will happen. There’s no point in that” you leaned against the foot of the bed behind to be more comfortable.

“Maybe… But I felt something was wrong, so an hour after I left his quarters, I went back in” you tightened the hold on his hand, feeling the moment approach “The door was unlocked and he… he was just sat there” Neil brought his head up to look at you with teary eyes “I thought that he was fine but then… there was no pulse, and he wasn’t breathing” you felt him become breathless and gently urged him to slow down.

When he stopped hyperventilating, you let him lean on your shoulder again.

“He died alone… and I couldn’t do anything about it” you were not sure if you preferred the dejected tone or the former sobs “I was supposed to be his best friend, his partner”

“I think that he didn’t want to hurt you even more by making you watch it happen” you suggested, trying to make sense of the situation.

After the earlier text and what Neil told you begun to understand that TP intended to do it. To end his life. You just had to find a reason why.

“But I don’t understand why he did it” Neil’s voice broke through your contemplation “There was no reason to… He said himself that the plan is going well” you could hear anger creeping into his voice.

“I know… But maybe there was a reason…” you trailed off.

Neil watched you sharply, and you felt like if you said something wrong, you could risk losing him again. You had to tread softly.

“You once said that he never did things without reasons” you stumbled over the tense and frowned “And that’s the same feeling I got when I talked with him… Maybe he had to do that to avoid clashing with his former self in any way” you glanced at Neil to gauge his expression.

He was staring ahead into space with a serious look in his eyes, considering what you said.

“Is like… they mentioned during training that it would be bad if we ever came in contact with our other selves, inverted and so on” you kept on rambling, hoping it was helping somehow “So maybe he was afraid that his existence now would coincide with his younger self out there”

“There must have been better ways of dealing with that” you could tell that he was angry.

At himself. At TP. At the universe. And there was nothing you could do.

“Maybe that was all that he could think of”

You watched helplessly as he turned away from you, suddenly overcome with the emotions. You urged yourself to calm down. Maybe now was a good moment to mention the text…?

“I… I got a text message from him actually… as I was getting here in the cab” you took out your phone and gingerly offered it to him.

Neil took it without question and read over the recent message. Then you saw his eyes dart to other text conversations. But you did not mind. There was nothing to hide. He handed you back the phone without a further word. Then he got up and wandered over to one of the side cabinets.

Now that was concerning.

“Neil?” you scrambled after him and watched in horror as he hastily threw the cabinet contents onto the floor.

Finally, he found a whisky bottle hidden in the back and took a triumphant swing out of it. That sight made you shake off any paralysis you fell into. You crossed the room and snatched the bottle from him. The dark look he gave you was somewhat terrifying. He took a step closer as you took one back. Then he met your gaze challengingly as though doubting your ability to deny him anything. But this time, you were not going to give in. You shook your head and extended the gap.

“It helps with the pain” Neil shrugged helplessly.

“I know, but I think you’ve had enough for today” you gestured towards the empty bottles on the floor.

Thinking fast, you decided to act. You took out your phone and summoned Ives, asking him to come by Neil’s room in a moment. He responded instantly, evidently waiting on the news. Once that was dealt with, you went on to pick up the reminders of Neil’s state. When he saw you do that, you heard him speak:

“If you’re going to take away all the alcohol, then at least leave me the empty bottles” you turned to see an unfamiliar cynical smile “The glass might come handy” the emptiness in his eyes made the delivery worse.

You could only stare, processing the words. Suddenly everything felt too overwhelming.

“Neil…”

You stared at him pleadingly, hoping that maybe the look of panic in your eyes will help him realise what he said. You did not dare breathe until he somehow denied your worst anxieties about the situation. You watched as his face fell, then he covered it with his hands and breathed out a long exhale.

“Fuck. I’m sorry…” he stared at the floor “I didn’t mean it” he looked up at you remorsefully “I don’t know why I said that…”

“It’s okay. Just don’t ever scare me like that again” you gave him a weary smile.

Before you could say anything more, a knock on the door interrupted you. At Neil’s quizzical stare, you answered:

“Ives. I’ve asked him to come” you moved to the door, clutching all the bottles in your arms “Give me a second. And please don’t do anything stupid” you gave him a final warning look before you exited into the corridor.

Ives waited there with a worried expression on his face that seemed fixed at this point.

“Is he alright?” he asked, glancing at the door you closed.

You shuddered, thinking about the situation you just dealt with. But he need not know all that.

“He will be. For now, though…” you placed all the bottles of alcohol in his arms “Take these please and maybe get us a little something to eat from the kitchen… and tea” you tried to gather your thoughts.

“Okay” he nodded “If you need anything else, let me know”

“Thanks” you sighed, feeling the tiredness slowly descent upon your whole body.

But there was no time for that. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with him tonight” for once, Ives did not tease you about it, and you were grateful.

“His plane is at 3 pm tomorrow. Do you think that’s manageable?” he looked sceptical.

“It has to be” you smiled as Ives squeezed your shoulder reassuringly “I better go back to him. Just leave the food outside and knock on the door, please. Think it’s best if he doesn’t see anyone else tonight”

“Of course”

Without further word, you entered the room again and locked the door behind you. Neil was sat on the bed, anxiously picking at the skin around his fingernails. His hair was falling in his eyes, and he was staring at his lap, looking incredibly lost. It hurt you to see him like this. Ignoring the growing ache in your chest, you approached him slowly.

“I asked Ives to get us some food and tea because I think we both could do with that” you attempted a smile when he looked up “But before it arrives, you could shower and get changed… that could help a little”

You stood near enough to reach out and brush your fingers over his cheek tenderly. He seemed to consider your words for a moment before he leaned into your palm.

“Okay, I’ll try” you saw him hesitate before adding, “Thank you for putting up with this”

“Of course, that’s what friends are for” for some reason, the word felt wrong. And he noticed that too as you saw a small frown appear before he smiled at you and left for the bathroom.

When you heard him put the shower on, you started cleaning the room. You put away the pages that landed on the floor and made the bed. While you were smoothing the covers, your brain came up with a rather intrusive thought about how there you were, alone with Neil in his room. Again. And how that really did not fit in with the friendship story you desperately clung to. Because it was rather obvious that you would end up sharing the bed again. That was not something friends did this frequently. You did your best to shut that voice, but you could not deny the facts. So you just sighed and waited patiently for Neil to remerge.

Food arrived before he showed up, so you just set the coffee table. Once you were done, you heard the bathroom door creak. You turned to look at him and were taken aback by the casualness of his get-up. For the first time since you have met, he was not wearing suit trousers and a shirt, and instead had loose joggers and a t-shirt on. Despite the reality of the situation you found yourself in, you could not help but stare. He caught your look with a rather sheepish expression that you did not expect.

Interesting… But there was no time to dwell on it, so you just invited him to the table and encouraged him to have something from the selection Ives got you. Sometimes you would anxiously glance at him to see whether his mood has not changed for worse again. But he seemed fine; quiet and sombre but there with you, physically and mentally. And that was what mattered for the moment. So after you ate, you suggested settling in bed to rest. Neil agreed to that without any objections, giving you hope that maybe he was past his worst point.

After the initial awkwardness of the situation wore off, and you both relaxed onto the pillows, you asked:

“Should we put the tv on? Just have some music on or something…” you searched his eyes, trying not to get too conscious of the moment.

While this was certainly not the first time for you to casually share a bed, this time it somehow felt different. But you blamed that on the rollercoaster of emotions you both went through in the recent days.

“Yeah sure” Neil nodded and sent you a small smile.

This silent version of him was strange to get used to. It felt like he was holding back from you, and you were not sure whether you liked that. But there was nothing you could do apart from giving him unlimited space and time for expression should he need it. So, to provide a distraction, you put on the tv and quickly found a suitable music channel that was not blasting annoying pop songs. Silence fell on you again, as you let the music help you relax. You were not even paying attention to the exact songs played.

‘Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human’

That is until you felt Neil shift, and you glanced in his direction only to meet his intense stare. The blue eyes were fixed on you with a hazy tint on the pupils. Before you could ask him anything, he moved closer. You were struck by the look of intoxication on his face. Somehow you knew that it was not due to alcohol. You felt slightly paralysed by the multitude of feelings that came then. Neil ended his scrutiny of your face to ask:

“Can I kiss you?” his voice was huskier than usual.

‘Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there’

“Neil...” his name usually came quite handy in those speechless moments.

There were millions of reasons why you should not let him, but the look on his face and what he said next started breaking down the resolve.

“I know” he was looking at you with something close to pleading “I know this won’t fix anything, but if for at least a few seconds I can forget about this mess... then please give me that”

‘She sought death on a queen-sized bed And he had said, "Darling, your looks can kill, So now you're dead.’

He was close now. So close that all you had to do was lean in and kiss him softly. He sighed at the contact, and you brushed away the damp hair from his eyes. Then he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer with his hands on your waist. You were too lost in the moment to stop him when he urged you to lie down on the covers. Feeling your heart pound in your chest, you continued the kiss as he hovered over your body. His hands wandered until you felt him slide them underneath the fabric of your shirt. The warm, sudden touch on your bare skin acted as a warning. You gasped and broke the kiss, but not before he managed to bite on your lower lip, drawing blood. The desperate whine he let out made you open your eyes in a flash. The darkness of his eyes made you realise how close it got to the point of no return. That was enough to help you shake off the daze.

“Please, not like this” you pushed him away gently.

Your cheeks were burning as you came to realise what nearly happened. But once you met Neil’s gaze again, you could tell that he was still not quite aware of the reality. The passionate look in his eyes was replaced with something akin to begging.

“I just want to get lost in you” he murmured, still keeping his hands on the bare skin of your waist.

He ran his fingers along your sides, and you shivered. Inhaling slowly, you tried to calm down. Normally his words would have made you throw caution to the wind. But something like that could be disastrous right now.

“I don’t want it to happen like that” you pushed him off you completely and sat up, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

“But you want it?” the hopeful tone made your insides flutter with thousands of anxious butterflies.

Fuck… Of course, he wouldn’t let it go easily.

“Ask me again when we’re both better” you hoped that you sounded surer than you felt.

You touched the split lip and wiped away the blood droplet with your thumb. That moment must have awakened something in Neil, as suddenly you heard him inhale sharply before he blurted:

“God, I’m so sorry” you looked up to see him staring at you in terror “I don’t know what overcame me… It’s not that I didn’t want to…” he was clearly struggling with whatever he wanted to say.

“It’s okay. I won’t hold you accountable for whatever happened… or almost happened” you gave him your most convincing smile despite feeling more confused than ever.

“But I… I want you to know I didn’t do that only because I’ve lost control” that was enough for you.

“Neil, it’s fine” you interrupted him “You don’t have to explain. It doesn’t matter” you forced another smile onto your face, praying he will drop the topic.

You could not even explain why it hurt so much. Maybe because you worried it was just him losing control? And that if there was someone else with him in your place, it would have happened anyway? But it felt selfish to have those thoughts after everything that happened, so you just tried to rake your brain for some other distraction. Somehow, this moment felt right to breach a topic that has been on your mind for the past few hours. Slowly, you turned to face Neil, who was evidently still pondering the situation while staring at the tv screen unseeingly. 

“Neil…” he turned to you the instant you said his name “Before I came here, Ives told me about Alex…”

The moment you mentioned the name, you could see a plethora of emotions flash in Neil’s eyes. There was shock, sadness, and worry, among others. He visibly tensed and tried to school his features before responding.

“I- I would’ve told you” he was desperately searching for the right words “There just wasn’t a good moment, and I didn’t know if you…”

“No, no. Stop right there” you interrupted him, worried by the rambling “I didn’t mention that because I want an explanation or because it hurt me in any way” you met his gaze steadily “I only wanted you to know that I’ve been told. And that if you ever wanted to talk about it, I’m here” you tried your best to convey the support and love (?) into the long look you gave him.

“But… is-is this okay? Are you okay with that?” the doubt and genuine worry in his eyes made your heart clench painfully.

You wanted to hurt whoever made him question things like that.

“Of course it’s okay. You loved and lost him, and that’s the only thing I care about” tentatively, you reached out to take his hand again “It’s a vital part of your story, and I want to know you better” you smiled, seeing him relax slightly.

“Thank you… I’ll tell you one day, I promise” he brushed his thumb along your knuckles “But I think he’d like you”

You were not expecting that.

“Yeah?” you blushed slightly, suddenly flustered.

“He used to call me out on my bullshit too… and never fell for my charm too easily” he smiled fondly.

You liked the way pleasant memories seemed to light up his whole face.

“I can see some similarities then” you grinned shyly “To be fair, you need someone to keep you from getting too cocky” experimentally, you reached out to ruffle his hair.

If his blissful smile and the way he leaned into your touch were anything to go by, he did enjoy the gesture.

“I’m not sure I deserve you” he opened his eyes and looked at you with some kind of new emotion.

But before you could find any ways of answering that, he yawned. Once, then twice. The tiredness was finally catching up with him.

“Think you should try to get some sleep” upon his silent question, you added, “I’ll stay in case you need me”

For a second you wanted to offer that you will take the sofa, but somehow you knew that was not what he would have wanted. And neither did you if you were to be honest with yourself. So you just watched as he hesitantly started shifting on the bed, trying to find the most comfortable position. You switched off the forgotten tv and the lights and slowly laid down on the pillow. In the quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths. One look in his direction was enough to help you decide. You moved closer, closing the safety gap, and carefully placed your arm on his waist. After a beat, you curled up around him, with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you asked, following the tense silence.

“Yeah… It’s just that I really don’t think I deserve any of this” you could hear the apprehension creeping back into his voice.

“You deserve much more” you pressed a small kiss to his neck “But let’s start with this. Good night, Neil”

“Good night…” he hesitated but then just exhaled, letting you hug him closer to your body.

*** The peace lasted only for the first two hours. After that, you were awoken by Neil tossing nervously. Before you could properly come to your senses, he let out a few soft whimpers. Shit. You shifted so that you were hovering over him and took a long look. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched, and he was incredibly tense. Whatever nightmare he was having, it was escalating quickly. The next thing you knew, tears were falling down his cheeks, and he was mumbling something, sounding distressed. That was enough. You cupped his cheek, as softly as you could, and leaned in close:

“It’s just a dream” you kissed him on the forehead “Wake up love” you were not sure where the endearment came from.

You leaned back to see his eyes open in a blink. His gaze was unfocused, evidently still lost in the nightmarish world. Using the hand that was cupping his face, you brushed the stray hair away from his eyes. His breaths were fast yet shallow. Knowing the experience well, you immediately kicked into action.

“Neil, listen to me” you waited until his eyes locked with yours “It was just a dream. It’s all okay now” you placed your hand on his chest over the heart “You need to calm down”

“I can’t breathe” he choked out and sat up suddenly, nearly knocking you in the head.

“You’re panicking” you shifted so you could be sat in front of him.

The fact that you nearly climbed into his lap in the process had to be ignored for the time being. You took his hand in yours and placed it in the middle of your chest so he could feel the rising and falling with every breath you took. With your other hand, you tilted his chin so that he was forced to meet your gaze. His pupils were darkened by panic and adrenaline.

“Follow my breath” you made him match your breathing for a few cycles.

Once you heard his inhales and exhales elongate and level off, you let go of the hand you kept pressed to your chest. He kept it there for a moment longer, as though making sure you were really in front of him.

“I’m sorry” the heartbroken and tired look he gave you was enough to make your heart ache “You really shouldn’t have to deal with this mess”

“It was my conscious choice, and I would never leave you alone after something like this” you leaned in closer and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth “Now, let’s try going back to sleep, shall we?”

This time he was holding on to you as though you were the only constant thing. With his arms around you and the warmth of his body, you could almost forget about the mess you both had to face in the morning. Before drifting off to sleep, you pondered his words again. More and more, you were sure that he got it the wrong way around. It was you who did not deserve someone like him. And you were afraid he would soon realise as much once the initial crush (or whatever it was) passed. But for now, you allowed yourself peace as you relaxed into his embrace and buried your face in his chest. If by some accident, the universe decided to be on your side, you would not complain.

*** In the morning, you were both awakened by Ives calling to make sure both of you were alive and awake. You had to blame the awkwardness that followed it on that very phone call. You only managed to shake it off when you sat down to the breakfast you brought from the canteen. You passed Neil coffee in silence, cursing your inability to hold a conversation after everything. But this time, he had some solutions. As your fingers brushed, he set down the coffee cup on the table and turned to you:

“I’m sorry about everything that I did and said yesterday” he glanced at your split lip “I wasn’t in control... and I don’t want you to be scared. I’d never do anything like that normally” he shifted nervously.

You knew an apology was coming, especially after seeing the way he looked at you ever since waking up. And while, admittedly, his behaviour worried you, you did not dare to think about how your ‘almost’ made you feel.

“I know, and I won’t judge you on how you acted last night” you put on your best smile, hoping to end the topic as quickly as possible.

But it was not meant to be as he clearly thought hard on what to say next. All you could do was wait and listen.

“I know that I crossed some lines” finally, he found the right words “And while I can’t deny that I was acting on my genuine desires…” he searched your eyes to make sure you understood “I won’t do that again because I respect your wishes to keep this strictly friendly”

Was this your imagination, or did he sound like he did not want to say that? If you were honest with yourself, that was not something you wanted to hear either. But now was most definitely not the time, so you just reached out to squeeze his knee reassuringly.

“Thank you, and don’t worry about it. We’re all good” he covered your hand with his and mirrored your smile.

Maybe all this confusion was worth it? After a short beat, you took your hand away and went back to breakfast. The silence was still there, but at least it was less awkward now. When you noticed him frown at the headache that was undoubtedly bothering him, you passed a painkiller. He smiled gratefully.

“So… when is my plane?” he asked after you both cleared the plates.

You could tell that he was dreading the trip. And it hurt to know that there was no way for you to help him.

“3 o’clock” you glanced at the watch “Which gives us about five hours to get you ready” you took in his sombre expression.

“I really don’t want to go” he met your gaze with emotionless eyes “It’s so fucking cruel to have me assist whoever the fuck that guy is when my best friend just killed himself. And I don’t even know why” the anger and hurt in his voice were somehow worse today.

Maybe it was because you could not blame it on his intoxication anymore.

“I know… And wish I had any answers, but I don’t know more than you do” you could only give him an apologetic half-smile “But I know that you have to be there to help… him”

Calling the younger version TP seemed somehow wrong. And you could only imagine how it must feel for Neil, on the eve of meeting that different version of his partner. 

“He won’t even know who I am” there was a broken edge to his voice “How am I supposed to meet him and act as though he’s a stranger?”

“Alright, walk me through what you’ve been told, and I’ll try to help as best as I can”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather go back to sleep?” he eyed you sceptically “You must be tired, and it’s all my fault”

“Neil, stop” you have had enough of the self-depreciation “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m here for you” you took his hand in yours “And I wouldn’t rest anyway without knowing you’re well. So let’s go through the plan and then I’ll help you pack”

He only gaped at you with a dazed expression on his face. You wondered how someone so incredible could ever doubt their importance so much.

*** Surprisingly you managed to get Neil ready in time for the taxi departure. Together you planned the mission, made sure he had all the necessary information and contacts and was as mentally well as he could be after everything. When the time was near, Ives knocked on his door. This time, Neil let him in. You watched as the two men embraced tightly, sharing the trauma and sadness. Ives then took a step back and eyed Neil coolly.

“You did a good job” he flashed you a smile “He looks much better than I expected”

“Would you mind?” Neil looked at you nervously, and you laughed at the brief moment of lightness.

“Must say it wasn’t easy, but I did my best” to prove a point, you wandered over to Neil and smoothed his suit jacket.

After disagreeing over the wardrobe choices you managed to convince him to take a few linen suits and shirts for the warm weather in India. Now you were proud you succeeded. To be fair he looked good in anything, but there was something more intimate in the fact that you chose his outfits. But once again, you were brought to the present moment by Ives clearing his throat:

“The taxi is leaving in half-hour. I’ll leave you two now” he gave you a knowing smile and exited the room before you could roll your eyes at him.

Realising you still had your hand on Neil’s shoulder, you took a step back. He was watching you attentively with a small smile on his face. That probably explained Ives’ allusions…

“I won’t ask if you’re ready but… are you okay?” you met his gaze.

“As much as I can be, I suppose” he shrugged dejectedly “I really wish I could stay with you instead”

You saw his hand twitch at his side and decided to choose for him by taking it into yours, naturally entwining your fingers.

“Unfortunately, this time we can’t decide for ourselves. But remember that you can call me if you need help or just to talk. Don’t worry about the time zones, I’ll always pick up” you tried your best to show how you felt through the expression in your eyes.

But that was a dangerous game as soon enough you got lost in the blue of his eyes. As always.

“Thank you” he breathed out, looking at you with such tenderness that almost made you feel faint “Still don’t think I deserve you though” he grinned shyly.

“Oh you do, and I’ll keep on saying that till you believe it” you raised your joined hands to your lips and kissed his knuckles “While I enjoy this slightly subdued version of you…”

“What?” his affronted face made you laugh.

“You know very well what I meant” you smirked and let go of his hand, only to pull him in for an embrace.

It took him only a second to hug you back, with his arms wound tightly around your waist.

“You said we should hug more often so” you whispered into his ear and enjoyed the laugh it prompted “Hope this is good enough for you” you ran a hand down his back.

Then, upon a sudden thought, you pushed your hands underneath his suit jacket and splayed them on his back, relishing the feel of his skin through the shirt fabric. The only indication that he felt the difference was a sharp gasp he let out as he drew you even closer.

“More than that” he kissed the top of your head.

After at least two minutes more, you took a step back but still kept your hands on his waist.

“Please be safe out there. Don’t do anything stupid. And…” you shut his mouth with a hand upon seeing him protest “And don’t get too drunk before the meeting. I know that it will be hard, but that could only make you more likely to fuck up”

Before you could take your palm away, he placed a peck on your wrist, near the pulse point. The voice in the back of your head kept screaming about how this definitely was not something friends do. But you told it to kindly fuck off. At least for now.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try” he flashed you a signature smile as though you could ever forget it “After all, I’m not the one to behave” proving the point, he brushed the pad of his thumb along your lower lip.

You inhaled sharply at the sensation. Looking questioningly into his eyes, you wondered whether he remembered about the earlier promise. But there was no time to find that out as sharp knocks interrupted you. It was time.

[rotomgender-moved]

Under the cut is the first part/chapter of it

Title: Runs in our Family

Word Count: roughly 1.5-2k I'd say

TWs: Near panic attacks, mild dehumanization of self, general ask to tag

Part One

The constant click of timers and bubbling of boiling water is what grounded them, eyes flickering about the room to watch over everything he had to. The rhythmic sound of a knife cutting through vegetables was like music to his ears, a hum rumbling through their chest added to the harmony of the kitchen. It made him feel in control, because he was. Guided merely by his memory of the recipe. Even then, he can tweek and test and try new things. It allowed them to have control over its life. It allowed it  to feel safe, even when working with fire and knives and pots and pans searing red with heat.

"N, my golden friend," His Zoroark companion began from their resting position. "The noodles, you need to put them in the water." N froze for a moment, startled by the sudden reminder.

"Ah! Yes, you're right. What could I do without you, Illusion." It chuckled as its own forgetfulness, scooping the fresh noodles in careful hands and putting them into the water carefully. Setting the egg timer for a minute and a half before continuing the final preparations on the vegetables. Picking them in his hands and putting them into the sauce in a few scoops. 

"You are becoming a good chef, my golden friend, but you mustn't lose yourself in your head while working with fire."

"Yes, Illusion, I am very aware. I'm working on it, I promise."

"I pray to Arceus you learn before you lose a paw."

"Hand, before I lose a hand."

"You get the picture."

Truly, N thought as he nodded to Zoroark. What could I do without you.

N let out a breath of air, turning off the fire in the stone as the timer goes off. Waiting quietly for the sauce to finish cooking. Reminding himself to take a few tablespoons of sugar and sprinkle it into the sauce, making it just that much sweeter. Waiting just for a few more moments, they have to. Reward cannot be reaped without patience, he thought, he must have patience.

To fill his time, he spread his hands up in the air in a Y shape, spinning around and humming. Fully content before he felt a sharp pain in his hand, followed by the loud BANG of the hanging pans hitting each other. N flinched, covering his ears and letting out a whine. A shiver rocked his body, but just before they could feel any tears begin to brim. A hand was placed onto his back, or a paw, moreso.

"It is alright," The voice of his pokemon cooed. "It is only cooking utensils, nothing more. Now, why don't you plate your dinner and watch some of your shows?" 

They continued to nod a little, thanking the illusionist with a scratch on the chin. Which, from the aura of joy it received from Zoroark, was greatly appreciated. N turned on their heel and scooped the noodles onto a plate he already had set aside before pouring a ladle or two of sauce onto it. N had promised Mallow a few days before that he would save some extra sauce for her to use in one of her dishes. Whatever concoction she may come up with, and however much it made the trio of chefs-turned-gym-leaders angry, he was excited to see it. 

As he settled down at his little table in his little kitchen, he smiled a tad. It had taken well a while for him to grow accustomed, or even willing, to live in a home. His first actions at coming to this strange new region had been to find an escape in the woods with his pokemon companions and live off nature for a month and a half. Which apparently, from what they deciphered from the angry ranting of a disgruntled Hugh and the chaotic explanation of a worried Alder. Had left his fellow Unovans with a wild goose chase to find him, having only been discovered by an odd group of children with accents he didn't quite recognize mistaking him for a new wild pokemon, thusly getting hit with a thunder wave that left him in the Pokemon Centers human unit for a little longer then N would prefer to admit.

Once they had been captured and as Nate and Rosa dubbed it, "Secured, Contained and Protected", they were subjected to an explanation that pulling an out-of-pocket disappearing act after the multiple both he, Hilbert and Hilda pulled off, wasn't the best idea. Which he understood! But it wasn't out-of-pocket. They should have expected it to run off into the woods and allowed it to. Or at least explained to those paralysis-happy children to watch out for an uncanny woodland dweller with a Zororak.

Even then, once they were captured, it was surely difficult for them to adjust. They were a pokemon, weren't they? A beast, that's what he'd always been told. No human would be able to speak with creatures that aren't fellow humans. But isn't it the same with Pokemon? So are these pokemon more human than beast, or is he more beast than human? Was it the years of isolation that made it hard to settle in an actual home all by itself, or was it the longing to run free with beasts like him?

N didn't like sitting in that question, so as it always did, it shoved it back into a deep corner of their mind and locked it in a little box with all those other heavy questions. All of the concerns and the old ideologies he forcibly shoves away and represses. It was all he could do, if he wasn't a beast or human. Then who could he be helped by?

Well, it didn't matter. It hadn't even noticed it had finished its plate of early dinner during his lamenting. Having been lazily twirling the fork in nothing for a good few moments to minutes. 

"N, my golden child," Zororak began. "Why don't you tuck me away and go speak to other people. You haven't left this little ranch-house in a few days; it will do you some good." They commented, nudging N's back. The soft clacks of things such as potions, a tube for those "PokeBlocks" that a pair of twins had been gifting to everyone on the island, and pokeballs.

"That… Does sound like a good idea." N agreed quietly, fully coming out of their thoughts. "Yeah." They got up off their seat and washed the plate and other utensils he had used swiftly, before shrugging their jacket back on and stringing their hair into a ponytatail once more. If Zororak thought it was a good idea, then N might as well be convinced. This pokemon had single-paw-dedly helped raise him from infancy to now. Always having found its way back to him. N thought of it as a mother and as they say. Mother knows best.

As he exited his home and was met by warm sunshine, he suddenly remembered why they had been so intrigued by the woods and all its inhabitants for oh-so-long. Or well, the week they had been there before they were hospitalized by four sneaky, pokemon hunting children. They couldn't be mad, though. They were apparently uncanny looking, Hilbert having described him as "a bit to long and a little too fluffy, with speech so fast he might as well just be making noises."  

But N didn't mind, it simply thought itself as far more built for the wild than the others. But… Thinking about it, that could be the reason why everyone though that of him. As N walked, staring down at the grass in thought. He felt his shoulder bump someone running by.

"Watch it, tall-ass!" A quite foulmouthed voice sounded, making N's eyes flicker to the redhead who was already making a getaway.

"Language!" They simply called back, rolling their eyes, hearing a distant "shut up!" as they made distance with the redhead. "Rude child." He decided, looking up to glance around the circle of homes that they had all settled in during this odd meet up. In a region that nobody seemed to have heard of, at that. It felt weird, it was weird. Why did any of them trust it?

Well, it should speak for itself. It went along, even if dragged on by his group of siblings-by-spirit. Chattering away that if they were all going, he was coming along. That they had already packed everything for him, and that if he refused they'd just sleep powder him and take him along anyway-

Why did I not run off? They thought, realizing the slight horror of that situation. Those kids were needlessly pushy in trying to get N to talk to new people. Dragging him about the cruiser they were in with all the other guests. Introducing him to some of the other kids that Nate and Hugh had already dragged into their mischief.

What were those kids names? Barry and Sapphire, he believes. Sapphire was that young lady who's brother had given him the tube of pokemon candies, if he remembers. Barry was a talkative young boy who seemed to immediately jump ship to play along with Nate and Hugh's pranks. He also remembers a handful of other faces, a married couple he vaugly remembers seeing on a few news casts back in Unova, Red and Green were their names. Along with another lady he didn't recognize, who took quickly to chatting along with Hilbert and Hilda. Rosa had been coaxing a green haired boy out of his shell with who he thinks was Sapphire's brother. 

He remembers a few other faces. A circle of kids all taking part in pokemon trading under Lance's watch. Bianca and Cheren, listening to a young boy, chitter away about his brother. Two boys nearly tearing at eachother, and not in a pokemon battle, while their supposed companions either encouraged it or tried to seperate them. One of them was that redhead who had swore at them, he thinks. 

But most importantly, he met Mallow and Guzma on that ship. The only two he confidently remembers the names and faces of. Mallow was a sweet woman, a trial captain. She had seen his shivery, nervous nature and pulled him aside from the crowd. He had listened to her talk about cooking and asked a few questions himself. Which is where that interest began. Guzma was… well he can only say he was Guzma. Rough around the edges yet smooth in the soul type, who had introduced him to N's first new species of pokemon in a while. A very, very polite and well mannered Gollisapod. He could sense even before listening to the pokemon that it was well cared for. 

It further made their heart pull, obviously the pokemon was battle-scarred. One or two chips on its shell that were healing overtime. But still so… Happy. Pokemon Battles weren't that bad, he knew that. But the confirmation that it was all okay was still nice.

"Hey, you!" A voice snapped him from his thoughts, making him turn. "Yeah, you! Take a few steps back. You almost walked yourself off a cliff." 

"Oh- why thank you! I didn't even notice."

"Obviously you didn't," He snorted a little. "You're that N guy that Rosa was telling me about! I'm Ruby, I was out trying to see some new pokemon. But all I caught was you almost about to take a trip off a cliff." Ruby rolled his eyes.

"Well, I was lost in thought. Thank you again for catching me, Ruby. Though I'm sure I would've survived a fall into some sand." N shrugged, examining Ruby as the boy nodded over his shoulder.

"Well… Maybe as a thank you, you could come to the community house where all of us trainers are. Rosa said you had some pretty cool Pokemon that you never let anyone touch the PokeBalls of. It's gotten the group talking." Ruby smiled, eyes crinkling. N paused in thought, feeling the pokeball in his hand he recognized as Zororaks. It wanted them to talk to other people… So they might as well. Even if the idea of presenting their pokemon to people they didn't know made their stomach twist. 

"... Okay, alright. I will. Lead the way, Ruby."

[thetravelerwrites]

Ichabod (Demon/Fae)

Rating: Teen Relationships: Female Human/Male Demon-Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Demon, Fae Content Warnings: Multiple Sclerosis, Muscle Spasms, Temporary Paralysis, Wheelchair, Mobility Aids, Period Mention, Blood Mention Words: 4280

Commission by @littlemissmonsterfan​, this story debuts a new series set in Declan’s universe: The Towns! A young woman with Multiple Sclerosis is living in a convent just outside Shelter Forest, being cared for by the nuns there. A traveling physician frequently sells his medicines to the nuns, and when the young woman falls into a ravine and can't get out, the physician comes to her rescue. She soon begins to suspect he's not exactly human. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Growing up in the Temple of Lilith had been an interesting way to spend your childhood. The Daughters of Lilith believed that she was the original feminist, refusing to be bent to the will of both Adam and God. Where many considered her a demon, the Daughters saw her as the model of womanhood: strong, self-reliant, and rejecting the notion of living under the thumb of any man, mortal or immortal.

Having been abandoned on their doorstep when you were only a few years old, they had taken you in and raised you, as they had many young women over the years, despite your condition. There was something wrong with your nerves, which caused tremors, spasms, and twitching in your body. Sometimes, you experienced a temporary paralysis of your feet and legs, which made walking difficult. The Daughters had commissioned a special chair for you from the local wood carver, which had wheels so that you could be pushed along during your episodes of muscle weakness and paralysis. There were also special canes they’d had made for you so that you could walk unassisted when you had the strength to do so.

You often experienced pain, especially when trying to sleep, and the local apothecarist’s typical medicines didn’t seem to help. Luckily, there was a traveling physician who came by regularly that sold more potent tinctures, which helped tremendously. The Daughters seem to distrust him, though in fairness, they had a natural distrust for men in general.

He’d been coming every few months since you could remember, and the Daughters would hide you away when he came to sell his wares, fearful of some awful thing they refused to share with you. You’d grown up with a curiousness about this man, wondering if you’d ever meet him, if he was as nefarious as the Daughters insisted he could be, and if he perhaps could do something to help you walk better. He was a doctor, after all.

You caught your first glimpse of him when you were fifteen. You managed to sneak out of your room while the Daughters were at prayer, dodging past Daughter Liana who was charged with caring for you, and saw him through a stained-glass window coming up the secluded path that led to the convent. He was punctual, always coming on the first day of the new season, always in the morning as prayers were being said. He waited patiently for prayers to conclude and for the Eldest Daughter to greet him at the steps, never entering until he was invited. You watched him as he waited, standing still as a statue, one hand on the strap of the large back slung over his shoulder and the other behind his back.

He was an extremely tall, willowy person, almost inhumanly thin and lanky, with an androgynous appearance you weren’t used to seeing. He had incredibly long, white hair pulled into a practical braid down his back, and dark, nearly black eyes. His skin was equally as pale as his hair and, in the sun, seemed to have an almost iridescent sheen to it, though that could have been an effect of looking through the colored glass. You couldn’t determine his age; he seemed older than his smooth, angular face and lithe form would suggest but still quite young. He wore a plain, black suit and coat, similar to what a priest might wear, except that it had no priest’s collar. Instead, a physician’s symbol was embroidered on the left breast. He had no other adornments or decoration.

He seemed a simple, practical man to your young eyes. While you had to admit to yourself that he was quite beautiful in an almost preternatural kind of way, looking at him now you had no doubt that the was every bit as dangerous as the Daughters warned you he was.

Abruptly, his eyes shifted from the front gate, where he was waiting patiently, to the window upstairs where you were hiding, watching him. You ducked down as best you could, hoping the stained glass hid you from his view, but his gaze never wavered. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you wanted to turn and run, but you were glued to the spot. His face was expressionless, so you couldn’t determine if he could actually see you or not. But he kept staring.

Then, Eldest Daughter exited the main building and opened the gate for him. He turned his attention to her, never once acknowledging if he saw you. He shook Eldest’s hand, smiling cordially, and followed her inside. You shook yourself out of your stupor and escaped back to your room, your heart pounding. You felt faint and decided to lay down. Unfortunately, you ran into Daughter Liana on your way there.

“What are you doing out of your room!” She exclaimed in a loud whisper. “You know what day it is!”

“I was only going to the privy!” You lied as she took your arm and helped you to where your chair was waiting.

“You shouldn’t be out where he could see you!”

“Why would that matter?” You asked. “Besides, he’s a doctor, Liana. Wouldn’t it be better if he knew I was here? He could help me,” You argued for perhaps the hundredth time.

“Other than his tinctures, you don’t need his kind’s help,” She muttered darkly.

“His kind? Do you mean men, or something else?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she ushered you into your chair, laid a blanket over your legs, and wheeled you back to your room.

You didn’t see him again after that. Daughter Liana made it a point to sit in the room with you on days the physician visited, making sure you didn’t wander. You resented this confinement, but you couldn’t do much about it.

Several years passed. As you grew into adulthood, Eldest Daughter had asked you many times about becoming a nun yourself, rather than just a ward of the convent. You already participated in all the daily rituals anyway, you were practically a nun already, she argued. All that was left was to take the vows. You confessed to her that you weren’t certain that you wanted to join the nunnery. Eldest simply asked you to consider it and left it at that.

You were pretty sure you wouldn’t have much of a choice before long. There weren’t very many options available to you and you certainly didn’t have any other place to go. Your legs were becoming weaker as you got older, and you were concerned that you’d be bound to the invalid’s chair permanently, which didn’t lend you much in the way of job prospects. You could weave baskets and straw hats on your good days, but that alone wouldn’t be enough to earn you a living.

You’d had the idea of trying to marry, but there were several problems with that. Not only would the Daughters be severely disappointed in you, but you also didn’t want to be a burden to your spouse.

Besides, you often thought with a sad sigh, who would want me, anyway?

One thing you did enjoy was blackberry picking for the autumn wine the Daughters made every year. The wine was consecrated and sold to young women for luck and fortune. It was also a really good dessert wine.

You went out with Daughter Liana to the edge of the grounds and sat down in a full patch, picking around the brambles. This was about as far as you’d ever been from the cloisters since being left here; you weren’t exactly forbidden from leaving, you simply couldn’t get far on your own. Beyond this patch was the treeline to the forest, which you’d never set foot in and had no interest in doing. You’d heard all manner of stories about the creatures who lived there and weren’t excited about the prospect of meeting any of them.

“I’m going to deliver this bushel to the kitchen,” Daughter Liana said, standing up with her basket. “Will you be alright here on your own for a few moments?”

“Of course,” You said with a laugh, not looking up from picking. “Where would I go?”

“Where indeed,” She teased with a chuckle, and you saw her shadow disappear.

You had picked all you could reach from this spot and reached for your cane to move to another, only to find it wasn’t were you left it. It was just on the edge of the treeline about ten feet away.

“What?” You muttered to yourself. With a little bit of struggle, you managed to get to your feet without the cane and limp over to it. As you bent down to retrieve it, the ground seemed to shift underneath you, and you fell tail over teakettle down a ravine that seemed magically placed at the entrance to the treeline. Rocks and shrubs beat and cut your skin as you rolled, finally coming to a stop near a dead, broken tree. You barely had time to register your surroundings when you lost consciousness.

When you woke up, your head was killing you and you heard the others calling your name. Your cane was nowhere to be seen. You tried using the tree to stand, but your left leg fell out from under you and wouldn’t support any weight.

“No, not now!” You cried. “Help! I’m down here! Help!”

You kept calling, but your voice didn’t seem to escape the barrier of the trees.

“Oh, god, I don’t want to spend the night here,” You whispered.

“Could I be of assistance?” A deep voice asked from behind you. You gasped and turned, seeing the ethereal physician coming up. You hadn’t even heard his footsteps. You gasped at his sudden presence and you grabbed around for your cane or a stick or something to defend yourself with.

He held up his hands and ducked his head. “My apologies! I didn’t mean to startle you! We’ve been searching for you. Do you need help?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “...yes…please,” You said slowly. “What are you doing out here?”

“The Daughters have been looking for you for hours.”

“Hours?” You exclaimed.

The physician nodded, coming closer cautiously. “Word got to the village nearby, where I’m currently staying. I felt I should lend my aid. Are you alright?”

You shook your head, but stopped when the pain worsened. “No, sir, I cannot stand.”

He regarded you with a concerned expression, his dark eyes sweeping over your prone body. “Have you broken or sprained something?”

“No, sir,” You repeated. “I have weak muscles and my nerves are bad. My left leg is paralyzed and I think I hit my head.”

“I see.” He knelt and, after showing you his hands were empty and he wasn’t a threat, began gently prodding your head. “You’ve got a bit of a knot here, and you’re pretty scraped up all over. You must have had a nasty fall. Well, nothing for it.” He put his arms under you and lifted you effortlessly; you squeaked and held onto his shoulders.

“Put me down! I’m too heavy!”

“Nonsense! How else are you going to get out of this ravine? Please allow me to help.” He looked down with a shy smile. “Call me Ichabod, if you would. Are you one of the nuns? You’re not wearing the vestments.”

“I’m a ward of the convent, sir,” You replied as he began hiking up the incline. You were a rather chubby young woman and you were surprised that he showed no signs of exertion, despite carrying your weight uphill. “Though the Eldest has been pushing me to take the vows.”

“Ward?” He echoed. “I’ve never heard of a ward at the convent. Have you recently come to live here?”

“No, sir,” You replied, trying not to stare at his very pretty face. “I’ve been here since I was a small child.”

His face scrunched, though you weren’t certain why. “Please, I insist you call me Ichabod. May I ask your name?”

“Ellis,” You replied. “Though I don’t know if that’s my real name. It’s just what the Daughters call me.” You looked around you as he carried you upward. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen my cane, would you?”

“I’m afraid not,” He replied with a contrite smile. “Do you need a cane to walk?”

“When I’m strong enough to walk,” You said. “Although I am confined to a chair on bad days.”

“I’m assuming you are the person the Daughters buy the medicine for, then?” He asked kindly.

“Yes,” You admitted. “I get pain fairly regularly, and the normal tinctures don’t help. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

He laughed. “Sorry. Trade secret.” He looked down at you, frowning. “How on earth did you get to the bottom of the ravine?”

“It was the strangest thing,” You told him. “My cane was moved away from me. I went to fetch it and it was like the ground crumbled beneath me.”

“Ah,” He said. “Yes, it’s not good to wander near this part of the forest. The convent grounds are protected, but fairies have been known to play tricks on unsuspecting humans who encroach on their territory. You weren’t the first and you likely won’t be the last.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” You said sarcastically. “There are really fairies out here?”

“Afraid so,” He replied. “And they’re not like the ones in story books.” He finally made it to the crest of the hill and he hadn’t even broken a sweat. “Ah, here we are. Ladies!” He called at the group gathered at the steps. “I’ve found her!”

There were relieved gasps and exclamations from the Daughters as they rushed forward to receive you. Liana came forward with your chair and Ichabod eased you down into it.

“There now,” He said. “Let’s get you inside so I can see to those wounds.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eldest said curtly. “But we can take it from here.”

“Very well,” Ichabod replied pleasantly. “Then can you refer me to her normal physician? I’d like to inform them of her current predicament and ensure she’s seen right away.”

Eldest shifted uncomfortably.

Ichabod eyed her with a stern expression. “She is seeing a doctor regularly, isn’t she? It’s unhealthy for someone in her condition to not be getting regular medical attention.”

“Well…” Eldest mumbled. “It may have been some time since she was last seen by a doctor.”

Ichabod frowned. “That won’t do, Madam. That won’t do at all. This woman’s condition requires attention. You gentlewomen are quite knowledgeable, I have no doubt, but forgive my impertinence, none of you are doctors.” He looked down at you, appraising. “How long have you had this illness?”

“My whole life,” You replied. “It’s gotten worse as I’ve aged.”

His frown deepened. “As far as I’m aware, there is no physician in the village, correct?”

Well… no, sir,” Daughter Liana confessed.

“What therapies have you employed to strengthen her muscles and alleviate her pain?”

The Daughters glanced at each other furtively. “We’ve only given her the medicine.”

“Unacceptable,” Ichabod replied sternly. “I’ll be surprised if she hasn’t developed a dependency after taking it for so long. It isn’t good for her to rely on the pain-killer alone. She needs physical therapy and regular exercise.” He looked down at you and smiled shyly. “I’d be happy to undertake the position of your personal doctor, if you’d take me.”

“I couldn’t take up so much of your time!” You insisted. “You don’t need to go to so much trouble!”

“It’s no trouble at all, I assure you,” He replied. “Caring for others is what I’m supposed to do. It’s my job, after all.” He reached into his bag and took out an ointment jar and bandages. “Now let’s get these injuries seen to.”

“I must put my foot down,” Eldest said. “It is inappropriate of you to be this young woman’s physician.”

“This young woman is an adult, is she not?” Ichabod retorted. “Isn’t it less appropriate to assume what she wants without asking her first?” He looked down and smiled. “What say you, miss?”

You could sense the disapproval from all of the Daughters, but you couldn’t help feel curious.

“Can you really help me?” You asked him.

He sighed. “I can’t make any promises. Your condition has gone untreated for a long time and the damage may be irreversible. There are no magic cures, I’m afraid. But you have my word that I’ll do my utmost for you and I will do everything in my power to ease your discomfort.”

You took a breath and nodded. “Very well, then.”

The Daughters murmured in dissent, but they didn’t argue. Ichabod bowed.

“Excellent. Now, can we finally get these injuries seen to? I’m getting twitchy just looking at them.”

After treating your wounds and an in-depth examination, during which he observed your muscles spasms and twitches, Ichabod made arrangements to come twice a week after tea time for therapy and assessments. Daughter Liana had been in the room during the examination, acting as a chaperone. She’d gone to fetch some extra blankets to elevate your legs, as Ichabod suggested for your comfort, but she had left the door wide open.

“Let’s cut your consumption of the painkiller back to a single teaspoon before bed,” He said, setting a new bottle on your bedside table. “You’ll likely always need the medicine, but there are other things we can do to lessen the aches and pains that doesn’t require knocking you into a stupor. When I come back in a few days, I’ll bring some simple exercise items, some walking aids, and we’ll begin to tailor your treatment regime.”

“Are you sure you’re not putting yourself out?” You asked him from your chair. He had helped you get back in it after the exam.

“Absolutely not,” He insisted. “It’ll be a challenge to determine what will and won’t help you in the long term, but I didn’t become a doctor because it was easy. I want to help people. And you need help. It’s as simple as that, miss.”

When he returned for his scheduled appointment, he had brought with him something he called a triple-stick, which looked like three canes nailed together with short planks of wood in an open vector shape. At the base of each cane was a wheel. He also had strips of stretchy fabric, ointments, and a bag of herbs.

“Your muscle tone concerns me,” He said, laying out the items on a table. “It’s clear you’ve been largely sedentary, which has led to some atrophy, especially in your legs. I think we’ll start with some simple lie-down stretching and moving your joints a bit. I’d also recommend a deep tissue massage with the ointment, but I assume as if your caretakers would object to that.”

“You assume correctly,” Liana said from the corner, not looking up from her embroidery.

“Therefore, I will leave the ointment with you and allow you to apply it yourself,” Ichabod said with a small chuckle. “Now, lie down and get comfortable.”

You obeyed, laying on the cot with the blankets under your legs for comfort. You were wearing a light linen tunic and matching short breeches, which seemed more practical than your normal dresses and skirts.

He tied one of the strips of fabric into a loop, had you brace it on your forearms and put one foot into the loop, pushing away from your body until your leg was fully extended against the tension of the fabric. He had you hold it for three seconds, then pull your knee back and relax your leg. Three seconds extended, three seconds relaxed. After ten pushes with the left leg, he had you switch to the right.

“Doing alright?” He asked as he watched your progress.

“Yes,” You said, just as your right arm twitched.

“Is that painful?” He asked.

“No, it’s just annoying,” You replied.

He smiled. “I imagine. Do you want to continue?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, but if it becomes uncomfortable, let me know immediately. We don’t want to pull or tear anything.”

“I will.”

Three full rounds each leg, and then he had you do the same with your arms. The twitching made holding the extended arm difficult, but you powered through it. He then had you lie still and rest.

“Was that too hard?” He asked.

“No, just tiring,” You replied.

“Good,” He said, pleased. “We’ll do these every few days. I want to rebuild your muscle mass before we try anything more complicated. When you can do those without getting fatigued, we’ll move up to five, then ten. After that, we’ll introduce new exercises.”

You huffed a laugh. “I was worried this was going to be excruciating and panic-inducing.”

He laughed with you. “Not at all. A little bit of soreness is to be expected, but the whole point is to help you move without pain. Working you to the point of torment would be counterproductive.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “When you feel rested, we’ll go again.”

It went on this way for a few weeks, with the therapy slowly getting more and more challenging. It was tiring but rewarding; you could feel your muscles strengthened with each session. He also insisted you take regular walks around the grounds using the triple stick. On days when the twitching in your arms was too bad to allow exercise, he focused on training your legs. On days when your legs refused to obey you, he would move them for you. You could work longer and longer as time went on without feeling as tired. You were surprised at how much of a difference a little bit of treatment had made.

The Daughters were still very distrustful of Ichabod, and you yourself kept him at an arm’s distance. Even still, you had to admit you were quite taken with his quiet patience, soft voice, shy smile, and gentle laugh. He’d never failed to be pleasant and courteous, even in the face of the Daughters’ borderline rudeness and your difficult days when you were grouchy and in pain. You couldn’t help feeling charmed by him.

Having said that, you knew there was something… not quite right about him. Up close, you often thought his skin looked strangely shimmery, like that of a dragonfly’s wing, but perhaps that was only because he was so pale. His eyes would sometimes appear black and starry, but the effect was gone when he blinked, and you’d almost convinced yourself it was a trick of the light. You had once asked him his age, and he had laughed in a good-natured way and said “old enough,” leaving it at that.

Whatever he was, whatever lay underneath the veneer, you wondered if you’d care at all if you saw it. You wondered if you’d be frightened, if he’d be as otherworldly as his human self, or if he would be some thing made of ash and smoke, something that would blow away if you got to close.

On your next scheduled therapy day, you could feel that your monthly courses were going to begin very soon; you felt fatigued and your belly was tender and a little bloated. You were worried that it might be awkward or affect your ability to do the exercises.

Ichabod, however, was as bright and energetic as ever when he arrived.

“Good afternoon, Ellis!” He said cheerfully. “How are you feeling today?”

“A bit tired, actually,” You admitted.

“I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll take it easy today, then,” He said. “Daughter Liana, would you be so kind as to fetch a pan of warm water?”

“Certainly,” Liana said, setting down her stitching. Ichabod had begun to soak your feet in herb-infused water at the beginning of every session to ease the pain in your joints.

Ichabod thanked Liana as she shuffled off and began setting out the items from his bag. He helped you sit on the edge of your bed and remove your indoor slippers. “Hmm,” He hummed, inhaling deeply.

“What?”

“You smell nice today. Are you wearing perfume?”

You blushed. He had never complimented you like that before.

“No,” You replied. “I don’t own perfume.”

“Oh.” He moved your foot forward and back carefully, working the tendons gingerly, his touch as firm as it always is. “Different soap?”

“Nope. Same as usual.”

“Odd,” He said contemplatively. “I wonder why…” His hands stilled, holding your leg loosely in his grasp, staring at the skin. Before you could ask if anything was wrong, he leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss on your ankle. You could feel something sharp jab you and the tip of his tongue playing across your skin. You jumped and gasped.

He came back to awareness and flung himself away from you, crashing into the table, his hands hiding his face.

“Forgive me!” He cried. “Please forgive me! That was most inappropriate! My sincerest apologies, I don’t know what came over me!” He began to quickly pack up his supplies. “I… I feel unwell suddenly. Perhaps we should postpone this session until we’re both in better spirits.”

“Of course,” You said slowly, completely taken aback and in shock. “I… I hope you feel better.”

“Y-yes… thank you,” He replied. Continuing to avoid your eye, he shouldered his bag and left abruptly without a farewell.

You stared after Ichabod where he had disappeared through the door in a state of utter confusion. You looked down and saw a single cut, barely a pin-prick, on your ankle. A small spot of blood welled up there, and you reached down to wipe it away.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[nightsonights]

one shot ii - z.k.

masterlist

summary: a continuation of this imagine. feel free to read that one and then come back!!

warnings: slight cursing.

author’s note: p.s., tired of putting “y/n” as being the main POV so her name is aaliyah ;)

•••

“aaliyah. wake up.”

the voice echoed incoherently through the passing wisps of my fading sensation; urging me out of my perturbed slumber.

with very little self-awareness and energy, i rubbed the lids of my eyes with my palms of my fingers. i peered groggily into the darkness of the unfamiliar room.

in the still absence of light, i could make out the outline of zion’s ghostly figure.

the starts and ends of his plantium ringlets. the plump tissues of his lips. the dark densely laid hairs of his brow ridge.

i watched in hushed trepidation as his low hung eyes flickered over my body hidden beneath the darken blue tones of the guest bed’s duvet.

zion’s sluggish stature stood hesitatingly in the corner of the room; emulating the fictional demons that appeared in childhood nightmares.

“aaliyah,” he spoke again, stepping into the umbra of the street lights outside,“let’s go home.”

*home*

zion and i’s shared space had grew foreign to the memorable tissues of my amygdala.

the space where the decor was the my perfect combination of whites and light blues alongside the occasional unmatched piece of furniture that came as a result of zion’s attempt at interior design.

the pee stain simba left on the living room carpet that never quite got out.

the slightly slanted painting in the bathroom that hung adjacent to the toilet.

the exceeding capacity of the ash tray on zion’s night stand.

the creak of the bedroom door from the slams of frustration.

*home*

i didn’t wanna go home. it didn’t reside in the familiarity that home was supposed to imprint on me. my home was no longer the pee stains or paintings or the creeks in the structure.

home tonight was the foreign, cold sheets of the guest bedroom in someone else’s house. the softness of nick’s embrace. the complicated innocence of his lips. the unsettling recognition that zion didn’t love me anymore.

my new home consisted of sinking my weight into the plush cushions of zion’s fleeting unconditional infatuation.

curling my toes into the fibrous fur blanket of scandalous and revengeful betrayal.basking in the oncoming rays peeking through the curtains of emotional anguish and grief.

*home*

“we don’t have to talk. please, let’s just go home” zion pleaded.

zion’s remorseful offer appealed to the guilt lingering in the forefront of my conscious. i couldn’t tell him.

my mouth could never uttered the words of absolute betrayal. the type of treachery that happened in the most dramatic of Spanish soap operas.

i will hold onto this secret until my breath is staggered and my heart pumped fewer units of blood to my brain. and even then i would never let it slip into the ink of any letter from among my grave.

i knew zion. and i knew he would never forgive me. he would never forgive nick.

this secret would be a liability; a constant enraging anxiety in the back of his mind. it would effect his career and his relationships.

i couldn’t tell him.

i silently pushed away the suddenly overwhelming duvet, leaving my body exposed before the cold air that left goosebumps on the bare of my legs.

i sat up and dragged my feet off the bed. i slipped my feet into the low memory foam pads of my slippers.

digging into my hoodie pocket, i retrieved my keys. i momentarily toyed with the set of keys enclasped within the palm of my hand.

“okay. you drive” i muttered.

•••

zion slipped the gold key into the lock, opening the padded door that revealed the dark living room of our condo.

his long digits searched for the panel on the wall before flicking the switch upwards; the lamps turning on in a symphony of fluorescent rays.

simba’s small paws scratched against the floor as he scurried at the presence of company. he let out a series of loud barks, cheerfully scampering around my feet.

“hi simba baby” i cooed, kneeling down to pet the adorable furball.

i trailed my fingers to the back of simba’s ears and gently rubbed.

i caught the last glimpses of zion’s silhouette as he mutely disappeared down the corridor towards our bedroom. the long familiar high-pitched creak sounded within the silence of the flat before the stern, abrupt close of the bedroom door.

i dishearteningly turned my attention back to simba, who’s playful energy settled down as he found himself slowly crumbling to the floor in pleasure.

“you like that buddy? you should be asleep right now. it’s late” i chastised, continuing to apply pressure to his soft fur. “cmon, let’s go to bed.”

i scooped the large fur ball into my arms. i carried him into the kitchen where his bed resided; gently placing him down onto the mess of small pillows and chew toys.

my fingertips connected with the short curly strands of his coat again; calming his energetic heaving down.

“good night buddy” i departed, switching the lights off on my way out.

i retreated towards the corridor, following the stream of light coming from under the bedroom door. the wood of the door creaked again at my arrival.

zion sat on the bed of bunched up blankets and sheets; joint hanging dangerously between the slips of his fingers.

i watched in intriguing annoyance as he inhaled sharply; letting the smoke seep into the intricate structure of his intercostal muscles.

the pungent earthy suspension of carbon dioxide left me lightheaded as i lifted the sturdy cotton of my hoodie over my head.

i tossed the article of clothing into the laundry hamper before tugging open my draw in search of a tank top. in my peripheral view, i witnessed zion’s reflection fixate on the straps of my bra from the mirror propped up against the dresser.

i ignored his hostile stare and continued to search the folded contents of my draw.

“are you and nick fucking?”

the accusation awakened a jump of bewilderment, causing me to immediately glance up into the mirror at zion’s nonchalant mirrored clone.

he gazed longly at the simmering embers of his blunt as another curl of smoke escaped the full of his lips. my lack of an answer impeded on enjoyment of his marijuana hypothesis.

zion turned towards his ash tray and pressed the cherry against the glass before being met with my antagonistic glare.

“why the fuck would you ask me that?” i snapped defensively.

“just answer the question aaliyah.”

i whipped around to face him, disregarding the need for a shirt.

“no, you don’t get to say you don’t love me and then ask me some fuck shit” i spat.

“i can ask you whatever the fuck i want when you walk into my space with another mans scent on you!” zion exclaimed.

the truth of his words left me in a temporary state of speech paralysis; not sure whether to eclipse into a state of panic or scold myself for being so careless in the attempt to cover up my secret.

my lips quivered in search of a response but the signals possessed by the cerebrum struggled to find one.

he knows. zion knows about my infidelity. my infidelity with his one of his best friends.

a series of prolonged pain surged through the ventricles of my heart as it came to terms with the depletion of my short lived façade.

i was gonna lose my boyfriend. the late night cuddles. his tender kisses. the silly voicemails and text messages. all the tear inducing laughs.

i was gonna lose the love of my life over a moment of accidental fervent inclination.

“wow” zion breathed. his eyes dilated in a wave of horror as he recognized the truth behind my delayed response.

“zion, pleas-“

“no! answer the fucking question.” zion’s voice was stern, his clinched jaw serving as a representation of his inner emotions of insecure rage.

i wiped a lone tear that rolled down my cheek; staring up at the ceiling in hopes that my eyes would stop watering.

“we kissed. nick and i kissed.”

i avoided zion’s expression, not able to handle the shift that this truth would weigh on him. my fingernails dug into the blenched white oak wood of the dresser, waiting for the deafening silence to pass.

i tore my vacant eyes away from the corner of the room and slowly looked over at zion. his eyes narrowed at me with a hard rigidness. there was no trace of tears or incoming punt-up anger ready to explode in fits of broken glass or furniture.

just the unrelenting, still look of a person who no longer viewed me as a friend. as a girlfriend.

i believed if my imagination enhanced its stimulus i could catch a glimpse of the once loving, playful signature of my dread headed lover.

but as of now, as i looked into the dark of zion’s pupils, i could see no longer recognize the man that sat before me.

“zion, i’m so so sorry. it meant nothing. please, j-just say something” i chocked, my voice cracking under the suffocating air of the room.

zion hesitated before his upper lip curled into a nonchalant pout; shaking his head conclusively. “i’m done. we’re done.”

my eyes widened in horror as i watched zion with teary vision lift himself up and make his strides towards the door.

i quickly ran over to obscure his only exit. i blocked the door with my body; fiercely standing my ground.

“move” he ordered, his tone hard and stable.

“no zion. please.”

unable to control my final urges, i leaned forward and cupped his cheeks; pressing our foreheads together. he immediately gripped his large hands around my wrists, ready to tear my hands from his face.

but as we stared into each other’s teary eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“zion. i love you,” i sobbed, firmly pressing the palms on my hands into the soft of his cheeks, “i love you so fucking much. and i’m so sorry. i didn’t want this to happen. i would never ever hurt you like that. please. don’t leave me.”

tears slipped down the olive of zion’s cheeks; finding refuge on the tips of my fingers. he finally pulled my hands away, gently pulling them into the heaving of my chest.

“fuck you. we’re done” he voiced confidently.

and with that, zion slipped past me; door creaking as he closed it behind him.

[ohmyprodigalson]

I want to start off by saying I love your docs, and spent like an hour reading them, and then asking for a really angsty malcolm x reader where she had a son that she lost before they met and only Gil knows about it, and they’re a case of something about kids dying, and end the end it’s too much and she breaks down and Malcolm is there and comforts her? Maybe she goes a little insane and he has to stop her from doing something?

Please take the trigger warnings very seriously. Some people may find a lot of the content very disturbing.

Trigger Warnings: Extreme child abuse, abuse of an infant, murder of an infant, medical tragedies involving an infant that leads to death, violence against a woman.

Word Count: 1,554

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Gil stood in front of the doorway to the house. He reached his arm out to stop (Y/N) as she was approaching the threshold. “I don’t think you should work this one.”

“What do you mean? I’ll be fine. This is my job. I can handle anything.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Gil had a stern look on his face. “I don’t think you can come back after seeing this.”

“I said I’ll be fine. Just let me through.” She pushed his arm out of the way and followed the trail of forensic investigators to one of the bedrooms upstairs. A group of them parted to let her into the room. Before her was the body of an eighteen-month old.

He was clearly beaten to death. He was covered in bruises, and there was an indentation on the back of his head where he had been thrown against the wall. The evil that lead to his demise was heavily contrasted by the pure face of a sleeping angel.

The room was nearly silent. Everyone’s imaginations were running rampant with images of a baby being beaten, and the bone-chilling cries he would have let out. All that could be heard were the whispers between forensic scientists and Edrisa as she examined the body. The room was silent enough that (Y/N) could hear the father sobbing in the living room downstairs.

(Y/N) pulled herself away from the scene to go talk to the father. She found him distraught, with red and puffy eyes. (Y/N) just listened to his conversation with Dani.

“I’ve been gone on a huge business trip for about a week. I thought I could trust my wife to take care of the baby, but I was wrong. I was so wrong…!” He was hunched over himself, holding his eyes as he continued to cry. “She’s just been so angry lately. I don’t know what’s wrong, but she doesn’t want to be around the baby. She kept complaining that her head hurt, and the baby was making it worse. I thought they would be ok together while I was gone, but…”

Dani was calm when she spoke. “Do you know where your wife might be?”

“I have no idea. She doesn’t have any family around here, and she has alienated herself from her friends because she has been so angry.”

They gave him their condolences and went back to the precinct to start investigating the whereabouts of the suspect. When they got there, Gil pulled (Y/N) to the side. “Are you ok? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“I can’t. I… I need to see that justice is served for this baby.” Even though she claimed she was alright, there was a storm deep inside her. It was filled with rage, sadness, and even a touch of jealousy. She was jealous that this woman had a living, healthy baby while hers was not.

Gil didn’t want to push her, so he let her stay on the case against his better judgement. Malcolm noticed that something was wrong with (Y/N), but he just assumed that she was deeply disturbed by the nature of the case. As they were discussing their leads, another officer told them that there was activity on the suspect’s credit card. They tracked it to a local motel, and the team decided to go apprehend her.

They decided to split up when they got there, just in case. Malcolm and (Y/N) stuck around the outside of the building where they could see if the suspect fled in a different direction than they thought she would. Surely enough, as Dani and JT were knocking on her door, (Y/N) saw the woman dart out from the exit on the side of the building. She ran after the suspect, and she was faster than Malcolm. When (Y/N) caught up to her, she tackled her to the ground and started punching her in the face.

Malcolm tried to pull (Y/N) off of her when he got to them, but in her anger, (Y/N) accidentally hit Malcolm in the face. He staggered backwards, surprised, and watched as (Y/N) continued to beat the woman into a bloody pulp. Malcolm tried to pull her off of the suspect again, lifting her up by her arms as he linked them with his own. As he pulled her off of the woman, (Y/N) started kicking her. When the others ran over to Malcolm and (Y/N), they found the suspect on the ground, unrecognizable through the blood that covered her face.

Gil exclaimed, “What happened here?!” He looked at (Y/N), still held back by Malcolm, and saw that she was crying.

She started to shout, her voice strained through her tears. “That’s how your baby felt!! Your own child!! That is what he felt during his last moments on this earth, and you did that to him!! He was just a baby!! He wouldn’t understand anger, because he should only know love!! You didn’t deserve to be a mother!! You don’t deserve to be happy ever again!! I hope you are beaten every single minute of every single day so that you will never forget what you did to that sweet, innocent child!!”

The suspect started to cry, and none of them were sure if she was crying because of her physical pain, or if she was crying because of the death of her baby and (Y/N)’s words. Gil yelled at Malcolm to pull (Y/N) away before she could do any more damage. He took her to the opposite side of the building where they could have some privacy.

He couldn’t hide his confusion and surprise. “What happened back there?!”

Her anger turned to sorrow as she sat on the ground. Malcolm kneeled down to be at eye-level with her, but she still averted her gaze. He waited for her to speak, and she finally did so with a small, sad voice.

“How can a mother not love her child? How can she find such evil in her heart that she’s compelled to beat her own baby to death? The screams and the cries of that baby… How could she inflict such pain and not even care?”

Malcolm’s voice was low and calm. He wanted to talk her through this, because it was clearly very disturbing for her. “I don’t know. We may never know.”

(Y/N)’s voice started to crack and squeak because she was crying so hard. “I would give anything, even my own life, to hold my baby in my arms again. I couldn’t save my baby, and she willingly gave hers away? She didn’t even give him away, she inflicted pain upon that innocent baby. She didn’t want her child, and I can’t imagine a life where I will never miss my own.”

Malcolm was shocked. (Y/N) had a baby? She never told Malcolm about him or why she no longer had him. Gil was the only person that knew, because he was there to watch her grieve. But a mother’s grieving for her child is never really over, is it?

Malcolm’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “You had a baby?”

(Y/N) nodded her head as she sniffled. She was crying so hard that her nose was uncontrollably running. “My little Henry. He was taken from me far too soon. I still love him so much.” Her voice squeaked again with her last words.

He was afraid to ask, but he wanted to prompt (Y/N) to talk about her baby. That was clearly what she needed to do right now, so that he could help her process her feelings about this case. “How did you lose him?”

She gulped. Her throat hurt from the strain of crying. “He had his first stroke a week after he was born. He seemed fine, except for some slight paralysis of his left leg. Still, I was so grateful that he was alive and smiling. But then he kept having strokes, and we didn’t know why. Sometimes he would have seizures because his brain had been damaged. My baby became trapped inside his own body, and I had no way of knowing if he was in pain. I held him every day and cried. I cried for hours, because I knew that he had already suffered more in his short life than I ever would. And just as he was approaching eighteen months old, he had his final stroke. It killed him.”

(Y/N) stopped and took a deep breath. She hadn’t talked about her baby in a long time, and it brought back all of the pain she had tried to keep contained within herself. Her words started to become unintelligible as she continued. “I miss him so much, but I feel like a terrible mother. Because I am glad that he finally escaped his pain, and his soul is free.”

Malcolm reached out and pulled her close. She clung to him, sobbing. This all made sense to him now. (Y/N) watched her son suffer, hoping he wasn’t in pain, and she was just exposed to a woman with no love for her baby at all. Nothing he could say would make this right. All he could do was hold her and wipe away her tears. And he was willing to do that for as long as it takes.

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Author’s Note: There was no place to fit this into the story, but I wanted to share what I thought of as I wrote this. After arresting the woman they found the motel room covered in vomit and multiple bottles of headache meds on the bedside table. During medical examination at the ER (she would have to be taken care of so she wouldn’t die in police custody) they found a big brain tumor. It affected her personality, making her angry, and made her capable of killing her child. This gave her the headaches, made her hearing super sensitive, and finally started to make her uncontrollably sick. She didn’t survive long enough to go to trial, but her lawyer would have pleaded insanity.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss: Show us the way to the Moxie, and then some!

Our crew finally made it into Lisbon, Maine, largely via I-95 coming off the I-495 bypass of Boston, eventually segueing into the Maine Turnpike ... Exit 80 thereof, thereat, even, eventually reaching Maine 196, the gateway into the celebration of Moxie otherwise known as the Moxie Festival, the direct cause of this Character Convocation (and then some), in line with established practice, no doubt. And during the Thursday-evening checkin, yours truly, Huckleberry Hound and my Laff-A-Lympics compadre, Mildew Wolf, couldn't resist as much sipping on that foundation of "the good life" to the New England mindset as munching on plates of Cabot cheese from neighbouring Vermont on pilot biscuits ... which, believe you me, can certainly take plenty of moxie in and of itself rivalled only by actually managing to taste Moxie for the first time.

Which, for a few like Penelope Pitstop, April Stewart, Tina from Goober and the Ghost Chasers and Pepper from Clue Club, was likely Diet Moxie, which some insist has a harsher taste because of the sugar alternatives used like sucralose or aspertame than the original. But yet again, the crazy thing about Moxie, as I understand it, is the gentian root as is at the heart of the very taste behind Moxie. Which, as someone explained it to me, is widely recommended for digestive and stomachic problems, nasal and sinus issues and for diabeetus ... but when it first came out in 1884, Moxie boasted that it

[c]ontains not a drop of Medicine, Poison, Stimulant or Alcohol. But is a simple sugarcane-like plant grown near the Equator and farther south, was lately accidentally discovered by Lieut. Moxie and has proved itself to be the only harmless nerve food known that can recover brain and nervous exhaustion, loss of manhood, imbecility and helplessness. It has recovered paralysis, softening of the brain, locomotor ataxia, and insanity when caused by nervous exhaustion. It gives a durable solid strength, makes you eat voraciously, takes away the tired, sleepy, listless feeling like magic, removes fatigue from mental and physical over work at once, will not interfere with action of vegetable medicines.

"Makes you eat voraciously," huh ... Yours truly kind of likes that one. And so, I understand, doth Norville "Shaggy" Rogers and a certain Scooby-Doo, particularly with a few bags of Cheez Kurls to accompany weekend overnight horror-film marathons, the campier such, the better. And with plenty of concessions and food trucks around the Moxie Festival site, with such a bold claim as that, I just have to wonder how many of us are going to have enhanced appetites because Moxie. Especially for the likes of the local skin-on hot dogs, known as "Maine Snappers" because of the "snap" encountered when one bites into the casing--and with the buns being cut across the top rather than on the side. (As well as running for the Moxie just to wash it all down; as I noted, Moxie has long been favoured for stomach ailments, though it's largely Urban Legend more than anything.)

*************

Heavens to Frank Archer, and his inviting you to visit Moxieland out Boston way back in the day: While I was not aware of any cookery contests involving the rather bizarre-tasting soda, I could just swear that, for one, Peter Potamus could be seen basting a boneless ham with Moxie in a slow cooker, planning to fix some sandwiches for later on. And Bristlehound, not to be outdone, adding some Moxie to a pot roast (try explaining that to Mildew Wolf, forever a thorn in Bristlehound's side) ... not to mention, for novelty's sake, Augie Doggie and Doggie Daddy offering Moxie ice-cream floats and the Hair Bear Bunch, not to be outdone, fixing some sloppy joes with a dash of Moxie ("for the flavour"). Some of the visitors, I understand, were initially bewildered by such displays of Moxie cuisine way beyond the canon of Moxie epitomised by the Moxie Bottle Wagons, the Moxie Horsemobiles, and all manner of campy merchandise and advertising, especially when Moxie was advertised as "the Two-Minute Vacation" back in the day.

Canon, it turns out, that was nearly compromised when Moxie decided to corner the sugar markets for the flavouring syrup just before the Great Depression, only to miscalculate rather badly ... and nearly compromised further with reformulations in 1947 and 1968 as put off its loyal New England base to such extent that Moxie actually had to return to the original 1884 formula (howbeit, since 1960, absent sassafras, now considered to cause cancer) ... oh, and did I mention where MAD Magazine slipped in the Moxie logo in the backgrounds of its toons in the early 1960's with an eye to reclaiming public awareness of the brand, with sales in the New York City area alone increasing by 10% in the bargain?  

As well as some of the cheesy advertising and ephemera for Moxie from "way back," no doubt attracting plenty of curiosity from the collectors' tables from quite a few of our Funtastic stable.

*************

One especially popular event at the Moxie Festival happens to be the Moxie Chugging Competition, which (officially) involves your standard 12-ounce can of Moxie, and trying to gulp it all down in competition against time without being put off by the taste. Yet for some reason, the idea among us Funtastics came about of trying to chug down one-litre bottles of the State Beverage of Maine, and seeing if the crowds would express disapproval, outrage even, at such stunts "not in the spirit of the Moxie canon."

The whole started, playfully enough, as a gag with The Banana Splits "themselves," the better to see who among them could seriously chug down the contents of a one-litre Moxie bottle fastest, and without discomfort (I hear it was Bingo who came up with the idea, silly as he can get). So, on Saturday afterlunch, in the middle of the carnival area for the Moxie Festival, all four of the Splits, plus Captain Caveman, Scooby-Doo, Big H and The King "himself"--and, for good measure, Yogi Bear--set upon the challenge with a one-litre bottle of Moxie. (The two-litre bottle was initially considered, but was rejected as probably being too much for many of us to stomach. Pun accidental.)

Still, it's not easy to expect to chug down a bottle of Moxie in one gulp, especially considering that the taste requires some serious acclimation; in coming up with this particular Convocation, yours truly purchased a case of six-pack Moxie cans from a Long Beach grocers' specialist in New England staples, and quenched his thirst galore with the concoction. Still, given the taste, you need to pace yourself.

(As if that weren't enough, I understand Top Cat and clowder acknowledged missing the old Moxie from back in Brooklyn, and how good such can taste with some grilled Italian sausage in the Brooklyn fashion.) (And returning to The Banana Splits for a moment, Snorky came up with a rather imaginative approach to using his trunk to grasp the bottle.)

By the time it was all over, replete with dumb looks from festival goers as much as requests for selfies holding cans and/or bottles of Moxie--you probably wouldn't have been interested. But what was interesting was that even the Skatebirds, the Cattanooga Cats and the Bungle Brothers couldn't resist the shaved-ham-in-Moxie sandwiches from Peter Potamus, rather generously stacked. And Sis and Honey, on their pop-up shortwave radio station's Saturday broadcast, raving (over Diet Moxie, no doubt) over Bristlehound giving pot roast a new twist of flavour with as much garlic and herbs as Moxie ("even the gravy had that irresistably Down East tang of gentian root extract," as Sis effused).

*************

One thing as was not worth forgetting about was encouraging the Funtastics in attendance to make sure they stocked up on a case or two of Moxie to head back home to, considering that Moxie (and Diet Moxie, let's not forget about them) isn't that easy to find in stores outside the New England region. As well as a case "for the road," in the bargain--not to mention a case of "Maine snapper" hot dogs (packed in dry ice, at any rate) and a bag or two of Humpty Dumpty Potato Chips, another Old Dirigo snacktime staple. Yet even then, Huck and I had to wonder whether it was going to be easy for many such to head back with so much Moxie WITHOUT causing a lot of axle strain in the bargain, evident only when it would be least expected. (One likely exception: The Cattanooga Cats, who decided to get only a couple cases of Moxie considering their impartiality to RC Cola and Moon Pies in classic Southern mindset.)

Even as it was just winding down, yours truly had to admit that Moxie was a bit wicked-tasting ... even as the next adventures await. Likely via the Minnesota State Fair, again. Exit, stage right ...

[stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove]

Some of us are Human - Motel 66 and The BHHS School Bus-Part 2 (Chapter 14)

Author: what_the_hell_is_a_stiles826

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Malia Tate/Hale, Issac Lahey, Liam Dunbar, Hayden Romero, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin, Jordan Parrish, Coach Bobby Finstock, Derek Hale, Blaze, Jessica Eastman and Reader.

Plus some BONUS characters seen in hallucinations: Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes, Allison Argent, The Nogitsune and Void Stiles.

Summary: After Liam becomes the Jinn’s newest target, the group follows him onto the school bus to a lacrosse meet in San Diego when things turn complicated and they are forced to, once again, stay at a motel and be terrorized some more. 

Note: I wanted these next two chapters to feel like a throw back or tribute or something for the episodes ‘Frayed’ as well as ‘Motel California’ which is one of my absolute favorite Teen Wolf episodes! This is PART 2.

Warning: Cursing, violence, light SMUT. 

Chapter Fourteen - Chapter Fifteen

Several of you had fallen asleep on the bus, waiting. It was dark out and getting a little chilly. Suddenly, Coach climbed back inside the bus with a displeased look spread onto his face. 

“As I’m sure you might have guessed, the meet has been canceled.” Coach whined. “Luckily, the Motel 66 across the street has agreed to take us all in for the night.” He paused at the yawning faces and tired eyes sitting before him. “So let’s go, people!” He hollered, waking the rest of the group. You all slowly made your way off the school bus and waited for your room key that he proceeded to hand out. “Once again, keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves! Not that I’ll care enough to watch anyone, goodnight.” Coach finished, raising his own personal room key and leaving the parking lot. 

____

Upon finishing brushing your teeth with your finger and some crappy complimentary tooth paste, you walked back into the boring, simply decorated Motel room. Two beds, white sheets and a small end table between the two with a lamp that reminded you of one your grandma had as a kid. A knock on the door suddenly caught your attention and when you looked through the peep hole, you weren’t disappointed by who was on the other side. Stiles. You bit your lip and opened the door for your boyfriend.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You asked, kindly.

“Please. Like I’m actually bunking with Scott.” He scoffed. You giggled.

“Malia kicked you out?” You questioned.

“Yeah.” He replied with a shrug. He closed the door behind him and walked closer to the front of you. He placed his hands on each of your hips, sweetly. “I’d rather be with you anyway, though.” He still reassured you. You smiled and let him lean in to place a long and passionate kiss against your soft lips.

“Yeah, I guess one good thing came of Liam being the Jinn’s newest target.” You admitted. He hummed. “Now we have a Motel room all to ourselves.” You hinted. “All night long.” You bit your lip some more. He quirked up an eyebrow and smirked.

“Oh.” He said in a flirty voice.

You stood up on your tippy toes and collided your soft, glossy lips against his smooth ones. You welcomed his tongue into your mouth as he ran his hand through your hair and rested it on the nape of your neck. The perfect kiss broke, but you kept your face close enough to have your nose still grazing his. He stared into your eyes and excitedly waited for what came next. You slowly slid your hands down to his waist, then ran your fingers underneath his sweater. You began raising it higher and higher, pulling it over his perfectly gelled hair. You studied his chest, taking note of each mole. He smiled at you, pushing you to walk backwards and laying your anxious, trembling body onto the nearest bed. He smiled down at you, kissing your neck and running his lips gently up to your ear. You moaned and it woke something in him. Something that needed you right that instant. He pulled off your T-shirt, kissing your hipbones one at a time. Then he stood, pulling down his jeans and kicking off his sneakers as you raised up your hind end enough to remove your remaining clothing as well. You pulled his warmth onto your bare chest, kissing him and rubbing your delicate hands down the back of his neck, then tracing his spine. For the second time and just as smooth and gentle as the first, he slid his length deep inside you with a moan that only made you desire him more. 

Nearly two hours had past in peaceful love making. No interruptions, no murders, no bad dreams. You wished it could be like this forever. So did Stiles. He laid next to you, his naked body still entangled in yours. You smiled and he rolled over to lay next to you with a happy sigh. You cuddled up to his chest, burying your face in between his pecks and he rested his chin on the top of your head. You reveled in the moment, not ready to let go of it yet. Not ready to get back to reality. 

___

Night fell darker, shadows from the trees blowing in a light breeze entered the Motel room with a streak of light from a singular light pole in the parking lot. Issac laid on the bed closest to the window that let those shadows inside. He faced away from Liam, who laid on the second bed. He was sprawled out and fast asleep. An attached door joined their room with Scott and Malia’s, who both were asleep as well. Issac thought about Allison and wondered if she were still alive, if she’d be in there with him instead of Liam. His chest ached for that to be true until he finally dozed off, not a peep coming from Liam. 

Not yet. 

Liam breathed heavily in his sleep, this time he knew he was dreaming. He couldn't wake himself. Sleep paralysis. 

His long, sharp claws slashed at Hayden. She screamed, crying into his golden eyes that began to turn a piercing blue. He rose up, looking at himself in a body length mirror. A bear skull covered his face, only his bright blue eyes peering through it and Hayden’s motionless body at his feet. He was an animal; a Berserker. He’d really lost all control now. He roared and growled, thrashing around his bed. 

Issac woke to the sounds of his turning neighbor, jumped out of bed and ran to his aid. He couldn’t get too close, not without Liam’s out of control werewolf body tearing him apart. 

“Liam!” Issac hollered. Liam heard him, but still couldn’t wake himself. Issac noticed him shifting back to human and tears pouring down his cheek. “Liam!” He hollered again as Scott ran into the room, having been woken up by all the screaming next door. Scott looked to Issac, who stood truly terrified.

“Liam!” Scott growled, it echoed through out the room. It shook the walls and Liam sat forward, his eyes whipping open to the booming sound of his Alpha calling his name. He looked around, startled. Malia joined the room slowly, worry apparent on her tired face. Liam placed his hand against his forehead and lowered his head in shame, trying to catch his breath. Scott moved forward and sat on the bed next to his scared Beta. “Are you okay?” Scott asked.

“Hayden. We need to check on Hayden.” Liam spoke, his voice shaky. 

“What?” Issac asked. 

“I was...” He trailed off. “Can we just make sure she’s okay?” Liam cried.

“You never left this room, I know that for a fact.” Issac tried to reassure him. Liam pulled out his phone to call her, when Scott placed his hand on Liam’s shaking fingers. 

“I’ll go get her. Stay here.” Scott told him, as he sat up and exited the room to wake up Hayden and bring her to see Liam. 

____

Meanwhile, back in Derek’s apartment, he laid asleep in his giant bed that sat in the corner of the large, open room beside Braeden. It had been another long day of trying to track down Blaze with the help of Argent and Peter. Turns out, Witches are really good at covering their tracks. Jessica’s hardening body still sat in the large safe in the center of the room. She was nearly unconscious now, her body too weak to move or make sound. A blue ghostly figure, the Jinn, entered the apartment as Derek shifted in his sleep. The safe door quietly and slowly opened up and the Jinn snatched up Jessica and vanished, just as Blaze asked of it. 

In Blaze’s cabin, he stood near his fireplace. His eyes were closed and he was talking to the Jinn inside his head while his hands rested on the mantle. 

“You will take Jessica from Derek’s apartment. It is what I wish from you.” He began his demands. “Oh and once you are finished with that, why don’t you pay some our other friends a visit as well. Make them miserable, it is what I wish from you.” He told the Jinn, who disappeared instantly and he opened his eyes with a creepy grin. He needed them all distracted so he could follow through with his plans. 

Jessica woke up in the living room of Blaze’s cabin, to him dripping human blood into her mouth from a donor bag. She gripped onto the bag of blood, sucking it’s entire contents into her mouth viciously. 

“I need more.” Jessica told him, it was her only concern for the time being. Blaze happily retrieved her more, as he needed her strong and level headed. 

____

You and Stiles stood outside Liam and Issac’s room as Malia filled you in on the evenings events. 

“How do we fight against something that attacks us in our dreams?” Stiles whined, biting his fingernails. You tapped the staircase behind you, lost in thought. 

“We stay awake.” You told him. He lowered his hands and deadpanned you.

“How are we supposed to do that?” He asked you.

“Well, I can think of one way.” You winked. Malia closed her eyes, not wanting to hear any more. 

“Okay, that’s my cue. Stay close by.” Malia told them as she entered back into the room with Issac and Liam. Stiles awkwardly looked around as you walked away, heading back to your room. He then hurried after you.

Inside their room, Malia plopped down on Issac’s bed next to him. They both watched Liam, who sat staring at the patterned carpet below him. Scott then opened the door and Hayden entered before him, running to Liam. He leaned into her, holding her tight as she wrapped her arms around his nervous body. 

“I’m so glad you are okay.” Liam told her, brushing her hair from her face. She smiled at him. 

“You’d never hurt me for real.” Hayden spoke, confidently. Scott closed the door behind him. Malia stood up and walked closer to her boyfriend as she began explaining your plan.

“Y/n said we should try to stay awake.” Malia told him. 

“But it can still get into our heads when we’re awake.” Scott furrowed his brow. Issac thought a moment, realizing how little sleep he’s gotten lately has effected his dreams. 

“Yeah, but we are more vulnerable when we sleep. Plus, we can look out for each other better.” Issac proposed. Scott nodded and Malia sighed. 

“So, it’s going to be a long night.” Malia stated.

___

You and Stiles continued walking back to your room. He caught up to you, ready to tackle you onto your bed once his feet reached the Motel room floor. Suddenly, you heard something. Something that made your blood run ice cold. Something that caused you to freeze in place. Her voice. Stiles stopped walking and stared over at you.

“Y/f/i?” He asked. You didn’t budge. The Jinn, it was in your head.

Her boots clanked against the metal grate below your feet as she approached.

“Y/n...” She whispered your name again, sending chills down your spine. The Oni, marched in behind her. She raised her arrow up to aim at your chest. The Oni chirped and you turned to run, when you saw him. Stiles. Only it wasn’t him, not anymore. His eyes were once again surrounded by dark circles, his skin pale.

“Remember me?” Void Stiles asked with a grin. You turned back to Allison, who walked closer to you.

“You think you can take my place?” She hollered at you. “You have my bow, my father’s love but you will never be good enough for any of them!” She screamed at you as tears began to surface in your eyes.

“Al.” You whimpered. Void Stiles walked around you and stood next to Allison along side the Oni.

“I died for all of you and this is how you repay me?” She screamed at you, the Nogitsune chuckled. He fed off her anger, off her strife and pain. You tried to turn and run away, but something was stopping you. Like an invisible brick wall, you couldn’t get through.

In reality, it was Stiles’s body grabbing your screaming one. He tried to wake you, he knew it was after you now. He didn’t know what it was showing you, but he’d never seen you so afraid.

“Y/n!” He cried, holding your arms as you hurled your body into him, trying to get away. “It’s okay, Y/n. Whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real. Come back to me!” He held you closer. He wanted to end your pain, but nothing was working.

Allison let an arrow fly, it grazed your cheek, creating a very real and large cut across your face. 

Stiles watched it form from nothing, he shook you. Terrified, because maybe he was wrong. It was obviously real enough to do actual damage to you. You screamed louder, throwing your body backwards and away from Stiles but finally opening your eyes. You raised your finger and stopped a drop of blood from falling down your cheek. Stiles and you made eye contact, both of you breathing heavily and concerned by the horrifying event that just took place. And you weren’t even sleeping. He walked forward and hugged you as you cried into him, defeated. “Time for plan B?” He asked you. 

“There is no plan B. Not if it can hurt us for real. I don’t know-” Your voice cracked. He held you close as you cried. Holding the back of your head and putting his detective mind back to work. 

An hour passed and you and Stiles had made your way back into Issac and Liam’s room with everyone else. You all wanted to be together, keep an eye on each other. Issac stood after a few agonizing moments of silence.

“Well, if we’re all bunking in here we’re probably going to need more towels.” He stated, leaving the room to fetch some. Stiles sat next to you on one of the beds, his hand rubbing your knee.

“You okay?” He asked. You nodded quietly. “You want some water?” He comforted. You smiled and nodded again. He walked over to the small table near the mini fridge. The pitcher of water was turning warm. He spun to face you. “I’ll go get some more ice real quick.” He told all of you. You watched him turn the handle of the door.

“Stiles.” You stood. He turned, his hand still resting on the door nob. “Be careful.” You reminded him. He smiled and proceeded out the door. Scott came and sat next to you while Malia sighed out of boredom.

“I wonder if there’s anything good on TV at this time.” She bellowed as she reached for the remote on the shared nightstand between the beds. Scott turned to you, knowing exactly what you were feeling having had similar nightmares about Allison.

“You have to tell yourself it’s all in your head. She’d be proud of us.” He told you. You smiled up at him.

“I know.” You replied simply.

___

Issac walked down the Motel hallway, heading for the front desk. He spotted it, deserted and quiet but with the main light still on. 

“Hello?” He asked, waiting for someone to help him. He looked around at the still Motel, no one in sight. He proceeded back down the hallway he came from. “Hello?” He spoke again, a little louder. “I just need some towels.” He said, rounding the corner. Silence. Suddenly, he came up to a room that had it’s door wide open. It was bright and hard to see inside. Issac’s curiosity got the best of him after spotting a janitor’s cart full of clean towels sitting near the bright door. He approached it quickly, planning to grab some towels and ignore the strange lit up room. But then, he heard an old friend’s voice. 

“Issac.” It said, fear in his voice. Boyd. Issac gulped before walking inside.

Suddenly, he was thrown back inside the bank where Boyd and Erica had been held captive by Deucalion and the Alpha’s all that time ago before his memory was wiped. He was back there and looking for them. “Issac!” Boyd yelled again, louder. Issac ran for him, wanting to help once again. He spotted him, standing in the middle of the vault. Issac smiled, happy to see his old friend when he was suddenly thrown backwards, landing in the maintenance closet. The door slammed shut in front of him and his claustrophobia set in immediately as he stood back up and ran for the door. 

“Hey! Hello?” He cried, banging on the door. “Boyd?” He asked. 

“You failed us.” Boyd whispered from behind Issac, inside the closet. Issac spun around in terror, rubbing his eyes. 

“Boyd? How did you?...” He trailed off at the sight of Erica’s decomposing corpse sitting against the wall. He turned away, looking back to Boyd. 

“No.” He cried, closing his eyes. 

Issac was sitting in the middle of the Motel hallway floor, rocking back and forth with his eyes closed, reliving the terror from that day over and over again. 

While Stiles approached the ice machine outside the main Motel door. He was scooping ice into the bucket when he suddenly got one scoop that was completely covered in blood. It dripped down his arm and he fearfully threw the scoop down and stepped back. He swallowed, telling himself it was all in his head. He took a deep breath and returned to the ice, taking another scoop that cleared a spot for him to see dark hair peering through. Something told him it was Allison’s. He turned away from the ice bin and tried to slow his breathing, his eyes closed. Then he heard his voice. 

“Are you ready for your next kill, Stiles?” The Nogitsune appeared, creepily walking around the staircase. Stiles body shook at the voice that haunted his past. “I told you, we aren’t finished.” He yelled, Stiles feeling the air from his mouth full of metal fangs against his face. His breath smelled like death. But he opened his eyes to see himself staring back. That version of himself; Void Stiles. He tilted his head in surprise and wonder as Void Stiles copied his every move like a mirror. His father appeared in the distance, his gun raised. 

“Dad?” Stiles asked. Void Stiles turning to see as well with a grin.

“You are not my son.” He spoke firmly, walking closer. He placed his gun to Stiles head as a tear streamed down his face. 

And Stiles waited. Waited to die, waited to wake up, waited to be saved. He wasn’t sure. But those three special words popped into his mind along with your face in that moment. He tried to put all his focus onto that; onto you. 

___

Back in the room, you grew worried at how long it was taking your boyfriend to get ice. You knew you should have gone with him. You opened the door, seeing Stiles scared stiff and facing away from you. 

“Stiles!” You yelled. He didn’t move. You ran in front of him, his eyes closed and his whole body shaking in fear. “Stiles, please!” You yelled. 

Stiles heard your voice inside his head, Sheriff Stilinski began to lower his gun by the sound of it and Stiles turned to run to you when...

BANG.

While in reality you watched Stiles open his eyes and slowly turn to you, looking down and holding his side in shock. There was blood, a lot of blood. “No!” You screamed as he fell to the ground in front of you, blood pouring from his side. 

“Stiles, Stiles. Stay with me!” You caught his head as he fell. “Scott!” You screamed. Scott and Malia came running out to see you holding Stiles body, blood on his shirt. Scott ran over and lifted his best friends shirt, searching for the wound. It was a scratch. A deep scratch, but no bullet hole in sight. You lowered your head, finally taking a breath as Stiles looked up to you and cupped your face. “It wasn’t real.” You told him. He nodded, unsure how you both could be tricked into seeing the same thing. The Jinn was getting stronger. There was no doubt about that. “I’m sick of this! I can’t do it anymore!” You cried as Scott helped Stiles back to his feet. He hugged you, only a slight sting coming from his cut side as he held you. 

“I know.” Scott agreed. 

“So, what do we do?” You screeched. Stiles rubbed your back. 

“I don’t know!” Scott hollered, frustrated. Malia turned back to the room and then back to all of you. 

“Guys.” She began. You all turned to face her. “Issac hasn’t come back yet.” She noticed. You all bolted back inside and out to the main hallway. 

“Issac!” Scott yelled. 

“Issac!” You joined in, walking the opposite way. 

“Over here!” Stiles yelled, pointing to where he still sat in the middle of the floor. You ran to him, grabbing his scared face. 

“Issac, come on. Please. I, wake up.” You shook him. Then you turned to face your friends, who stood behind you. “We have to wake him up before he get’s hurt for real.” You told them.

“Heat.” Stiles spoke. Everyone looked to him. “Remember? It’s what worked last time when the Darach was in our heads.” He finished. Malia quickly pulled a lighter from her coat pocket and placed it against Issac’s arm.

“Ow!” Issac jumped up, knocking you over in the process. You took a breath, relieved once again. “Sorry.” Issac told you.

You, Scott, Stiles, Issac and Malia eventually all entered back into the room where Liam and Hayden still sat on the bed talking and taking comfort in each other.

“Is everyone okay?” Liam asked at the sight of all of you.

“Yeah.” Stiles said. “But from now on, buddy system.” He pointed around. Everyone nodded in agreement. You felt maybe you could survive the night now that you once again had heat on your side. You should’ve remembered that sooner. You took turns sleeping with at least one person on watch with Malia’s lighter. And morning couldn’t have come soon enough.

___

The following morning in Los Angeles, Lydia and Parrish prepared for their task of removing part of Theo’s revived soul. He sat in a chair in his fancy LA home, waiting for his impending doom. Lydia pulled the large needle from her bag, ready to remove the cap as Parrish held Theo in place. 

“Wait.” Theo threw a hand up. “Can’t we at least get breakfast first? I’m starving.” He whined. Lydia rolled her eyes and removed the clear cap. 

“After.” She told him. She studied his neck as he nervously licked his lips. Parrish placed a hand on each of Theo’s shoulders, ready to hold him down. Lydia traced the exact spot Deaton had shown her and prepared to go for that spot. “This is going to hurt.” She told him, tilting her head. 

“Bring it on already.” Theo stated. Lydia then plunged the needle into his neck at those words and he slightly jumped. “That wasn’t so bad.” Theo opened his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s not the painful part.” Lydia corrected him. She put both hands on the syringe and began to pull a glowing white substance from his neck as she moved the syringe back. He yelled in pain as she extracted what she needed. “It’s working!” She told him.

Several minutes passed and she only had the syringe half full. 

“Damn it, hurry up!” Theo screamed in pain. Lydia tried to go faster, her hands growing painful at each pull. “This better work!” He hollered some more. Finally, Lydia reached the end of the syringe and quickly pulled the needle from his neck, catching the drop of blood that tried to escape with a tissue. She then removed it to see the mark had already healed. Parrish let go and Theo tried to catch his breath. 

“I got it.” Lydia proudly stated. Parrish smiled and Theo stared at the glowing piece of his soul, a little stunned. 

____

Back on the bus that was finally running, Coach counted once again to make sure all of his players (plus some) were on board. You all leaned back in your seats, exhausted from the nights terrors. You never wanted to stay in a Motel ever again. Although, you knew this could’ve happened anywhere. You had stopped at the mini mart attached to the rest area across the street to buy everyone a lighter for safe keeping. You all had one safely in a pocket, prepared to continue keeping an eye on each other.

“Alright, you hooligans!” Coach hollered. “Let’s go home.” He said, taking a seat as the bus driver pulled away from Motel 66 with you and all your friends safely inside. 

___

This was so much fun to write! I hope I did an okay job. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading! 

@seninjakitey

<<Chapter 13, >>Chapter 15

[silverphanblood]

Suicide in Narnia

Word count: 1,719

Warnings: Hallucinations, delusions, unreality, loss of control, mention of unintentional assault, near death experience

Summary: Recently, Phil has had a lot on his mind. But when he gets trapped inside his own mind - these doubts completely consuming him - how will Dan react to the danger he causes? 

🌸 Phil bolted upright. He inspected every inch of his body - rotating his ankles, stretching his arms, circling his head - ensuring he had regained control. He glanced towards his clock which dimly displayed a “1:30”, he had hoped Dan was awake, it was no surprise when he heard the floorboards creak from his usual pacing.

🌸 Knocking before entering, dazed and confused, Phil sat down beside his ruffle haired boyfriend. After a few silenced stumbles he placed his broad but cold hands on Dan’s thighs. “Dan?” He finally managed to splutter. Dan raised an eyebrow before looking the panicked boy in the eyes. “Yes, baby?” swiftly followed by a concerned “is everything okay?”. But everything was far from okay. Recently, Phil had been experiencing delusions as if he were trapped in his own mind. Sometimes he would even lose a complete sense of feeling, incomparable to how one would experience sleep paralysis.

🌸 “Phil that’s ridiculous! You’re just tired, go to sleep.” Kissing Phil gently on the cheek, he edged him towards the door. “I love you,” he said softly; Phil did not answer. Instead, he wiped away the developing tears and clumsily walked back into the bedroom.

🌸 It was now Saturday morning, the birds were tweeting and Phil was back to his chirpy self: today was the day. Phil bounced into the living room; Dan was already awake, well, if he had slept at all. “So I was thinking we could go get ice cream or something today?” Phil looked at the obstinate man in the eye pleadingly. “Fine” he replied with a disinclined demeanor.

🌸 By the time Dan and Phil had gotten anywhere near the ice cream parlour (being stopped by fans and Phil attempting to feed every pigeon he saw obviously was not quite the catalyst Dan had hoped for) it was noon. Phil could see the irritated look of boredom in his boyfriend’s eyes and quickly reassured him that it was just across the road. The dazzling pink neon sign caught Dan’s attention. Pretty pastel props allured him closer to the well deserved destination, despite the busy road that separated the two. He inched closer, unable to mute his more than satisfying craving for what was only a few feet ahead. In hindsight, he wasn’t the only one.

🌸 However, the screeching of tires only a few centimetres away from Phil was enough to bring sheer panic (which was most definitely an understatement) to the previously carefree, content man. But it didn’t do the same for Phil. There was a complete pandemonium as mass hysteria surged through Dan’s body to his head. Staring in shock, he didn’t move. Everything happened in slow motion: angry people pushing each other out of the way; muffled yelling of displeased drivers; and overwhelming bursts of confusion about Phil. Phil? PHIL!

🌸 Dan attempted to grab his lover to prevent any further harm, almost too abruptly, causing his body to jerk forward and ungracefully collide with the man in front of him. He collected his long inconvenience of a body and proceeded to move Phil away from the road and onto a nearby bench shielded by an eyesore of a commercial parasol. Placing a reassuring hand on Phil’s shoulder, Dan started to tear up shortly accompanied by a face heavily painted with perplexity. “Phil?” he choked, trying to contain his fear. Hardly moving, Phil responded with a panicked “Dan? Wh- where are you?” taking short breathy pauses between each syllable. He didn’t know how to respond. “I’m.. right here? We’re sat near the ice cream parlour?” “Dan? I can’t see the ice cream parlour!” Unintentionally sarcastic, Dan replied with  “What do you mean you can’t SEE the parlour? Did your contacts fall out again? Look Phil, you didn’t need to stop in the freaking road for goodness sake!” raising his voice enough to gain unwanted attention from passers by. “Dan?” His voice was becoming more alarmed by the second. It was then when Dan realised what was going on.

🌸 Phil stood still, staring at the eternal winter that covered the world like a blanket of white. So white, it was almost artificial. There was no sight of Dan, yet he could hear him like a booming over-worldly God. “I’m going to take you home, I need you to co-operate, okay?” He looked around frantically, but the voice seemed to come from every direction. He felt a firm hand grip onto his arm, pulling him out of the heap of cold crystallised confetti. Shortly following his resistance to the unknown force, another combination of sounds in the form of words fell from the sky: “Phil, trust me”. 

🌸 He had lost control of his legs, every time he attempted to walk in the opposite direction it was quickly trailed with a stern “Phil! I’m trying to guide you home. Will you please stop!” from Dan who was rapidly becoming annoyed at his confused companion. As he apparently had no say in where he could walk, Phil decided to put up with the chilly wind that was as bitter as sucked lemons and take a good look at his surroundings in case he needed to find his way back to the barely lit lamppost faintly flickering in the distance.

🌸 Trying his hardest to let Dan have absolute authority over his actions, he reached out in front of him to grasp a beautiful blossom poking out from beneath the snow. The winter winds were a stinging, icy slap in the face; however, this was a real slap because the blossoms were not. Phil was bombarded with several provoked yells and shrieks from invisible citizens. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “You’re sick in the head” “Get that man away from my children!”. Instantaneously, he began to cry.

🌸 Dan cradled Phil into a soft embrace and politely told the woman what was going on, as best to his understanding, hoping she’d understand too. Instead she just scowled and walked away, muttering violent words venomously under her breath. Why did this have to happen now? Dan sighed as he looked over to his boyfriend, unsure of what to do. Medical help? Leave it to fade away? He had to choose quickly. In a moment of panic, he decided to take Phil home. Well, that was until Phil broke free of Dan’s arms and began to run.

🌸 Meanwhile, Phil stood still, feeling Dan’s reassuring heart beating as the tears were gently wiped away from his pale and distraught face. As he was helplessly guided away, the hostile voices trailed into soft murmurs. Phil focused on the crunching snow beneath his heavy body, setting each foot down cautiously as his vision was becoming more distorted by the second. The white wonderland was viciously disrupted by a burst of bright colour. He wanted to look away, he wanted to go back the way he came but was quickly edged forward by an agitated Dan “come on Phil, you can’t just stop in the middle of the street! I’m taking you home, remember?” he spat, slightly more aggressive than he had intended.

🌸 A few more steps and Phil was standing in an open meadow, surrounded by harshly iced signs. Reaching out but quickly recoiling his arm, he approached the first signpost: “One Way” it read. How unusually misplaced. The next displayed a large “No Exit” boldly in red. Phil continued to inspect each one, his heart pounding on his chest harder than Dan’s which was increasing with apprehension. A wave of dizziness struck Phil in the head, causing the signs to circle around him. Spinning, he continued to decipher each one. “Married” “Kids” “Happiness”. They began to spin faster, ensuring he could only see the most important of the signs. “Life” “One Way” “Growth” “Death” “Time” “STOP”.

🌸 Phil Lester was 30, an internet sensation that fell in love with his best friend. He was happy, he adored Dan; although he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would’ve been like if he hadn’t started YouTube in the first place. Married? Kids? Happier? As much as he wished it had never crossed his mind, the racing thoughts still persisted to attack him. The man became jittery, resembling a very tall human jellyfish. “Phil? What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Usually the soft sound of his boyfriend’s voice was soothing but today is was quite the opposite. He choked on an ashamed response, he couldn’t tell Dan this. So he had to run.

🌸 The familiar screams of cars changing lanes to avoid hitting the loose mad man haunted Dan’s brain. At first he thought he was just reliving the terrifying past few minutes but it was very real just like the pain as a black taxi struck the side of Phil.

🌸 Phil bolted upright. He inspected very inch of is body: rotating his stiff ankles, stretching his bloody arm (only to be stopped by the tight grip of something holding him down), craning his pounding head and catching a glimpse of his red-eyed boyfriend who was in a state of complete distress. He tried to sit up slightly but was quickly pushed down by a blurred figure in pine green. “Careful. You’re in an ambulance, we’re taking you to the hospital” they hushed, making their way into the front seat before eventually taking off.

🌸 Only seconds later, his cold hands were clasped tightly to the sweaty palms of the wreck that accompanied him. At that moment, nothing mattered. The sweet sensation of Dan’s lips against his brutally destroyed all of his doubts. As best as he could (the ambulance bed being quite restricting of course) he reached into the pocket of his skinny jeans and yanked out a black box. “Today didn’t go exactly as I planned” he laughed, opening the velvet box to display a handcrafted ring that sparkled beneath the bright white medical light. “Dan?” He slid the ring out of the box only then realising he couldn’t reach where Dan was now sitting. “This is neither the time nor place that I had hoped to ask you this,” with tears of happiness beginning to glide down Dan’s face, Phil worked up the courage and asked “will you marry me?”.

[thatcrazyfanfictionwriter]

Secret of the Sewers: Sins of our Father

Raph stood in the center of the living room, holding the remote to the television high above his head as he flipped through the channels. Dancing around him, jumping futilely to reach the remote, was Mikey, whining with every failed grab.

“C’mon, Raph.” he moaned as Raph once more eluded Mikey’s sneaky hands. “You know Mega Monkeys III is on. I’ve been wanting to see it for weeks!”

“Forget it Mikey.” Raph replied. “The Wrestle Mania championship is on tonight, and I ain’t missing it.”

Mikey groaned, then an idea struck him. He turned around, making like he was giving up, then he spun back around with one of his Nunchucks in his hand. The end of the weapon collided with the remote, sending it flying out of Raph’s hand and into Mikey’s grasp.

“Cowabunga!” he cheered, plopping on the couch. “Mega Monkey time!”

He went to change the channel, but it remained on the wrestling station. His eyebrows furrowed as he pressed the button a few more times.

“Donny, the remote’s broken!” Mikey shouted.

“It’s not broken, Mikey.” Donny replied from his lab, his eyes never leaving his latest project. “Just check the batteries.”

Mikey flipped the remote over to do just that, only to find that the batteries were gone. He glanced up at Raph, who was tossing the batteries in his hand while grinning at the orange turtle.

“Too easy.” the red turtle chuckled.

In a blur of motion, Mikey tackled Raph to the ground and tried desperately to get the remote batteries. Donny sighed, grabbing a pair of headphones and sliding them over his ears before resuming his work. From the couch, both Leo and Hisako shook their heads as they watched their two brothers wrestle like children.

“17 years of ninja training, and it all goes out the window when it comes to who gets the TV remote.” Leo said with a sigh.

“And when it comes down to who gets to drive.” Hisako added.

Leo nodded slightly in acknowledgement as Splinter walked into the living room. He glanced around at his children, a wistful smile on his face at Raph and Mikey’s juvenile brawl. That’s when he noticed that one of his children was missing.

“Where is Miwa?” Splinter asked.

“She said she was going out to get groceries.” Leo informed him. “Mikey used the last of our supplies on dinner tonight.”

“Wish I had gone with her.” Hisako lamented. “Between you and me, I have no interest in wrestling, or Mikey’s weird monkey movie.”

Splinter nodded at this, his attention returning to Raph and Mikey. He quickly used his tail to knock the battery out of Raph’s hand, tossing them in the air. When the two turtles immediately went to grab for them, Splinter struck a nerve under both their necks, causing them to freeze up and fall on the ground in a twitching mass. With the two turtles out of commission, Splinter was able to pluck the remote out of Mikey’s hand, replacing the batteries with ease. With the remote in one piece once again, the rat took a seat on the couch and turned the TV to a soap opera that was starting.

“Then perhaps you would like to join me for my stories?” Splinter offered.

Hisako grinned, then moved over to the couch and rested her head on Splinter’s shoulder. Leo looked down at Mikey and Raph, tsking as he joined his sensei and sister on the couch.

…

Miwa put the last of the groceries into the back of the Shellraiser, taking a deep breath as she did. Buying enough food for seven people was a chore in and of itself, but when five of those seven were teenagers, and four of those five were boys, it became an arduous task. She was wishing she had asked Hisako to come with her. Telekinesis would have been incredibly useful for this trip.

“Hopefully this lasts us longer than a week.” she muttered to herself, surveying the large collection of groceries in the back.

She closed the doors to the Shellraiser, then turned towards the driver’s side door to begin her journey home. Unbeknownst to her, a lone ninja dressed in traditional garbs stood on top of an adjacent building. Said ninja notched an arrow back, aiming it right at Miwa’s head before releasing it.

In the split second the arrow was released, Miwa spun on her heels, catching the arrow right before it struck her. Brushing off the sudden shock of being shot at, she noticed some kind of paper attached to the arrow.

“Well, it’s not your usual mail.” she remarked as she untied the string keeping it attached to the arrow. “If Mikey was here, he’d call it ‘air mail’.”

She opened the note, seeing it written in Japanese kanji. She skimmed the contents, then her face grew pale as her hands began to shake.

“Oh no...” she gulped.

Looking around to make sure nobody was around, Miwa shoved the note into her hoodie pocket before practically diving into the Shellraiser.

…

Mikey and Raph had shaken off the last of the paralysis caused by Splinter’s nerve jabs and had joined their family in watching TV. Even Donny had brought his project, some tune-ups to his mechanical bo-staff, into the living room as well.

Eventually, they heard the unmistakable sound of the elevator opening, allowing Miwa access into the lair. She had an old, beaten up wagon with her, loaded up with all of the groceries she had gathered. It was something Donny had constructed in order to make bringing in the obscene number of bags easier.

Splinter turned to greet her, then noticed her face was a mask of barely contained terror. His mood fell as he saw this.

“Miwa, what is it?” Splinter asked. “What’s wrong?”

Hearing their sensei’s distress, the rest of the Hamato siblings turned, converging on Miwa as Splinter approached as well. Her hands were shaking as she slowly held up the arrow she’d caught, showing it to her father. Splinter took the arrow, immediately recognizing the craftsmanship.

“Is that…” he began to ask.

Miwa nodded once, then reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out the note. Splinter took it as well, his paws shaking as he read it. Leo looked over his sensei’s shoulder, reading it aloud for his siblings.

“Oroku Karai, we have heard about the defeat of your father, Oroku Saki. The Foot High Council demands your immediate presence. You will come to the Shredder’s previous headquarters by midnight tonight. Failure to appear will be seen as an act of treason and will be dealt with accordingly.”

“The Foot High Council has come to New York?” Splinter let out, lowering the note.

“It would appear so...” Miwa whispered, obviously scared at the very idea. “If they know about Shredder’s defeat, then they probably know about you, the turtles and Hisako, and possibly...”

“You.” Splinter finished.

“Or at the very least your betrayal.” Leo amended.

“Who are the Foot High Council anyway?” Mikey asked.

“Don’t you remember Sensei’s story about his past?” Hisako retorted. “The Foot High Council is the head honchos of the entire Foot Clan. The Grand Masters that watch over all of the Foot’s operations.”

“And if these guys were the bosses of the Shredder…” Leo pieced together.

“They’re twice as tough as him, and there are five of them.” Miwa supplied.

“Five Shredders?!” Raph let out. “We could barely handle one Shredder.”

“Yeah, it took Hisako dropping a water tower on him.” Donny agreed.

“Maybe we could do the same here?” Mikey suggested. “Just a thought.”

Splinter’s walking stick came down hard on the floor, the rat’s way of getting his children’s attention.

“No!” Splinter demanded. “You are not to go anywhere near the council. They are powerful and dangerous. You may have bested Oroku Saki, but these five are not to be trifled with. Ever!”

“But father!” Miwa exclaimed. “I cannot ignore their summons. If I do, they will hunt me down until they find me, and then they’ll kill me and all whom I’m associated with!”

“Damn, that does not sound like the council from Master Splinter’s story.” Raph let out.

“The latest generation is ruthless and unforgiving.” Miwa clarified. “That’s why I have to go.”

“Miwa, no.” Splinter insisted. “I just got you back, I am not prepared to lose you again.”

“But-” Miwa tried again.

“No!” Splinter interrupted. “My decision is final.”

There was a moment of silence, then Splinter let out a sigh.

“It is getting late.” he declared. “Get the groceries into the kitchen, then I think it would be best for us all to go to sleep.”

“Hai sensei.” The turtles and Hisako said in unison.

“.... yes, Father.” Miwa said after a moment.

Splinter then turned and walked towards his room, the door sliding shut behind him. Wordlessly, the Hamato siblings took the groceries into the kitchen so they could complete their sensei’s orders.

...

Later that night, Miwa poked her head out of her bedroom, looking around the lair to make sure it was quiet. Down in the living room, she could make out all five of her siblings fast asleep on the large turtle bed. Sighing in relief, Miwa slipped out of her room, vaulting off of the second floor and landing silently on the couch cushions. Jumping from there, she landed in front of the emergency exit off near Donny’s lab. The brainiac had installed it for just in case the lair got raided again. It was a quiet exit, one that led out into the sewers so that they could easily escape. Now, it was being used by Miwa to get out of the lair undetected. She opened the door, then looked back at her sleeping family. She then steeled herself, then exited through the door. Hearing the door close, Leo cracked his eyes open, sitting up. His blanket fell away, revealing that he had not put on his pajamas.

“Looks like you were right, Hisako.” He said aloud, beginning the construction of a pillow dummy. “She did sneak out.”

The rest of the Hamato siblings rose as well, also revealing a lack of pajamas.

“Called it.” Hisako boasted, grabbing her pillow and stuffing it under her blanket.

“Yeah, yeah, psychic guessed when someone was gonna sneak out.” Raph remarked, bunching up his own blanket so in looked like he was still asleep. “Quite the accomplishment.”

“Could have used that back when Leo was sneaking out with her.” Mikey joked, grabbing a couple cushions off the couch to create his pillow dummy. “Could’ve saved us a whole lot of trouble.”

“Leo had mental blocks up, and honestly, I wasn’t looking.” Hisako said in her defense, finishing her dummy. “This time, I doubt Miwa even knew she was broadcasting her intent.”

“She’s scared, that much is certain.” Donny noted, making sure all five pillow dummies were up to snuff.

“Then let’s go back our sister up.” Leo declared.

…

Miwa emerged from the storm drain, walking up to the front doors of Saki Corporations. The building itself had a feeling of being abandoned, and the FOR LEASE sign on the door only sealed the deal. Taking a big breath, she opened the door and went inside, unaware of five highly skilled siblings following her from a distance.

“We go in from the roof and watch from the rafters.” Leo whispered. “Remember, we stay hidden unless Miwa needs our help.”

Four silent nods met his declaration, then Hisako closed her eyes, surrounding herself, and her brothers, in a halo of green energy. She pulled them up onto the roof of Saki Corporations, immediately dropping the energy. She stumbled slightly, four different hands catching her as she did. She waved them off, steadying herself and giving a silent thumbs up.

Once it was clear Hisako was in no danger of passing out, Raph approached an air vent, using his sai to rip the vent off. With a small gesture, he ushered his siblings into the vent, and into the building.

…

After a long elevator ride, Miwa entered the old office of Oroku Saki. Unlike all of the previous times she had come into this place, the braziers were not lit, his desk was empty, and the entire area was coated in a line of dust.

She made it about halfway into the room before braziers suddenly lit up, their flames sparking to life. Miwa jumped, watching as the entire room was soon bathed in the eerie glow. Once all of the braziers were lit, a lone figure emerged from the darkness behind Saki’s desk. The figure wore armor that resembled the Shredder in design, but lacked the sharp attachments what were his trademark and the armor itself was silver. The mask covering the wearer’s face was featureless, nothing like the tengu mask of the Shredder.

Two more Shredder-esque figures emerged from the shadows on the left of the first one, followed by another two on the right. They varied in height and muscle mass under the armor, but nevertheless, it was as if Miwa was staring down five different iterations of the man she once called father.

Up in the rafters above the entire room, the other Hamato siblings had to suppress their gasps of surprise and terror, their eyes locked on the quintet of terrifying figures.

“Honorable Grandmasters.” Miwa declared, sinking to one knee and locking her eyes firmly on the ground in front of her. “I have received your summons and come as you commanded.”

“Excellent child.” the first one replied. “We have much to discuss.”

“First is our condolences for the loss of Oroku Saki.” the second one added. “He was a proud warrior, and I assume, an admirable father.”

Miwa forced herself to bite back the sneer of disgust that threatened to bubble out. Instead, she forced her voice to remain steady and channel her disgust into a line of anger.

“His loss was… hard, Grandmaster Juto.” She said after a moment.

“I imagine so.” a third one responded. “Rest assured though, his demise will not go unchallenged.”

Miwa’s fists clenched slightly at the sound of that. Up in the rafters, the remaining siblings felt shivers of fear pass through them.

“Is that why you summoned me, Grandmaster Mashimi?” she questioned.

“It is indeed.” the fourth confirmed. “We wish to track down the creatures responsible for Saki’s death.”

“And end their insignificant lives.” the fifth one, sounding obviously female, said stepping forward. “Their deaths will send a message to anyone who would dare challenge the might of the Foot.”

Miwa’s breath hitched, as did the breath of her siblings hiding above her. They all exchanged worried glances as they slid closer to one another, continuing their silent vigil.

“I am afraid there is little I can tell you about the creatures.” Miwa lied. “We were never able to collect any viable data on them. Whatever they were, they knew how to keep themselves hidden, especially from us.”

The Grandmasters all turned to each other in confusion and suspicion.

“Is that so?” The first one asked.

“This is questionable, considering your late father was able to acquire pictures of the four turtles and the girl.” Grandmaster Juto added.

Miwa cursed inwardly, having forgotten about the earlier surveillance Shredder had done before calling her in.

“What I meant was that while we may know what they look like, that is all we know.” she amended, feeling sweat pour down her face. “As I said before, they know how to keep themselves hidden.”

There was a moment of silence as the council mulled over Miwa’s words.

“Very well then.” Grandmaster Mashimi eventually let out. “Tell us, what steps have you taken to locate these creatures?”

Once again, Miwa felt a lump of fear settle in her stomach, completely unable to answer the question, not without revealing her family

“Uh, well…” She began, her voice uneven and her entire body beginning to tremble. “The first thing I would suggest would be to…”

“Suggest?” the fifth one repeated, confusion in her voice. “Are you saying that you have done nothing to locate your own Father’s murderers?”

“No!” She responded rapidly before catching herself. “That is… locating them has been tricky, Grandmaster Chikara.”

“So you have said.” The fourth noted, getting visibly irritated. “Now, tell us what you have done to locate these creatures. Now!”

Up in the rafters, the five siblings all had their hands on their weapons, communicating telepathically.

Miwa’s tanking it out there. Mikey mentally whimpered.

Leo, if we don’t do something fast, those Foot Grandmasters are gonna put the kibosh on her. Raph insisted.

Stay put guys. Leo insisted. We can’t expose ourselves yet.

Miwa forced herself to calm down again, despite feeling an overwhelming sense of dread.

“Originally, we attempted to lure them out into the open using their human ally, a psychic named Hisako.” Miwa began, already editing her response so it was free of incriminating information. “Unfortunately, the plan failed when Hisako was revealed to have telekinetic abilities.”

“Yes, we remember Saki’s reports about her.” Grandmaster Juto remarked. “Anything else?”

“N-No.” Miwa answered. “I am afraid after that, they struck down-... The Shredder.”

“Is that so?” Grandmaster Chikara asked, raising an eyebrow under her mask. “Because those reports also mentioned you leading a full scale assault on the creatures original hiding place.”

Wow, Miwa is a terrible liar. Donny remarked.

Yeah, how did you not see through her back when she was Karai? Mikey questioned.

Mikey. Zip it. Leo snapped.

“Oh?” Miwa questioned, gulping. “I… am afraid my… my memory of most of that time is foggy. I was psychically assaulted by Hisako, and left in a coma for weeks. By the time I came out of it… Shredder was dead.”

Okay, that wasn’t a bad cover. Donny amended.

Only if the council buys it, and these guys look like a sharp bunch. Leo replied.

Actually compared to Shredder, they look pretty dull. Mikey joked.

“Karai, do you believe us to be fools?” Grandmaster Chikara questioned, her voice hard and cruel.

Miwa fell silent, fearing saying a single word would jeopardize her already shaky standing.

“Your feeble attempts of deceiving us are paltry at best.” the first declared. “We thought we had taught you better than this.”

“Not only have you been lying to us since you stepped into this chamber, but it is clear that your loyalties no longer lie with the Foot Clan.” Grandmaster Juto proclaimed.

All five of the Grandmasters drew katanas that rested on their hips, pointing the blades right at Miwa. She jumped to her feet as they moved in on her. Unable to stand by any longer, the five siblings descended from the rafters, forming a protective circle around Miwa.

“Back off chumps.” Raph threatened, pointing his sai at them.

“Guys?!” Miwa exclaimed. “What are you doing here?!”

“You really think you could sneak out without me finding out?” Hisako questioned.

Leo aimed his katana at the council, glaring at them.

“You’re right, her loyalties aren’t with the Foot anymore.” He declared. “She belongs with us.”

“And her name’s not Karai.” Mikey added, connecting his nunchaku into his three-piece staff. “It’s Miwa. Hamato Miwa.”

“Hamato?” Grandmaster Chikara repeated. “She bears the name of Hamato Yoshi?”

“Whoops.” Mikey let out.

“Way to go, big mouth.” Raph snapped. “You just gave away our big secret.”

“Hey, it’s not like I told them Splinter is Hamato Yoshi.” Mikey said in his defense.

The council was stunned upon hearing that realization.

“Hamato Yoshi lives?” Grandmaster Mashimi realized.

“Mikey, do us all a favor and shut up.” Raph growled.

Leo moved in between his siblings and the council, keeping his katana level.

“Hamato Yoshi is Miwa’s true father.” He explained. “He is also the man who raised me and siblings. He is an honorable man.”

“Honorable?” the first one repeated. “That man is a traitor to the Foot Clan! He tried to slay his own aniki and left him to die in that temple fire.”

“In self-defense.” Donny insisted. “Saki attacked him first, forcing Splinter to act to protect himself and Tang Shen.”

“The lies of a desperate man.” Grandmaster Juto declared. “We know of Yoshi’s desire to usurp control of the Foot from within. Our predecessors warned of his treacheries, and that should he ever be found alive, that he must be slain.”

“Wow, Shredder really did a number on you chumps.” Raph observed. “Ever thought Saki might be the dishonest one here? Trying to take Splinter out if he ever showed up again? I mean personally, a guy calling himself the Shredder doesn’t exactly scream trust.”

“Hold your tongue, boy.” Grandmaster Mashimi snapped. “The title of the Shredder is an honorable one, passed on to the greatest warriors of the Foot. How dare you accuse him of such treachery!”

“Isn’t there anyway we can prove Splinter’s innocence?” Donny asked.

“Your ‘master’ has already been seen as guilty of his crimes.” the first one informed him. “However, we will give him a chance to regain some of his lost honor.”

The other councilors glanced at the second one in confusion.

“Grand Master Kon, are you suggesting what I think you are?” the fourth one questioned.

“Yes, Hisomi.” Grandmaster Kon replied before addressing the siblings. “If Hamato Yoshi truly is the honorable man you claim him to be, then tell him to meet us here at sunset tomorrow night. Then, we will give him a chance to battle us in a fair trial of combat.”

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Leo asked.

“We honor the ways of bushido, young kame.” Grandmaster Kon answered.

“But know this, students of Hamato Yoshi.” Grandmaster Chikara interjected. “Should your master fail to come, then his descendant will bear his punishment.”

Miwa squeaked in fear.

“You can’t do that!” Mikey insisted.

“We can and we will.” Grandmaster Hisomi rebutted.

“It is tradition that the child pay the price for the crimes of their parent in the absence.” Grandmaster Chikara explained. “Now go, and tell Hamato Yoshi of our generous offer.”

“No way!” Raph shouted. “We are not going just walk away and let you use our sister against our father!”

He charged at the Grandmasters, yelling with each step. His sai would have connected right with Grandmaster Hisomi had the ninja not sidestepped out of the way. Right as Raph charged past, Hisomi grabbed the rim of his shell, propelling him forward and right into Saki’s old desk. Donny and Mikey charged in next, hoping a two pronged attack would be more effective. Mashimi and Juto moved in, blocking their weapons with their own katanas. In a split second, both turtles had been disarmed and tossed unceremoniously onto Raph.

“These are the beings that defeated Oroku Saki?” Chikara let out. “I expected more.”

All of a sudden, Chikara was surrounded by a green halo of energy seconds before being tossed to the side, right into Kon. The two hit the wall, where they soon recovered. As they did, Leo leapt into the air to try for a killing blow. Both ninjas dodged easily, Kon going for Leo as Chikara went for Hisako. The two swordsman clashed as Chikara unleashed a volley of shuriken. Hisako was forced to use her powers to block the projectiles, leaving herself open for Chikara to deliver a painful chop to the back of her neck. Hisako crumbled to the ground just as Kon succeeded in disarming Leo.

“What the-?” Leo said second before Kon kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying.

All five siblings were flat on their shells, groaning as they tried to regain their senses as both the Grandmasters and Miwa looked down at them.

“Foolish children.” Grandmaster Kon said, shaking his head in disappointment. “You have no chance of beating us. Leave now and live.”

“What part of we ain’t leaving our sister ain’t penetrating that thick helmet of yours?!” Raph yelled.

“Guys stop!” Miwa begged. “Please, don’t do this.”

“Miwa, we can’t just-” Leo began.

“You can and you will.” She interrupted. “I promise you, I’ll be fine, just go tell dad about what happened. He’ll know what to do.”

Reluctantly, the turtles and Hisako picked themselves up off the ground, putting away their weapons.

“We’ll be back, Miwa.” Mikey promised. “I swear it.”

“Leave now, while we still allow it.” Grandmaster Chikara snapped.

The turtles and Hisako jumped back up into the rafters and towards their entry point. Before joining them in their forced exodus, Hisako turned back to the Council, giving them each a cold stare.

“If you harm a single hair on Miwa’s head-” she threatened.

“The fate of your friend-” Grandmaster Juto began.

“Sister.” Hisako corrected.

“The fate of your sister is in the hands of your Sensei now.” he replied, amending his declaration accordingly.

Hisako met Miwa’s eyes, giving her sister a sympathetic look before following her brothers out of the room, leaving Miwa alone with the council. Grandmaster Hisomi grabbed her gently by the shoulder, ushering her away.

…

The five siblings returned to the lair, not even bothering to try and sneak in. None of them were surprised to find Master Splinter waiting at the entrance, their pillow dummies deconstructed and their blankets strewn across the mattress. He stood there, a look of pure rage on his face and a death grip on his walking stick.

“My children, where have you been?!” he demanded, then he realized one of them was missing. “And where is Miwa?!”

The siblings looked at one another, unsure of how to tell their father what had happened.

“She…” Mikey started to speak.

“The council...” Donny tried.

“We thought we could explain...” Hisako added.

“They made her stay...” Raph growled out.

“We’re sorry sensei.” Leo apologized.

Splinter was in shock of all that he had heard. He clutched his chest as his walking stick began to shake, tears of fear beginning to fall.

“No… Miwa...” he practically sobbed.

The siblings ushered their sensei to the couch, all of them gathering around him.

“We went to back her up, to get her out if things went south.” Leo explained.

“But then Mikey opened his big fat mouth and told those Grand Masters who you and Miwa really were.” Raph added, giving the orange turtle a glare.

“It was an accident.” Mikey insisted.

“Anyway,” Donny interrupted. “They agreed to meet with you for a fair trial of combat.”

“You have to go to Saki Corporation tomorrow at sunset.” Hisako continued. “If you don’t...”

“Then Miwa will take my place.” Splinter finished, letting out a worried sigh. “This is why I did not wish for her to go. For anyone to go. I knew that Saki would drag my name through the mud should he survive our battle in the temple, and I knew that if they learned of Miwa’s true lineage, that she would be forced to pay for my false crimes.”

“And now she’s the council’s prisoner.” Leo said mournfully.

“Well, maybe we could rescue her.” Hisako offered. “Shell knows we have plenty of practice in that particular field.”

Splinter shook his head.

“Even if I thought such a plan had even a miniscule chance of success, taking Miwa in that manner would only prove the council’s misconceptions of me and my honor.” he explained.

“B-but… you said so yourself.” Donny let out. “The council is not to be trifled with. If you go up against them-”

Splinter placed a hand on Donny’s shell, cutting off the purple turtle’s protests.

“I have no choice.” he answered simply. “I will accept the council’s offer, and spare Miwa this fate.”

All five siblings wanted to argue, but they knew it would be futile. Silently, they all moved towards their sensei, hugging him tightly. He accepted the hug, part of him worried that this would be the last time he would be able to hold his children.

[racheltgibsau]

3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game

Author: Jessica Minasian

In marketing, the word “perfection” might conjure up images of running effortless campaigns and initiatives. Though, as we know, that’s not always the case. Marketing is sometimes imperfect. We face challenges and must forge ahead.

This begs the question, should marketers strive for perfection? Perfectionism can prevent you from getting off the ground because you’re waiting for an ideal state, which may or might not come before your deadline.

Being overly meticulous in today’s digital world can lead to perfection paralysis. In our quest to achieve the unachievable marketing state—exceeding every deadline, never making a mistake, and producing flawless campaigns—we can end up stalling projects. That’s why perfectionism is often synonymous with procrastination. The longer you wait, the faster you must rush to the finish line.

Perfection paralysis is not a new concept, but it’s one that is picking up speed in high profile roles like marketing. The word perfection paralysis sprung out of ‘analysis paralysis,’ which is the over-thinking of something to the point of inaction. Since this concept made its mark, people have been learning how to overcome it.

Like my fellow consultants at Marketo, I’ve brushed up against perfection paralysis many times. While developing best practices for our customers, I quickly realized that it would take longer than expected to launch a ‘perfect’ final product.

Some telltale signs of perfection paralysis are:

Setting overly high expectations

Rushing towards impossible deadlines

Internal criticism

By finding a balance between perfectionism and realistic goals, you can take a step towards overcoming perfection paralysis. Here are three tips for putting your best foot out there without suffering from perfection paralysis: 

1. Focus on Being Great

There’s a difference between being perfect and being great. Perfection is sometimes unachievable, especially with the strict deadlines that marketers face. However, delighting and engaging your target audience on a consistent basis is achievable. A great marketing strategy takes time to formulate. Because it will be the sounding board for your current and future campaigns, you should take the time to do it well.

For example, at Marketo, one of our nurturing methods is called ‘wake the dead,’ where we reach out to valid leads who need a little extra love to re-engage. With the right marketing platform, you can pull a list or audience segment and develop a nurturing strategy that dictates when leads enter and exit the campaign, and what content they should see at each stage. Then, it’s about setting and communicating realistic expectations for your team. If you believe that a deadline is too ambitious, start by breaking down the tasks to map out a timeline. Follow-up and ask for extensions as needed. From there, the onus is on your team to collaborate.

During this process, consistent communication is essential for producing great work and staying away from perfection paralysis. By talking about the requirements upfront, your team will be able to determine a more realistic deadline and set feasible expectations for the final deliverable.

2. Create Templates and Clone Away

Every marketer strikes gold once in a while. It’s when a campaign speaks directly to your audience and hits all the key performance indicators your team wanted. But how do you replicate the results and set realistic expectations?

Marketers know all too well that even with a standard practice, sometimes there can be too many cooks in the kitchen. You might notice everyone does things a little differently. Each of your colleagues has their own ways of working, building, or developing. By creating user-tested templates, you can give everyone an even playing field while maintaining your brand standards. And by creating user roles and flexible permissions that admins can determine, you can still obtain a bird’s eye view of your activities on your marketing platform.

By standardizing your practices, you and your team can grow faster because you’ll learn the basics and then quickly advance. Creating email, landing page or program templates can help everyone put their best marketing foot forward, without worrying about missing the mark. Rather than meticulously building campaigns from scratch, you can focus on developing exceptional marketing campaigns.

To build a basic template, marketers need to first develop a few building blocks. This includes creating assets, such as emails, landing pages, and forms, and content and campaigns that will engage your audience. Don’t forget about measuring and optimizing your campaigns as you go along, and all the bells and whistles like web personalization and dynamic content.

3. Learn from Your Mistakes and Move On

Marketers can make mistakes. After all, we are human, and as I write this, I can almost hear a faint scream from my perfectionist friends. It’s tough for any marketer to acknowledge there are some aspects of marketing that are imperfect. However, it’s not the mistakes you make that define you, but how you can come back from them.

Perfection paralysis is the inability to move forward after a setback, like sending the wrong email. When perfectionists make mistakes, they’ll often stop and obsess over it—rather than acting fast to fix them. To overcome perfection paralysis, you need to look at the situation with a fresh perspective. Projects can get sticky, fast, so take a step back and then reevaluate.

A mistake is only an error if you do not learn and fix it. Most marketing blunders have a solution, so it’s vital to forge ahead and have a plan B. Hold yourself accountable for your mistake, find a solution, and move past it. Ultimately, your team and customers are counting on you to dig deep and find the answers.

In closing, marketers who are willing to push past perfection paralysis can beat it. Knowing the difference between “perfection” and achievable makes all the difference. It’s not always the perfectionists who rise above the competition, but the marketers who consistently produce great work, replicate it, and learn from their mistakes. So, keep perfection paralysis in its place, behind you, by ensuring you incorporate these three ways to move forward.

Have you ever succumbed to perfection paralysis? Share how you overcame it in the comments below!

3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game was posted at Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership. | http://blog.marketo.com

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[maxslogic25]

3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game

Author: Jessica Minasian

In marketing, the word “perfection” might conjure up images of running effortless campaigns and initiatives. Though, as we know, that’s not always the case. Marketing is sometimes imperfect. We face challenges and must forge ahead.

This begs the question, should marketers strive for perfection? Perfectionism can prevent you from getting off the ground because you’re waiting for an ideal state, which may or might not come before your deadline.

Being overly meticulous in today’s digital world can lead to perfection paralysis. In our quest to achieve the unachievable marketing state—exceeding every deadline, never making a mistake, and producing flawless campaigns—we can end up stalling projects. That’s why perfectionism is often synonymous with procrastination. The longer you wait, the faster you must rush to the finish line.

Perfection paralysis is not a new concept, but it’s one that is picking up speed in high profile roles like marketing. The word perfection paralysis sprung out of ‘analysis paralysis,’ which is the over-thinking of something to the point of inaction. Since this concept made its mark, people have been learning how to overcome it.

Like my fellow consultants at Marketo, I’ve brushed up against perfection paralysis many times. While developing best practices for our customers, I quickly realized that it would take longer than expected to launch a ‘perfect’ final product.

Some telltale signs of perfection paralysis are:

Setting overly high expectations

Rushing towards impossible deadlines

Internal criticism

By finding a balance between perfectionism and realistic goals, you can take a step towards overcoming perfection paralysis. Here are three tips for putting your best foot out there without suffering from perfection paralysis: 

1. Focus on Being Great

There’s a difference between being perfect and being great. Perfection is sometimes unachievable, especially with the strict deadlines that marketers face. However, delighting and engaging your target audience on a consistent basis is achievable. A great marketing strategy takes time to formulate. Because it will be the sounding board for your current and future campaigns, you should take the time to do it well.

For example, at Marketo, one of our nurturing methods is called ‘wake the dead,’ where we reach out to valid leads who need a little extra love to re-engage. With the right marketing platform, you can pull a list or audience segment and develop a nurturing strategy that dictates when leads enter and exit the campaign, and what content they should see at each stage. Then, it’s about setting and communicating realistic expectations for your team. If you believe that a deadline is too ambitious, start by breaking down the tasks to map out a timeline. Follow-up and ask for extensions as needed. From there, the onus is on your team to collaborate.

During this process, consistent communication is essential for producing great work and staying away from perfection paralysis. By talking about the requirements upfront, your team will be able to determine a more realistic deadline and set feasible expectations for the final deliverable.

2. Create Templates and Clone Away

Every marketer strikes gold once in a while. It’s when a campaign speaks directly to your audience and hits all the key performance indicators your team wanted. But how do you replicate the results and set realistic expectations?

Marketers know all too well that even with a standard practice, sometimes there can be too many cooks in the kitchen. You might notice everyone does things a little differently. Each of your colleagues has their own ways of working, building, or developing. By creating user-tested templates, you can give everyone an even playing field while maintaining your brand standards. And by creating user roles and flexible permissions that admins can determine, you can still obtain a bird’s eye view of your activities on your marketing platform.

By standardizing your practices, you and your team can grow faster because you’ll learn the basics and then quickly advance. Creating email, landing page or program templates can help everyone put their best marketing foot forward, without worrying about missing the mark. Rather than meticulously building campaigns from scratch, you can focus on developing exceptional marketing campaigns.

To build a basic template, marketers need to first develop a few building blocks. This includes creating assets, such as emails, landing pages, and forms, and content and campaigns that will engage your audience. Don’t forget about measuring and optimizing your campaigns as you go along, and all the bells and whistles like web personalization and dynamic content.

3. Learn from Your Mistakes and Move On

Marketers can make mistakes. After all, we are human, and as I write this, I can almost hear a faint scream from my perfectionist friends. It’s tough for any marketer to acknowledge there are some aspects of marketing that are imperfect. However, it’s not the mistakes you make that define you, but how you can come back from them.

Perfection paralysis is the inability to move forward after a setback, like sending the wrong email. When perfectionists make mistakes, they’ll often stop and obsess over it—rather than acting fast to fix them. To overcome perfection paralysis, you need to look at the situation with a fresh perspective. Projects can get sticky, fast, so take a step back and then reevaluate.

A mistake is only an error if you do not learn and fix it. Most marketing blunders have a solution, so it’s vital to forge ahead and have a plan B. Hold yourself accountable for your mistake, find a solution, and move past it. Ultimately, your team and customers are counting on you to dig deep and find the answers.

In closing, marketers who are willing to push past perfection paralysis can beat it. Knowing the difference between “perfection” and achievable makes all the difference. It’s not always the perfectionists who rise above the competition, but the marketers who consistently produce great work, replicate it, and learn from their mistakes. So, keep perfection paralysis in its place, behind you, by ensuring you incorporate these three ways to move forward.

Have you ever succumbed to perfection paralysis? Share how you overcame it in the comments below!

3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game was posted at Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership. | http://blog.marketo.com

The post 3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game appeared first on Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership.

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[zacdhaenkeau]

3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game

Author: Jessica Minasian

In marketing, the word “perfection” might conjure up images of running effortless campaigns and initiatives. Though, as we know, that’s not always the case. Marketing is sometimes imperfect. We face challenges and must forge ahead.

This begs the question, should marketers strive for perfection? Perfectionism can prevent you from getting off the ground because you’re waiting for an ideal state, which may or might not come before your deadline.

Being overly meticulous in today’s digital world can lead to perfection paralysis. In our quest to achieve the unachievable marketing state—exceeding every deadline, never making a mistake, and producing flawless campaigns—we can end up stalling projects. That’s why perfectionism is often synonymous with procrastination. The longer you wait, the faster you must rush to the finish line.

Perfection paralysis is not a new concept, but it’s one that is picking up speed in high profile roles like marketing. The word perfection paralysis sprung out of ‘analysis paralysis,’ which is the over-thinking of something to the point of inaction. Since this concept made its mark, people have been learning how to overcome it.

Like my fellow consultants at Marketo, I’ve brushed up against perfection paralysis many times. While developing best practices for our customers, I quickly realized that it would take longer than expected to launch a ‘perfect’ final product.

Some telltale signs of perfection paralysis are:

Setting overly high expectations

Rushing towards impossible deadlines

Internal criticism

By finding a balance between perfectionism and realistic goals, you can take a step towards overcoming perfection paralysis. Here are three tips for putting your best foot out there without suffering from perfection paralysis: 

1. Focus on Being Great

There’s a difference between being perfect and being great. Perfection is sometimes unachievable, especially with the strict deadlines that marketers face. However, delighting and engaging your target audience on a consistent basis is achievable. A great marketing strategy takes time to formulate. Because it will be the sounding board for your current and future campaigns, you should take the time to do it well.

For example, at Marketo, one of our nurturing methods is called ‘wake the dead,’ where we reach out to valid leads who need a little extra love to re-engage. With the right marketing platform, you can pull a list or audience segment and develop a nurturing strategy that dictates when leads enter and exit the campaign, and what content they should see at each stage. Then, it’s about setting and communicating realistic expectations for your team. If you believe that a deadline is too ambitious, start by breaking down the tasks to map out a timeline. Follow-up and ask for extensions as needed. From there, the onus is on your team to collaborate.

During this process, consistent communication is essential for producing great work and staying away from perfection paralysis. By talking about the requirements upfront, your team will be able to determine a more realistic deadline and set feasible expectations for the final deliverable.

2. Create Templates and Clone Away

Every marketer strikes gold once in a while. It’s when a campaign speaks directly to your audience and hits all the key performance indicators your team wanted. But how do you replicate the results and set realistic expectations?

Marketers know all too well that even with a standard practice, sometimes there can be too many cooks in the kitchen. You might notice everyone does things a little differently. Each of your colleagues has their own ways of working, building, or developing. By creating user-tested templates, you can give everyone an even playing field while maintaining your brand standards. And by creating user roles and flexible permissions that admins can determine, you can still obtain a bird’s eye view of your activities on your marketing platform.

By standardizing your practices, you and your team can grow faster because you’ll learn the basics and then quickly advance. Creating email, landing page or program templates can help everyone put their best marketing foot forward, without worrying about missing the mark. Rather than meticulously building campaigns from scratch, you can focus on developing exceptional marketing campaigns.

To build a basic template, marketers need to first develop a few building blocks. This includes creating assets, such as emails, landing pages, and forms, and content and campaigns that will engage your audience. Don’t forget about measuring and optimizing your campaigns as you go along, and all the bells and whistles like web personalization and dynamic content.

3. Learn from Your Mistakes and Move On

Marketers can make mistakes. After all, we are human, and as I write this, I can almost hear a faint scream from my perfectionist friends. It’s tough for any marketer to acknowledge there are some aspects of marketing that are imperfect. However, it’s not the mistakes you make that define you, but how you can come back from them.

Perfection paralysis is the inability to move forward after a setback, like sending the wrong email. When perfectionists make mistakes, they’ll often stop and obsess over it—rather than acting fast to fix them. To overcome perfection paralysis, you need to look at the situation with a fresh perspective. Projects can get sticky, fast, so take a step back and then reevaluate.

A mistake is only an error if you do not learn and fix it. Most marketing blunders have a solution, so it’s vital to forge ahead and have a plan B. Hold yourself accountable for your mistake, find a solution, and move past it. Ultimately, your team and customers are counting on you to dig deep and find the answers.

In closing, marketers who are willing to push past perfection paralysis can beat it. Knowing the difference between “perfection” and achievable makes all the difference. It’s not always the perfectionists who rise above the competition, but the marketers who consistently produce great work, replicate it, and learn from their mistakes. So, keep perfection paralysis in its place, behind you, by ensuring you incorporate these three ways to move forward.

Have you ever succumbed to perfection paralysis? Share how you overcame it in the comments below!

3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game was posted at Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership. | http://blog.marketo.com

The post 3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game appeared first on Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8217493 http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/modernb2bmarketing/~3/ZVhhIsBEcc4/3-ways-to-beat-perfection-paralysis-at-its-own-game.html

[archiebwoollard]

3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game

Author: Jessica Minasian

In marketing, the word “perfection” might conjure up images of running effortless campaigns and initiatives. Though, as we know, that’s not always the case. Marketing is sometimes imperfect. We face challenges and must forge ahead.

This begs the question, should marketers strive for perfection? Perfectionism can prevent you from getting off the ground because you’re waiting for an ideal state, which may or might not come before your deadline.

Being overly meticulous in today’s digital world can lead to perfection paralysis. In our quest to achieve the unachievable marketing state—exceeding every deadline, never making a mistake, and producing flawless campaigns—we can end up stalling projects. That’s why perfectionism is often synonymous with procrastination. The longer you wait, the faster you must rush to the finish line.

Perfection paralysis is not a new concept, but it’s one that is picking up speed in high profile roles like marketing. The word perfection paralysis sprung out of ‘analysis paralysis,’ which is the over-thinking of something to the point of inaction. Since this concept made its mark, people have been learning how to overcome it.

Like my fellow consultants at Marketo, I’ve brushed up against perfection paralysis many times. While developing best practices for our customers, I quickly realized that it would take longer than expected to launch a ‘perfect’ final product.

Some telltale signs of perfection paralysis are:

Setting overly high expectations

Rushing towards impossible deadlines

Internal criticism

By finding a balance between perfectionism and realistic goals, you can take a step towards overcoming perfection paralysis. Here are three tips for putting your best foot out there without suffering from perfection paralysis: 

1. Focus on Being Great

There’s a difference between being perfect and being great. Perfection is sometimes unachievable, especially with the strict deadlines that marketers face. However, delighting and engaging your target audience on a consistent basis is achievable. A great marketing strategy takes time to formulate. Because it will be the sounding board for your current and future campaigns, you should take the time to do it well.

For example, at Marketo, one of our nurturing methods is called ‘wake the dead,’ where we reach out to valid leads who need a little extra love to re-engage. With the right marketing platform, you can pull a list or audience segment and develop a nurturing strategy that dictates when leads enter and exit the campaign, and what content they should see at each stage. Then, it’s about setting and communicating realistic expectations for your team. If you believe that a deadline is too ambitious, start by breaking down the tasks to map out a timeline. Follow-up and ask for extensions as needed. From there, the onus is on your team to collaborate.

During this process, consistent communication is essential for producing great work and staying away from perfection paralysis. By talking about the requirements upfront, your team will be able to determine a more realistic deadline and set feasible expectations for the final deliverable.

2. Create Templates and Clone Away

Every marketer strikes gold once in a while. It’s when a campaign speaks directly to your audience and hits all the key performance indicators your team wanted. But how do you replicate the results and set realistic expectations?

Marketers know all too well that even with a standard practice, sometimes there can be too many cooks in the kitchen. You might notice everyone does things a little differently. Each of your colleagues has their own ways of working, building, or developing. By creating user-tested templates, you can give everyone an even playing field while maintaining your brand standards. And by creating user roles and flexible permissions that admins can determine, you can still obtain a bird’s eye view of your activities on your marketing platform.

By standardizing your practices, you and your team can grow faster because you’ll learn the basics and then quickly advance. Creating email, landing page or program templates can help everyone put their best marketing foot forward, without worrying about missing the mark. Rather than meticulously building campaigns from scratch, you can focus on developing exceptional marketing campaigns.

To build a basic template, marketers need to first develop a few building blocks. This includes creating assets, such as emails, landing pages, and forms, and content and campaigns that will engage your audience. Don’t forget about measuring and optimizing your campaigns as you go along, and all the bells and whistles like web personalization and dynamic content.

3. Learn from Your Mistakes and Move On

Marketers can make mistakes. After all, we are human, and as I write this, I can almost hear a faint scream from my perfectionist friends. It’s tough for any marketer to acknowledge there are some aspects of marketing that are imperfect. However, it’s not the mistakes you make that define you, but how you can come back from them.

Perfection paralysis is the inability to move forward after a setback, like sending the wrong email. When perfectionists make mistakes, they’ll often stop and obsess over it—rather than acting fast to fix them. To overcome perfection paralysis, you need to look at the situation with a fresh perspective. Projects can get sticky, fast, so take a step back and then reevaluate.

A mistake is only an error if you do not learn and fix it. Most marketing blunders have a solution, so it’s vital to forge ahead and have a plan B. Hold yourself accountable for your mistake, find a solution, and move past it. Ultimately, your team and customers are counting on you to dig deep and find the answers.

In closing, marketers who are willing to push past perfection paralysis can beat it. Knowing the difference between “perfection” and achievable makes all the difference. It’s not always the perfectionists who rise above the competition, but the marketers who consistently produce great work, replicate it, and learn from their mistakes. So, keep perfection paralysis in its place, behind you, by ensuring you incorporate these three ways to move forward.

Have you ever succumbed to perfection paralysis? Share how you overcame it in the comments below!

3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game was posted at Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership. | http://blog.marketo.com

The post 3 Ways to Beat Perfection Paralysis at Its Own Game appeared first on Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8217493 http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/modernb2bmarketing/~3/ZVhhIsBEcc4/3-ways-to-beat-perfection-paralysis-at-its-own-game.html