#funny enough this one reads so much cleaner than the other one to me despite being pen while the other was pencil

[caffeineinmyspleen]

A slightly better Logan reference! The first felt a bit too messy, and I just wasn’t satisfied.

It’s slow going but the others are all designed (outside of some color choices) and will be posted once I’m satisfied :D

Close up of the corner head below (I tried giving him a little more spook)

[acrekette]

Frederick Kreiburg

I like him because he has the perfect blend of characteristics I like. I relate to he kinda has ocd and psychosis. I dislike how they're not yet giving him proper focus

Favorite canon thing? That he's mannered, he loves horses. How he was once the golden child but is burned out asf as an adult, disowned and cut of from finances. I love that he plays the piano, how he wants people to see beyond his looks, how he loves his family when they don't want him, how he admires talented people instead of envies them. I love how he tries so hard and so much more

Least favorite canon thing? None.

I want to see him in all forms of media

Song I associate with him? "Insecure" by twenty one pilots

Something we have in common? Mental illness. Paranoia. Our dads suck. We both never achieved our dreams. Other stuff.

Something the fandom does with the character that I like?? Eyelashes!

Something fandom does that I don't like? Honestly, when they just pair him. No one talks about his lore as much. That's a personal pet peeve

Could we be roommates? Canonically, he even requested to have the most private room far away from everyone. So no.

Could we be best friends? If he were real, I'd do anything to see him happy. Not sure he'll like me. But if he wants, I'll be the happiest best friend

Would you date this character? Romances are tricky. I'm not sure. Funny thing I had a dream where I saw him and thought I don't deserve him

Head canon for this character? Mary gifted him his tuning fork. He doesn't know how to clean so the first thing he did with his commission money was hire cleaners.

emoji for this character: 🎹🎶

Assign a fashion aesthetic. Strangely enough, since he has piercings and spikey hair, I imagine a weird mix of bespoke and punk rock? Imagine the Marie Joseph in the manga "innocent"

favorite ship for this character? I'm not invested in any, but I like any ship art with him only because I get to see more art of him.

Least favorite ship with him? Pr0ship ones. Thankfully he doesn't have much pr0ship content. He's ship with -alot- but at least it's usually ok

Neutral ship? As I said, most of it

Relationship with a canon character that I admire? He seems to care for Mary and they both might be supportive of each other coz they're both born in the same uncaring family

Canon relationship I don't like? His dad

Ideal best friend for this character? Alice. Idk why him and Orpheus are so popular when they're both antagonistic. Alice actually noticed that Frederick was tired and sad, and didn't throw him under the bus like the rest. Though yeah, he isn't as nice to her. I think he isn't nice to everyone anyway. But in a scenario where he gets a caring friend, it would be Alice

If I'm a fic writer, what do I do with them?I'm not a fic writer but I draw and caption it with my head canons. I usually draw him melancholic and contemplating. I like to make him angelic looking.

If I'm a fic reader, what do I like when I read? I don't read fanfictions of him tbh so I can't comment. I only read one, found it here in Tumblr, it was about how Frederick would act in a relationship, and I loved it coz it got his character well. That's where I got the he doesn't know how to do chores. Ig I loved it if they deal with his abandonment issues and how he struggles with no support

Favorite pic of him? The AOM 2 poster. It's fully rendered art and clearer than my life

Other character from another fandom reminds me of them? Just the vibe: Sunday from HSR

First impression: basic unoriginal condescending good looking guy. Present impression: insecure person that got unfairly treated for not being the perfect child. He's ashamed of his good looks because his family couldn't care less about any of his redeeming qualities. Love was conditional for him. He acts distant as a protective barrier because he was hurt and probably has cptsd. Despite everything, he's not a bitter guy. He admires others that are talented. He hates himself and pushes himself to hard for just being himself.

CHARACTER ASK GAME!!! 💫

Send a character + one or more of these question!

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

11. Would you date this character?

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favorite that you're fine with?

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

23. Favorite picture of this character?

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

26. FREEBIE QUESTION!!

[nctsworld]

in a king-size, say i’m your queen

✩‌ renjun ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ prince!renjun | fluff | smut | ‌3.4k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you’re drawn to the kingdom’s prince staying at your family’s inn. on the night before he leaves, you exchange good-byes in the form of a kiss and more. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (near the end), unprotected s*x, f*ngering, oral s*x (m receiving), mentions of alcohol/drinking, commoner!reader, dash of angst RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature PROMPT ⇾‌ prince/royalty au // fluff + smut REQ BY ⇾‌ anonymous   ‌

⇾‌ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

“Prince Huang, this is my family, who will be looking after you during your stay.”

Your father awoke everyone from deep slumber in the middle of the night, hollering at everyone to put on their work clothes in a hurry. Little did anyone expect the actual prince himself to be taking a rest at your family’s inn, for several days apparently.  

As the youngest and only daughter among your kin, your father introduces you last in line to greet the prince and his companions. With sleep still in your eyes, you curtsy as gracefully as you can, once towards the prince and another towards his followers.

The sleep in your eyes disappears as your eyelids suddenly bloom at your first clear look at the man standing a few steps across from you.

Everyone within the kingdom obviously knew of the royal family, but being this far from the mainland never granted you the chance to see them in-person. There were rumours far and wide of how captivating and beautiful the family was, especially the prince, but you assumed they were exaggerating, fueling the propaganda mill that all royalty were gorgeous, godly beings.

Oh, to be absolutely wrong.

Air’s snatched from your lungs when his warm smile burgeons, warming the room more than the fireplace ever could.

He holds his gaze on you, placing a palm on his chest and saying, “My dearest apologies for disturbing your dreams. It was a must though; we haven’t stopped anywhere in days and finally found your inn.”

Your father replies to his words, while you blink observantly at the royal figure. You wonder if it’s due to the lack of sleep or simply all in your head, but you swear his glances waver over at you more than your other family members.

“Well, I will retire to bed now and won’t be requiring your services until morning. Please resume your slumbers, and I wish you all the sweetest of dreams.”

Puffing his cheeks cutely, he bends his head slightly towards your family, while all of you dip and bow to him. When you two jointly look up, your gaze surely connects with his.

Funny enough, his wish comes true as his beauty rules over your dreams, molding them into sweet ones, for the rest of the night.  

On the second morning of his stay, you watch him relaxing at the back of the inn among the luscious greenery. In a loose white-button up, he’s sitting by himself, save for a guard nearby, and lounging in a chair under the spring sun.

Prior to starting on your tasks for the day, you stroll towards him with a jug in hand. Smiling freely, his eyes are shut as you approach him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Your Royal Highness—”

His eyes flutter open at your divine voice and his smile deepens.

“But would you care for some lemon juice?”

The boyish man hums in acceptance and he’s glued to how you carefully pour the liquid into his chalice. His eyes track the path of your departure after you leave the jug on the table and head towards a group of trees in the farther end of the garden.

Though he delights in the picturesque image of you skillfully picking the yellow fruit, which he assumes are lemons, off the tree from your wooden ladder and dropping them into the bucket hanging from your hand, a desire simmers in his stomach to be in your presence. The prince's guard follows behind him discreetly as the handsome individual makes his way over and speaks to you from below.

“May I assist you?” he offers.

His appearance startles you for a moment, then your stare unintentionally drops over the exposed skin of his upper frame. You ponder over the smoothness of his skin and imagine yourself leaving kisses upon his clavicle, on his chest, going downward further and further...

Clearing your throat and shaking your head to focus, you airily laugh at his question. The highness’s eyebrows crease, perplexed by your response.    

“Prince Huang—”

“Call me Renjun, please,” he interrupts, laying a palm against his chest. “I insist.”

“Prince Huang,” you reiterate, not wanting to breach the formalities. “It’s my duty—and an honor if I may add—to pick these lemons for you, not yours.”

“Well, as prince,” Renjun gently seizes the bucket away from your grasp. “I order you to allow me to assist you.”

Incredulously, you stare at him for a lingering moment and he engages equally, delving into your glowing aura.

Since you can’t reject his order, you yield and continue to pick the lemons off the tree, now plopping them into the bucket held by Renjun. Throughout the comfortable silence, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for one second, admiring how elegant you are with the light breeze blowing through your hair.  

He wonders to himself if you’re aware of your devastating beauty.  

A couple of nights pass and during one evening, in the shared resting area, you find Renjun situated adjacent to the fireplace, reading a book alone (with a guard lurking close by, of course).

The prince’s features are already so soft, but he seems ethereal with the fire’s glow against his face. You’re reminded of the first night he arrived.  

As you usually do, you query if he needs anything before you retire to your room.  

He replies negatively, but then adds, “Would you like to hear some of the story I’m reading before bed?”

Shaking your head, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”  

“Not at all,” Renjun beams. He gestures for you to sit in the seat beside him, and you do so with prickling cheeks.  

His fingers flip a few pages back and he tells the short story from the beginning. Your cheek tips into your palm as you listen intently. Yes, the story is intriguing, but you’re also focused on Renjun’s voice. It’s soothing, yet lively with the specific parts in which he modulates his tone to flow perfectly with the storytelling.

And then you drift over his plush, kissable lips. You will yourself to focus on the story, rather than the reader.

In between his reading, he peers up from the pages to see if you’re still interested to hear the rest of the story, not wanting to waste your time nor bore you to death. He reads the dazzling expression on your face as a signal to finish until the very end.

When it’s over, Renjun asks if you enjoyed it. You hum positively and stand up, excusing yourself to formally leave for the night. You exchange pleasant good-nights and sweet dreams. While you shuffle off, before you’re past the doorway, he pipes up—

“Perhaps I can read you another story tomorrow evening?”

You turn around by the end of his sentence, grasping onto the doorframe.

Renjun continues, his grip tightening around the closed book. “If you wish.”

Your lips press together, in hopes to suppress a grin. It doesn’t work too well.  

“I’d like that very much.”

Time flies, and it’s already the second to last day before Renjun’s departure. Your family decides to arrange a party at the inn, inviting the fellow townspeople to join as well.  

Fittingly, Renjun sits in the middle of the long table alongside his associates and is entertained by the spectacle of the event. After the townspeople grant him gifts and dinner is served, the dancing commences. Throughout the evening, he keeps a constant eye out for you.

All night, you serve the guests and barely have time to properly eat your own meal. However, as the night lengthens, your parents urge you to live a little. In the middle of the hall, you rush to unite with your close friends, clasping onto their hands and dancing around in circles to the merry music.

The royal figure radiates, enticed from the scene of you laughing and jumping in joy, having never seen this side of you before. His heart flops at the endearing sight and an itch overcomes him. Taking a sip of his wine, Renjun anxiously wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and heads towards you onto the dance floor.  

Gasps trail behind his steps as he floats through the domino effect of bowing people. He casually says his thank you’s to everyone in passing and as the domino effect finally reaches a stop within the middle of the room, you’re the last one to formally greet him.

“Your Royal Highness,” you curtsy with a small smile.

He acknowledges with a bow of his head and shocks you by holding his palm out.

“May I share a dance with you?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as you glance around the room to ensure he’s talking to you and not mistakenly someone else. Additionally, you’re surveying the prospects because you are definitely not the most worthy to dance with royalty; the mayor’s daughter should be owed this dance, not you. You also shamefully touch your work outfit, wishing you were wearing something cleaner and more extravagant.

“Prince Huang, are you sure you want to dance with me?” you murmur, despite how everyone quieted down and can hear what you’re saying.

“Of course,” he stretches out for your hand and possesses it in his.

“Who else would I want to share a dance with?”

Your friends and all other parties now disperse and surround the two of you, dancing to their own fulfillment as you’re left in an imaginary bubble with just Renjun. Every twirl, spin, and bounce generates endless vivacious laughter from the both of you. You dance deeper into the night until your faces and feet soon ache, until it was almost only the two of you on the dance floor.      

Because of the aching, you stumble at one point, crashing into Renjun’s body.

He catches you in his arms. You look up into his eyes, then at his lips merely fingertips away from yours. Renjun’s liquored panting fans your face and you drown in it without reservation.

His eyes flicker to your lips too, and he gulps. Bravely, he raises his palm to caress your cheek, but as his skin touches yours, it jolts you to your core, popping you out of your secluded bubble and dragging you into reality.

Pulling apart from him, the prince asks if you’re okay.

You nod thoughtlessly, quickly thank him for the dance, and spew that you should begin to clean-up the hall, leaving him on the dance floor.

Renjun brings a finger to his lips and watches you run off.  

The last evening of his stay finally arrives. In your nightgown before bedtime, forgetting to ask if he needed anything before you changed out of your work clothes, you knock on his room’s door with the guard on-duty beside it.

His muffled voice beckons you to come in, and you open the door ajar to creep your head through the space. Noticing it’s you, he immediately drops the book he was reading onto his bedside table.  

“Prince Huang, did you need anything else before you leave tomorrow?”

Legs dangling off the largest bed at the inn, he thinks to himself for a few moments. He twists his mouth to one side, tapping a finger on his chin.

“I think I have everything in order...”

Then, he tilts his head to one side and puckers his lips. He darts onto his feet and adds, “Can you come in for a moment though? And please shut the door behind you.”

You’re taken aback by his request. Nevertheless, you fulfill it and close the door behind you as you walk in. Renjun’s eyes widen at the sight of you in your nightgown, clicking together why you didn’t fully come into his room in the first place.  

You rub one of your arms. “Sorry for my indecent clothing—”

“No, I’m sorry, uhm,” he palms the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to say a few words, so I’ll be quick.”  

He steps closer to you. Both of you stand in the middle of the room and he continues.

“Before I leave, I want to make sure you know that I quite enjoyed my stay here because of you and your family’s fine service, but I enjoyed it even more because of your cordial company.”

At his earnest appraisal and personal compliment, your cheeks flare and your jaw dangles. You bow with your head. “Thank you, Prince Huang.”

Renjun then faces the floor and picks at his fingers, trying to formulate his thoughts.

“I don’t normally do this and I’m about to ask the following not as a prince, but as a normal man. And let me preface it by saying that, as a man of my word, you are not obligated or pressured to agree to what I’m about to ask; you have every right to say no.”

He sputters everything so fast, it takes a bit for you to process his words. When it sinks in, you’re still unsure exactly what he’s talking about. Worried, you raise your eyebrows, anticipating his inquiry.  

Noting your confusion, he exhales a lengthy breath and goes straight to the point.

“As a send-off and to demonstrate my gratitude…”

He meets your gaze.

“May I kiss you?”

Your jaw, along with your eyes, hangs this time. Awestruck, you blink rapidly and inhale sharply as you stay frozen in place.

“I know it may be one-sided, but at yesterday’s gathering, I thought we shared a special moment and perhaps it’s my fault I acted upon it since we were among people, so I apologize for that—”

“You may kiss me,” you cut him off, relieved to hear his thoughts, and close the space between yourselves.

It’s his turn to don the rapid blinking.

“Are-are you sure?”

Cautiously, his palm cups your cheek, mirroring the memory of last night, then he adds his other.

“Yes, Pr-”

“Renjun, please.”

“Yes, Renjun—”

You collide as he captures your lips. He exudes innocence and it shows in his kissing; he starts off gently and barely expands his mouth. Each movement is lovely and oozes affection. Your fingers tug lightly at his nightwear, body humming emphatically in response.

However, as he tests the water, his kissing is soon stripped of innocence and is replaced by a sinful hunger. While his tongue slips into your mouth, grazing against your teeth, his hands traverse your body and confront your waist and neck, squeezing them upon arrival. You eagerly reciprocate his change of pace, desperately running your fingers through his hair and angling your neck to better the searing, open-mouthed kisses.

Since there aren’t many layers covering either of you, you’re blatantly aware of Renjun’s growing desire against your body.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he pants, “May I take you to bed?”

You bob your head fervently and croak, “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

You grin into the next kiss at his playfulness.

“Yes, Renjun.”

In retrospect, being taken in a guest room at your family’s inn was strange, but you couldn’t think much of it within the moment.

At the moment, all you yearn for is Renjun’s weight on you, locking your body into the bed with his. Lip-locked as he lays you down, he satisfies your yearning hastily.

While he dominates your neck, one of his hands is rashly underneath your nightgown and ascends to the haven of your breasts. You gasp at the initial contact, your fingers tightening in his hair and over his shoulder blade.

He kneads the meat of your tits momentarily, but he’s more fixated on attending to your nipples. Renjun’s thumb tenderly rubs over them prior to his loving pinches. At this point, his mouth zones in and nibbles on your earlobe, so he listens to your rising panting and erotic moans crystal clear.

Following his massaging and playing of your other breast, he withdraws from you to disrobe your layer in one-go and you return the favour to peel away his.  

Renjun’s purity ignites once more as he reveres your bare body, lovingly scanning all your curves and lines.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers.  

Fluttering your eyelids, you lightly bite your bottom lip between your teeth. Truly, it was too easy for him to make your cheeks spark this often. He converges with your mouth sweetly before he wraps his pretty lips around your nub.

“Oh, my God, Renjun—”

Because your eyes snap in gratification, you can’t see the smirk on his face. He indulges in you calling him by his first name, especially so melodiously and within this context. A hand finds purchase upon the neighbouring breast, and another hovers under your warmth. Your hips buck heedlessly, begging for his fingers to dive further.  

They do so when he switches his embrace upon your breasts. Although you know he must feel it, the obscene, loud sounds of him fingering your sex confirm how wet you are for him. Renjun peeks an eye open to your wanton self. He adores the view in addition to your dripping pleasure contracting and spilling over his digits.  

Moving ahead, he retreats from you and mounts himself on the bed on his knees, stroking himself to harden himself for what’s to come. Despite still being breathless from your high, you rise onto your knees to match his stance in front of him.

Your dominant hand grasps his possession, taking over for him. Simultaneously, your mouth finally has the chance to reign over the smoothness of his frame—his neck, his carved clavicle, the expanse area of his chest, and his soft abdomen. He sighs blissfully, eyes batting.        

Your mouth proceeds lower to where your hand is located and aids to the swelling of Renjun’s desire. He gawks, mouth hanging, at the beautiful arching of your back and your enthusiasm as you engulf him.

Gripping him by the base, you stroke to the measure of your bobbing. To keep him enraptured, you occasionally focus on his tip, such as with the swirling and flicking of your tongue and initiating vigorous, targeted sucking. Not wanting him to reach climax yet, you pull away from him with a pop, but not before you leave a delicate kiss upon the glossy apex.

Once again, you recline downward onto the bed, except now with spread legs. Renjun pumps his wet length and lines it up with your glistening crevice. You stare at his cock upon penetration, and the flood of sensations from the impact causes you to crane your head into the pillow.  

Hands encompassing your waist, the lover thrusts gradually at first, allowing you to acclimatize to his girth. After some time, he surrenders to his carnal urges and plunges deeper with speed. Your chest heaves as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moons on his skin. Lowering himself, he secures your lips for a fleeting, sentimental moment.

To your surprise, Renjun picks up the rhythm even further, leading you to wail his name and incoherent noises repeatedly. In hopes to quell yourself, you lightly bite down on the meat of your index finger. It only partially helps since whimpers still trickle out from you.  

Both of you are nearing. Aching to be even more intimate with you, his hand flees from the flank of your body and over your head to lace his fingers with yours. His intertwining compresses alongside the pinching of his face. With your finger in pain, you release it and let loose. As one, you moan in sync with Renjun and you break together. He extracts himself, painting your stomach in white ribbons.  

Inhaling much needed air, you settle upon Renjun’s chest with his arm around you. He trifles with your fingers in his before he kisses the back of your hand.

“If you ever have the chance to come by the kingdom, I implore you to find me.”

Peering up at him, you agree enthusiastically. “Of course, Renjun.”  

With pink tinting over his face, he cups you by your chin.

“Promise?”

Hesitancy pumps through your blood. You know the chances of you ever leaving your home town would be very unlikely, and even if you could, you two could never be together for he is of royal blood, and you of none.

Nevertheless, you dare not to break the twinkling, awaited expression upon his face, so you reply—

“I promise.”

Sharing another kiss, you stay with him in the bed for a little while longer, savoring the brief amour as much as possible.

[pettyrevenge-base]

Continue to rub out my drawings? OK, have fun doing that every time with every resource.

This was a while ago, but the story came back when I dug up some old photos recently.

Back in Year 9 of school in the UK many years ago, we had formed an after school club that was supposed to be dedicated to Maths, but we all had much more fun than we were supposed to. Every time, the maths challenges were very exciting to solve, and honestly sometimes it made us feel like top-tier mathematicians. So we got roughly 10 minutes free time to do what we wanted before it finished for the week. Naturally we discovered that the one thing we all liked in common was Pokémon, so we held drawing contests on the whiteboards, about A4 sized. I chose Psyduck. Always did. Think I can draw a Charizard? Not a chance. But we showed Sir seeing as he liked them too and he let the winner put up his whiteboard drawing on the cupboard top for the week. It was lovely because most of the time my Psyduck won despite the fact it looked like a Mallard with a chopping board sewn to its face. Every time we wrote "Do not rub off- approved by teacher" to make sure, and universally that was the code for it was fine. Bear in mind there were 35 whiteboards to a class, and 32 students. It was always lovely to see my drawing up there for the week, especially coming back on Monday, or if not the others' because it was out of pure fun. Until that one day we got a new cleaner.

The following Monday in that classroom, the drawing was gone! I rummaged to see if it had fallen, it had not. I sought out the table next to me and its whiteboard stack, then saw the outline of the marker's path as these weren't new whiteboards, anything drawn and left on there was left on there when rubbed off too, only in the white of the surface. It was the outline of my drawing. "OK," I thought, "New cleaner doesn't understand. That's good. I'll let her know." And I did just that. I went up to her the next day and said "Hey, are you the new cleaner of our classrooms?" and she said "Yeah, what?" in her thick Yorkshire accent. "Oh it's just that the whiteboard drawings are permitted to stay up, they have been for a while. Please don't rub them off." "If ye've got a problem wi' me doin' me job, A suggest ye get that looked at" Beg your pardon? No, you're employed to do your job, sure, but respect it as well. I asked the Year group manager if he had told her to, as he was essentially in charge of telling the cleaners what to clean and the staff what to teach this week. "No," he said, "I think it's perfectly fine if it's 1 or 2 whiteboards. Besides, there's a surplus in every classroom. If necessary that's what they're there for." Alright then.

So every week we continued to draw our drawings with the aforementioned text and display it on top of the cupboard. Every week it would be rubbed off, and it started to take the piss. What a load of bollocks, especially when allowed.

So, starting then, I stood up for us and wrote a message on ALL 35 whiteboards. It read "So, you think it is funny to rub off our drawings even if permitted? Doing your job are we? Well, I'm going to make sure you're doing your job. Relax, I thought you enjoyed rubbing off these whiteboards. What's 34 more?" And the last one was a small drawing from all of us in the club- each our own interpretation of a donkey, because you know, ass and all. All 35 boards were placed on top of the cupboard and we left it there. We came in on Monday and they were all wiped clean and on their tables respectively. So we tested this out to see if she'd learnt her lesson. I drew a psyduck, left it on the cupboard, sure enough she wiped it off. So we wrote on all 35 boards again. This time it read "We thought you'd have understood this by now- our drawings are permitted. Looks like you're perfectly able to rub these off though. So we'll let you succumb to your hobby. Enjoy, we'll do this every time." And that we did. 8 times. The last time it was only drawings of bats, for "silly bat" and I believed that was enough. So yet again I drew Psyduck and to my surprise on the Monday back it was up there still! Finally, the message had got through. We continued to host the contest for the rest of the year.

TLDR: New cleaner at school who is rude rubs out our whiteboard drawings approved by teachers, so we use all the 35 whiteboards in the class to write a message for 8 times until she stops.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[sl-walker]

All right, since I’m in the middle of a flare and have to work manual labor for the next four days despite it, I figured I would make myself -- and hopefully other people -- laugh by talking about one of my favorite OG Captain Marvel stories. Namely, from Whiz #50, with a cover date of January, 1944, meaning it was probably produced sometime in late 1943.

I want to share it because why not, this is some absurdly charming stuff.

I’ll get more into why it’s one of my favorites as we go, in the form of running commentary. So, full story (with said commentary) under the cut. If you wanna just read the story without my commentary, stick to the pictures. XD

First, let me say that the cover and splash page definitely live up to the story, though the cover’s a bit more sensationalized. But the premise is pretty damn simple: Our intrepid hero and his newsboy alter ego are on vacation. Cap decides to go swimming. It goes hilariously wrong and thus ensues a bit of a madcap adventure, no puns intended.

Second, the fact that Cap and Billy are depicted as essentially different entities makes what Billy does next the ultimate trolling:

Gee, airing out the stolen laundry on the radio? Really? I’ll leave it up to you, gentle reader, whether Billy actually was trolling his own alter-ego for ratings or whether he was just innocently sharing the story while his other-self winced quietly in whatever ether-space he exists in when not front-and-center.

Either way, I love it.

Continuing on...

I get a kick out of the fact that Billy’s monologue is that he’s no dare-devil. One, because that’s so obviously not true in any way -- (that kid is awesomely, sometimes recklessly brave on the regular even without Cap) -- but two, because the bridge is actually named Dare-Devil Bridge. We aren’t given any reason why this dangerous potential death-trap is there, hanging without so much as a gate or a warning sign or anything, because we don’t need one. It’s there specifically for what happens next.

Which, of course, is Billy calling in Captain Marvel, who does some light complaining about the situation Billy left him in. There’s no bite to it, which I find adorable -- Cap actually does get frustrated once or twice in other issues with Billy calling on him for mundane stuff, though he’s never mean about it -- but there is a bit of the sense of being put-upon there that’s just-- I dunno, cute. It’s something I miss a lot in the various post-crisis takes on the character: That duality, that difference in personality, and the way each of them responds to different situations. Often, they’re on the same page, but notably, sometimes, they aren’t.

Someday, I promise, I need to sit down and write how I think that works between those two without being a truly frightening mental illness manifested, what with them being the same person but not the same person. Because I have so many ideas, and I’ve only had since the early-2000s to percolate them. LOL! But until then, just enjoy this.

Here is another reason why I love the Golden Age Captain Marvel books and why I love this specific story: This is an absolutely normal, mundane thing to do. It’s the human thing to do. These aren’t the actions of some super-serious superdude. These are the actions of a pretty shockingly normal guy doing something mundane. And a whole story is built around that normalcy.

It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s the reader already knowing that he’s getting himself into a situation that he absolutely could have avoided, but also completely understanding how it happened anyway. It’s pretty brilliant writing: I say this as a pretty damned good writer myself.

So much of the reason why, I think, Cap was so endearing as a hero is that humanity. He’s got pretty much god-tier power in the Golden Age, once his powerset is established. He’s utterly invulnerable to all physical harm while powered up. But-- he’s human. He knows he’s human. He acts like it, and decides, “You know what? I’m going skinny-dipping.”

He and Billy are both characters it’s so easy to empathize with.

Also, a reminder that the art under Chief Artist C.C. Beck is really, really good. (He had a whole stable of artists to help produce this stuff!) Ignoring registration issues on the printing press, the actual line art is amazingly good; proportion and perspective and consistency.

But anyway--Cap does get to enjoy his swim. But, then, oh no.

I love the idea of a world where the prime hero -- and he definitely is in that world -- can take off his suit and go swimming, and where someone else is bold enough to steal the damn suit off of him. The first time I read this, I started laughing here. Not at him, but at the situation he’s found himself in. At the idea that some random passer-by saw Captain Marvel’s costume and went yoink!

Another thing I love about this particular story is how much Cap and Billy have to work together, just by necessity. Like-- it’s just really good. But anyway, thank everything Billy Batson is on the ball, coming to the rescue.

Sheer bad luck via the weather keeps this story rolling along in hilarious misdirections. Realistically, that uniform probably wouldn’t be all buttoned together (we see Cap take off pieces of it aside the pants in other issues, including socks!), but who cares? The point of the story is that giant bear rug on the floor’s gonna get put to use.

Man, when have you ever seen Superman creeping naked through some stranger’s house wearing nothing but a random polar bear because he went skinny dipping? No wonder these comics sold so well. This next panel is when I start wheezing, though, and pretty much keep wheezing.

“A lady, too! I’ve got to get away from here!”

I’m dying at this point. That’s such a characteristic response, and yet, I think that’s why it’s funny.

Anyway, because this is an excellent story (I mean this without an ounce of irony, too), our dynamic duo stumbles across a plot in play to rob the hotel they’re staying at.

Here’s a big part of why this is such a good tale: Everything fits. Even when it isn’t explained, like Dare-Devil Bridge, it still fits. Why is the tree down? Because there was just a thunder storm, the same one that blew Cap’s suit into the room with the gangsters.

I don’t know if this is Otto Binder’s story, but I wouldn’t be surprised in the least. It’s a complete story told in relatively few pages that accomplishes everything it’s meant to.

Anyway, using foliage as cover, Cap gets to be heroic----then Billy gets to get back to the business of trying to stop the robbery of the hotel and get his heroic alter-ego dressed again.  Which leads to a rather adorable and funny scene of Billy not only trying to describe what Captain Marvel wears, but what size it would need to be tailored in.

(Cap is supposedly a 44 for a suit coat, we find in some earlier appearance, which would refer to his chest size.  So, an XL for shirts and suit-coats.  He’s a big guy, but he’s actually not a hulking huge guy.  But more on that later.)

I love the fact Billy tries to like-- use himself as a model.  Maybe in another ten years, kiddo.  Billy’s actually pretty buff for like a 12-14 year old, he’s not a scrawny kid at this point, but yeah, no.  LOL!

Another thing I also really, really love about this style, though, is that they draw Captain Marvel as being strong, as having a powerful build-- but not as a dehydrated body-builder with deep cuts. He’s got human proportions, regardless of his strength; he’s got a human build, not a superhuman one.

C.C. Beck had a lot of things to say about superheroes who were just muscles on top of muscles, all clearly defined, and he didn’t like it.  As someone who first got into comics in the early 90s with Jim Lee’s X-Men--

I do get Beck’s point.  I not only get it, but I really highly approve of it.  He maintained to the end that he drew (and oversaw) the Marvel family to look like high school and college athletes, and I can see that.  I think the one person who’s gotten it right in the modern era is Evan “Doc” Shaner, who did Convergence: Shazam!  He not only nailed that strong-but-not-hulking build for Cap, but also how young he looked.  College-age, in fact.

But anyway, enough digression into art and why I like this better than most modern takes on the character.  Also, that’s just a cute set of panels.

I also like that there wasn’t an easy fix there.  Cap’s still in his not-birthday suit, and Billy’s still stuck running around trying to solve the issues at hand.  Next comes some other really good panels:

-snorts-  He’s locked in.  Yeah, that’ll hold him.

Anyway, what I really liked here was again that tandem working; Billy can’t punch through a wall, but Cap can.  Cap can’t crawl out while he’s au natural -- well, he could, but he’d probably rather die first -- but Billy’s got no such issue.  It’s just fun when you get to see them doing something like that.  You have to really think for a minute about the trust each of them must have in their alter-ego.

ANYWAY, we get the rare treat then--

--of Captain Marvel not only yoinking a dude into a dark room, but then stealing his clothes.  Except, not his underwear.  Because that’s nasty.  LOL!

I love that in this series, you do actually get to see him wear other stuff.  Go incognito.  Get his red suit messed up enough to take it to a dry cleaner’s, wherein he ends up dressed like a musketeer after.  Jerry Ordway’s series is, I think, the only other time we see Cap not wearing his famous suit, but it happened enough in the Golden Age that it wasn’t a shock.

Like, I hate to be the one to say this, but I do think DC drops the ball often on just how much you can do with Captain Marvel (or Shazam, depending on timeline, but that’s the wizard’s name to me so mostly I’ll stick with the original name) if you unbend enough to.  It’s not just the costume change, or the duality of him and Billy being the same but not, but also his inherent, essential humanity.

But I am digressing again, sorry. XD  I just feel strongly enough about these versions of these characters to spend hours writing this.

Anyway, only a single panel later:

And that’s that!  Billy Batson has just outed his own alter-ego’s most embarrassing moment to whomever’s listening to WHIZ radio -- thank everything podcasts and the internet weren’t available then, ha! -- and we get to see a recounting of a very fun story.

Like I said earlier, I love this one for its essential humanity.  The hero got himself into this mess, he and Billy got him out of this mess, and stopping the criminals was actually just kind of a lucky stroke thrown in there.  But even though Cap got himself into this, the story never treats him like he’s stupid.  It never treats him like he’s some kind of idiot.  You’re laughing, but-- not in a mean way.

I love how human it is.  How complete it is.  How genuinely funny it is.  It’s a thousand times more funny when you genuinely love and respect Captain Marvel and Billy Batson, too.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this dissertation on a skinny-dipping hero.  LOL!  I enjoyed sharing it with you.

[iamdunn]

 Miraculous Flash Forward part 9: A New Dynamic

A Miraculous Fan-Fic

Written by

AJ Dunn

Adrien couldn’t wait to get back home and start making preparations. The trip to Paris hadn’t gone as badly as he was afraid it would. In fact, maybe he and Marinette could put their past behind them finally and start a life together. He had agreed to stay for the wedding since Marinette had gone through the trouble of making his Tux for him, and Nino wouldn’t have let him leave, he would have released Alya on him and that was frightening enough considering she had Trixx to back her up. Plus, Luka had Sass and he really didn’t need that kind of drama in his life. Honestly, he was happy he went. Even Nino saved a place for him after 5 years, in this case, the place of best man. 

“I will.” She had said. The memory of her words played in his mind as they swayed around the dance floor. She had agreed to be his roommate in Shanghai. She swore she didn’t want him to leave her and that she truly did love him. Plus, losing her roommate meant she was looking for a new one. He was certain though that his studio condo wasn’t going to be sufficient for them. She would need her own room and considering how flustered he made her, he would need a private room so she didn’t lose herself whenever he walked around without a shirt on. 

“Yeah, no more hanging out in the seating area in nothing but a towel,” Plagg said to him as they prepared to leave for the airport. 

“Who knows, I might occasionally forget and well…”

“You’ll be quickly reminded when she walks through the walls to get away from you.” Plagg laughed. Adrien laughed too imagining her overdramatic reactions. Adrien’s phone rang. 

“Are you sure about this Adrien?” Felix said. He had told his cousin he would need to upgrade his suite and asked for him to get him in touch with the management company. 

“Absolutely,” Adrien smiled. “I wouldn’t want her getting a cheap apartment, that neighborhood is bad news, besides, she still doesn’t speak Mandarin and I can’t have her getting lost here again can I? OH, and I am going to tell her about us.” His words came out so quickly he hoped his cousin would agree and not snap at him. 

“Do you trust her that much?” Felix sounded shocked. “Having her move in with you is one thing, but this affects us both.” 

“Yes, I do. Besides, if this is going to work, her and I can’t have secrets between us.” 

“It’s a shame she didn’t have a twin sister.” Felix scoffed. 

“What?” Adrien teased. 

“Nothing, never mind… shut up.” Felix snorted. “I’ll send them a message to call you.” He hung up. 

The flight back was a sleepless one as Adrien reeled over the idea that Marinette was coming to live with him. This will change everything. He tried to sleep but, listening to music, even tried doing some reading. Sleep didn’t come until he was back home in his own bed. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when his phone rang.

“Mr. Graham De Vanily?” the voice came over. “Ah, Mr. Graham De Vanily called and said you wanted to renegotiate your lease.” Adrien refrained from laughing. 

“Adrien please.” he laughed, “And my cousin, he’s just Felix.” It is still funny when people see them together, and they have the same last name, but then call each other cousins. A thing that had always been fun. “Yes, I want a larger unit.” 

“I’m afraid the only unit we have available larger than the one you are in, is our 3 bedroom two bath unit at the opposite end of your floor.” 

“That’s perfect.” He refrained from using his cattish terminology with such a business call. Although the excitement in him wanted to so badly. 

“Fine, I shall send the paperwork over immediately, I assume you want to make the transition before the end of the month? As that is when your lease is due to renew.” 

“Yes of course.” 

“Please get the paperwork back to us promptly.” A ding came through his phone the second he hung up. It was an email from the property management containing the digital documents that he needed to Esign and return. He made haste to finish the paperwork before heading out to see Cheng Sifu and check on the temple. The sky was clear as Adrien made his way home from Cheng Sifu’s restaurant with a sack of leftovers and a few grocery items he had bought on the way. By grocery items that meant cheese for Plagg. While Camembert wasn’t available here, Manchego had become his replacement. 

They leaped from rooftop to rooftop not worried about remaining unseen as he had before the reunion. It felt freeing to just be himself and not hide anymore. His students already called him Laoshi Mao, though they didn’t know why it wasn’t Laushi Adrien. Well, Mao sounded a lot better. He slipped through the balcony door and wondered what their new apartment would look like. He was sure all of the units on this floor had a balcony. His phone ran just as he entered the apartment and before he transformed. It was a video call. 

“Hello M’Lady,” he answered in his most cattish tone. She giggled then began swatting away at some unseen thing, most likely the Kwami’s. 

“They’re all excited to be moving and they have been trying to pack for me.” She giggled again. 

“Well, I am Pawsitively feeling clawssome about it too, M'Lady.” 

“You dork.” She laughed. “Detransform and feed Plagg.” She said playfully. 

“As you wish.” he let his transformation go as Plagg darted into the bag and began tearing at the plastic wrapper. “Hold on, this guy… “ he set the phone down and tried to wrestle the package from the nearly rabid creature. “Hold on, let me open the package at least, you’re going to kill yourself.” Marinette laughed at the ordeal. It was certainly going to be interesting having so many Kwami’s around. 

Adrien reached over, picking up the phone again as Plagg stole away the now open package. “You’d think I starve him.”

“So, how was your day?” she said in a melodic tune. 

“It would have been better if you were already here.” He said holding up a clear plastic container containing remnants of the Crab stew which had become one of his favorite dishes. The container had Cheng’s restaurant label on it.

“Did you tell him?” Her face went into a look of concern. 

“I’ll have you know I am a cat of my word,” he said nonchalantly. 

“Adrien?”

“Of course not.” A look of relief as she wanted to surprise him. She even insisted that her mother and father keep their tongue too. Threatening not to write or call for a week if they did. They were so happy for her to be moving to Shanghai, not to mention in with Adrien. Their faces lit up as they began discussing nicknames for grandkids. Adrien found the whole conversation unnerving at first but when he saw the looks on their faces, the pure joy, he felt grateful they were such wonderful people. 

He still hadn’t talked to Emelie despite her condition improving. Amalie maintained the radio silence as well after Felix had threatened to cut her out of his life completely if she didn’t give Adrien space. Though, Adrien hadn’t told Marinette about all of that mess yet. He was afraid it would scare her off and he wanted her to enjoy her time here before bombing her with it. 

Weeks had gone by as Adrien packed up his studio and shuffled all of his stuff into the new apartment. The Apartment opened up into the foyers, with a partial wall separating it from the living room. The kitchen to the right just like his old apartment had a counter divider with two bar stools on the living room side. The marble decor was the same as his old unit, taking into mind the carpeting in the living room stopped before the bar stools. The coat closet next to the front door was slightly deeper like a mini walk-in.  There was a small dining table situated by the windowed wall in the kitchen. It was twice the size of his last kitchen. 

He found the stairs to the loft in the same place however instead of an open bedroom area there were four doors. One was a bathroom and the other three bedrooms. The master bedroom, being nearly the size of his last unit, had its own bathroom with a walk-in shower and jet stream tub. The second and third bathrooms were on either side of the bathroom. Adrien decided to move his stuff into the smaller of the two rooms closest to the stairs so that Marinette could have the main room with her own bathroom. 

It only took him a week to clean out the old unit and clean it even though professional cleaners would be in to clean it properly. The unit was unfurnished but the furniture from the old unit was bought by Amelie so he had a few bell boys help him move it into the new unit. He had only to buy a bed for Marinette before she got there. He had Sabine pick out some furniture online and he ordered it. 

The two weeks flew by faster as he spent more time at the temple tutoring the youth. As well as his daily chores there.

A video call with Marinette came in very early in the morning, though it wasn’t that early where she was at. She had just arrived at the airport with her parents who were seeing her off. Her bags were checked and she was standing in front of the windows overlooking the runway. 

“I can’t wait to see you, Princess.” He said enthusiastically as he lay in his bed. He tried to not let her see he was in bed or that he didn’t have a shirt on, she’d be a mess and end up missing her flight. 

“Did I wake you?” She looked guilty 

“I wouldn’t have missed this call for anything Princess, you better get on that plane you let me down now.” he winked at her. 

“Don’t worry, that was her boarding call. We are putting her on the plane right now,” Tom said. Adrien chuckled as they hung up the phone. 

“I’m just surprised you love birds are going to be in separate rooms.” Plagg teased. “How long is that going to last?”

“Hey, you have your own room now, what are you harassing me for?” Adrien teased him.

“Actually that is going to be Marinette’s sewing room, right?” Plagg had a point. 

“I mean, when she gets here, you can start staying in the miracle box with the others.” 

“Too cramped. I need to stretch my legs and be free.” Plagg folded his arms behind his head as he hovered over the bed. Adrien copied him as he lay in his bed. His phone ran again, this time it was Felix.

“I’ll be coming to Shanghai today, I am at the airport now.” He sounded rushed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Adrien asked. It meant he would be on the same plane with Marinette. His stomach balled up. 

“A last minute showing of some new designs and they can’t seem to be able to agree on one.” Felix said something to the boarding clerk. “I need you to attend with me.” 

“I have classes, I can’t cancel them, plus I am now tutoring some of my students.” Adrien complained. It made things worse that he wouldn’t be able to spend time with Marinette. 

“I’m sure we can arrange the viewing for after your classes or before. What time is your fist class and last class….” He paused. “You know what, we can discuss that when I get there.” his voice had changed from rushed to pleasant and happy. Damn, did he see Marinette, is he sitting with her? Adrien’s anxiety tightened on his chest as he laid back against his pillow. 

After a long and nerve wracking day, Adrien stood at the airport waiting for both his cousin and his...friend? He hadn’t bothered to change his clothes after he finished at the temple, so he was still dressed in his yi-fu. He decided to wait near the baggage claim so he could help grab her luggage. Felix would likely have one bag and it was probably a carry on. Adrien saw her bags first and grabbed up. She had a lot as he had expected, they were pink with darker pink polka dots, no surprise there. As he finished loading them on a luggage cart he heard Felix’s voice. 

“Are you serious Marinette, that would be great.” Felix sounded excited, a tone he didn’t use very often. Adrien could feel the heat in his face as he tried to compose himself before turning around to greet them. 

“Adrien.” Marinette exclaimed as he turned around to catch her as she leaped into his arms. He spun her around holding her tightly and making a big show of it. “Look who found me on the plane, he wants me to come with you two to the fashion showing this afternoon.” Adrien feigned a smile. While Marinette was the fashion expert between the three of them, he wasn’t sure if his cousin’s intentions were pure, or if he was competition. 

“So, I hope you got that sare bedroom made up for me…” Felix leaned in to whisper. “Brother.” Adrien’s face burned even more now, said spare bedroom was right next to her room and well, was empty. 

“Sure, if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” Adrien laughed as they loaded up in the car. Felix pulled out his phone and made a call. 

“I need a spare bed set up in the Graham De Vanily room, you’ll know which room.” Adrien was amazed at how resourceful his cousin was. This is why he is the primary controlling party for the company.  The ride back to the apartment in the Taxi was cramped with Marinette wedged between Adrien and Felix. Adrien, being clearly larger than his twin, though not too much. Marinette let out a loud yawn so Adrien threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her head into his chest casting a possessive glance to Felix, who simply smirked back to him. 

The Bus boys carried her bags to the suite. 

“I don’t know about you two, but I am famished.’ Felix said, “Shall we step out for dinner?”

“That sounds great, we should go to Thousand Delights?” Adrien smiled at her excitement. 

“Are you okay to go, Marinette,” Adrien asked “You were nearly falling asleep in the plane, you might need a nap.”

“Nonsense. She’s fine.” Felix swooped a hand over her shoulder and led her back to the curb. “Shall I call a driver to come get us, less cramped than a taxi.” Competition is then. Adrien scowled. 

“If my accommodations aren’t sufficient for you, COUSIN,” Adrien slid his arm around her waist tugging her to his side and out of Felix’s hands. “You are welcome to make your own. Felix’s smile was one of mischief as he let his arm fall from her shoulders. Her face froze in a ‘what just happened’ expression. A few minutes later a mini black limo arrived and the driver moved quickly to open the door.

“Lady’s first.” Felix insisted then slid in after her. Adrien ran to the other side to let himself in next to her. Once again, Marinette was trapped between the two, though Adrien focuses on the fact, she would be staying with him when Felix returned to Paris. 

“Where’s your ring?” Adrien finally asked, having noticed his hand free of it when his arm was around Marinette.

“I uh, Amalie,” he choked. “They want yours as well to get them refinished or something.” Adrien slipped the ring off his finger and handed it to Felix.

“I don’t know what Amalie and Emelie want with them, but they have no meaning to me.” Adrien turned to the window.

“Ooookay.” Marinette’s voice broke through the awkwardness. “Amalie? Emelie? Not mother?” 

“It’s a long story.” Felix said, patting her knee. 

“Well, tell me tonight, when we get back?” Marinette’s voice was so sweet. Adrien was glad didn’t didn’t stumble over her words like she did when they were younger, now he could have a real conversation with her and actually know the true intentions of her words. 

“We will have plenty of time to talk about that Marinette,’ Adrien smiled at her as he put his arm around her shoulders again, “But let’s just have some fun first,” He kissed her forehead, casting a glance to Felix. The thought of telling her made his stomach clench and he could tell it was difficult for Felix too. Not exactly something that comes up in casual conversation.

Cheng Sifu was excited to see him, but his confusion over the “Cousin” kept him constantly glancing back and forth between them. Felix and Adrien smiled at him, then they both laughed.

“Cheng Sifu, we get that all of the time, our mothers are identical twins as well.” Adrien didn’t mean to add that, but it was too late. 

“What he means is, we share the Graham De Vanily twin genes.” Felix to the rescue, casting a scowl at Adrien. “Which means.” smiling at Marinette, “When we have children, our wives will bear us twins.” Adrien caught the wink in his eye. 

“Well, I don’t think we need to worry about you having any children any time soon Felix,” Adrien leaned back in his seat as his empty bowl sat in front of him. He wrapped an arm around Marinette, “You have to have a girlfriend first.” He gave Marinette a gentle squeeze and a smile.

“Oh.” Felix said, putting his napkin down on the table. “And you do? I thought she was just a friend?”

“Yeah, she is.” Adrien smiled at her. “A girlfriend.” He placed a quick kiss on her startled lips. Making a show of it before Felix could question if he even had a chance. Adrien knew Marinette had loved him since day one, even though she only knew the facade his father created, but he loved her for her. 

“I see.” Felix’s tone seemed to have a playful melody to it. “I’m happy to hear that.” Cheng Sifu began to play his happiest of songs on his accordion. 

“I always knew the two of you would be together someday.” A joyful tear fell down his cheek. 

[maruzzewrites]

(Every breathe you) Take #1

Hello! This is what was supposed to be the April’s Fool fic but I didn’t write it in time. It’s an Actor AU in the “universe” of EBYT. All nice and cool. Not real content warnings.

You looked down at your car’s clock. It was barely late afternoon, maybe he was in class. You let the phone fall onto the passenger’s seat, and continued to drive.

“Cut!”

The director shouts. Your shoulders go lax and the tension melts over your back, making you slump over the fake car seat. You stretch as everyone around starts to walk around, taking props and placing them outside the set. You climb out and look around to see your fellow actors, all gathered somewhere just outside the current scene.

You try to catch up with them, but you are stopped halfway. You almost trip over some cables on the ground when your manager calls you. She rushes to grab your arm, and you can see the burning desire to reprimand how clumsy you can be. She decides against it, yanking you straight and clearing her throat.

“You remember you got an interview today, right?” Her question is simple and, luckily, you do remember. Having an acting role is a new thing to you, especially with the role of the protagonist, and you did mess up a bit at the start. You are so used to minor roles or filling other positions around the set that you needed a bit to pick up the pace.

“Of course,” you answer. You see she is about to speak again, you even know about what: you need to plan what to say and what to omit during this interview. But you really don’t want to think about it, not with the filming being finished for the day. You will catch up later, “I will see you later. I need to do something…”

Before she can protest, you march away towards your colleagues. They’re now outside the building to allow some of them a quick smoke break, and they welcome you in their little circle without any problem. You look at each of them, and you find it hilarious how similar they are to their own characters – without the threatening auras, of course.

“So,” you cross your arms, “do you guys know what to say in this interview?”

 “Excuse me,” One of the reporters raises his hand, a pen between his fingers. You look up at him and ask him to ask whatever he wants. He grins, “Thank you. So, can you tell us anything more about the idea behind this show?”

“Well,” you start and look around the other actors to see if someone wants to speak instead. No one even attempts, so it’s in your hands, “I was said it was supposed to be about normalcy and what it means in a dangerous place. The director has experience with people who are called not so legally to clean at strangers’ houses and wanted to show it more.”

The reporter thanks you for the answer, even seems to want to ask one more, but someone else jump on the occasion to inquiry, “Did you choose it because of the premise? It seemed like a difficult role for a new actor.”

You think about it a bit, “I liked the premise. It’s dark and I don’t know if I can fake falling in love more than being scared. These goons make it rather easy, too.”

You point at them with your thumbs; some of them chuckle, some of them roll their eyes, some seem more embarrassed than anything. You hope you haven’t offended them too bad – it’s not your fault they really look rather menacing at times.

“Means we are good actors,” Formaggio chimes in, grinning like a fox. He turns to you and points a finger, “You too. Sometimes I really think we are intimidating you. The first time you saw Risotto, you looked like you saw a ghost.”

Some of the people in the room giggle at that, while Risotto pouts a little at the observation. The poor man can’t help his appearance or his size, and you came to understand he is one of the calmest and nicest people in that group. To avenge him of this direct insult, you decide to tease Formaggio a bit, “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who looks like he belongs in an actual gang, here.”

The joke makes even the imperturbable Prosciutto crack a smile, along with the sneer from Illuso at Formaggio’s frown. You even see the next reporter barely contain a laugh when she raises her had to speak, “You seem to get along quite well. Do you find it interesting to work with your colleagues on this project?”

The question is general, but you figure you talked enough for all of them. When a second too much of silence lingers, Melone is happy to jump in, “I enjoy it quite a bit! I barely get the opportunity to work with people who are so funny.”

“Really?” Ghiaccio almost yells, before he can reign in his tone. His inside voice is still loud, but it borders a stage whisper, “Because you’re really annoying during breaks. You say the most inane things and we’re supposed to just take it.”

Melone smiles, affable, “As I said, funny. You’re all entertaining. I get why you would become actors!”

Someone in the public clears his throat and then stands up to speak. Doesn’t really wait for his turn, but no one seems to mind besides turning around in their seats to look at him. He asks, “How did you come to accept your parts? You seem like a very varied bunch.”

The others look at each other, then Prosciutto takes the stage, “Formaggio tried for the role before us, then told us about the auditions. I assume we were just the right fit for the characters.”

The reporter nods and then looks at you with expectation. You don’t have quite the same story to them, “I… I just wanted to try for a big role, for once. I was told I had the face for the story, even if now I knows it means being somewhat average.”

A bit of an awkward silence before someone – Melone, specifically – intervenes, “I don’t think you are average or plain. You just give a friendly vibe.”

You smile at him just when Illuso decides to speak up, “That’s a nice way to say homely.”

He gains a light punch in the arm since he is sitting right next to you, which makes him chuckle and pretend to fall over on his chair. Ghiaccio, sitting at his other side, shoves him almost violently when they are close to touching. Risotto tells them to calm down.

“Do you have anything to tell us about the future of the show?” A reporter takes advantage of the ruckus to ask before anyone else can. He looks at every actor for a handful of seconds each before elaborating, “Fans really want to know what’s coming up in the near future.”

You ponder on answering that one question. You don’t let anyone chime in before you take your decision, explaining, “I don’t think we can reveal too much, but what’s coming is probably obvious. You know about stories with gangs. There may be something surprising to it, maybe.”

The reporter nods and waits patiently. You just shoot him a kind smile and you can almost see the disappointment coloring his face. You were told not to speak too much about the future plot, direct orders from the director and your manager – who was very eager to let you know how much you needed to shut your mouth.

The reporter evidently knows when to drop it because he doesn’t prob further. The rest of the interview goes smoothly, with jokes and teasing, with answered questions. People are really curious about the show despite being so grim, but you appreciate the fans.

At the end of the whole thing, you wonder what you will read the following days in online articles from those reporters.

 “Have you seen the new theories? People are really quick to take every ounce of info they can get from exclusives.” Melone scrolls his phone right before leaving it inside the pockets of his jacket, ready to put on his outfit.

You hum in response, too busy rereading the script for the episode. You hope you will finish quickly so that you go somewhere and eat with your colleagues – it’s been a while since your last lunch together. It may or not be because you end up giggling during the most tense scenes, during the first few takes.

Melone leaves you alone, wishing you good luck for the first scene of the day. You take a deep breath and replay it in your mind, trying to visualize it.

Going back home after a stressful day. After having to play a game of cat and mouse with dangerous men, wanting nothing more than a doll in their hands. You feel the tension harden your muscles, your shoulders and back stiff with anxiety.

You are a cleaner dealing with something too big for you, and you return to that house.

[sor-vette]

four, circus!! (index/description)

☜ three, an all-out fight club!!

☞ five, dots!!

t/w: dead bodies, mention of overdose

"This has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever seen," Yoongi thinks to himself as he blankly stares at Jimin, transferring the PPT file to the projector.

123 slides in "Reasonable arguments as to why we should date, _̵͚̾͌_̶̢̛̘̅͛̕_̶̡̧̝͗̒̋̌̚_̴̮̒̍̿̃͠ .

"Wrong PowerPoint bro," Jungkook grunts with closed eyes. No doubt the idiot had tried to stalk you throughout the night. It's been three days since Erik had officially enrolled.

Namjoon also has his eyes fixed on the projector, his expression giving nothing away.

"Resigned to death, poor bastard, as you should."

Jimin momentarily looks behind him to see why Jin had started to snort in laughter before scrambling to choose another file.

56 slides in "What do we know about Erik and what to do about it?"

"The title could be less verbose," Jin remarks, spinning his chair around the room.

"You're one to talk, literally," Jimin sneers but, there is very little malice in his voice if any. Besides Namjoon, V and Hope, who actually stuck to his word of minding his business, Yoongi didn't know anyone personally in the room. Though he sure has heard of the connections they had with you. Each weirder than the other.

Namjoon, the CEO, the one who went overboard in commitment and scared you off. Rumour was he offered marriage before the first "I like you." But that as well could be bullshit.

Hope, with the most cordial contact out of all. And also the most distant. You two had fundamentally different perceptions of how the world worked. Incompatible match, as the saying goes.

Jin. Despite the grandeur of his character, Yoongi knew very little of him. Even less as to why you left. He presumed the lack of commitment on both sides.

Jimin, the almost. For five months Yoongi had to hear nothing but coy whispers of just what good friends you two were. What good time you both had jumping back and forth from Paris and home. And then with zero explanation, you weren't. Every once in a while, he'd see the two of you in the hallway. Working hard to suffer through an exchange of pleasantries between long awkward pauses. The whispers had been effectively stomped to death, with no one the wiser as to what the hell had happened.

V, the one you hated and the one who hated you. How the two of you even met was beyond anyone's understanding. How you didn't rip each other's throat out even more so. Why he was here? God only knew.

And the last one, JK. Your trainee before Erik. The one who'd shamelessly bounced, leaving you in the dust when the enrollment came with a nary of thank you. After that, you officially joined the cleaner department and largely went missing from the public eye.

And, of course, Yoongi himself. The only official boyfriend. The one who officially broke both of your hearts.

"If all of you could please focus!" Jimin snapped, standing with a wad of paper in hand, waving it like a teacher in front of particularly annoying group of students.

"He even made notes," Namjoon whispered faintly.

"More like a manifesto," Yoongi snickered, letting his eyes wander over the sheer thickness of the file.

"Silence!" For a split second, Yoongi wanted to make a jab about a chihuahua being able to bark, but having considered his own height, he chose to be silent.

"So, let's start with basics. Erik Genyer. Joined two and a half years ago through a recruitment agent. He's 24, lived in Seattle before moving here. No known parents or siblings." Jimin recounted with ease.

"I hope you didn't look through his records," Namjoon frowned at the screen. "Because I did not authorize that."

"Does it count as looking if it's a brief glance?"

"Yes."

"And yet here you are benefitting from it." Namjoon could only breathe through his nose a tad harder.

"Why are you telling us this?" Jin interjected. "Mr CEO here could just give us his file - we'd read for ourselves."

"I will not. That's against company policy."

"And what you're doing here is completely legal and non - invasive." Jin raised his eyebrows, not phased even in the slightest that he was much below Namjoon's position.

"Silence!" Jimin yelped again at the front. "Has anyone here worked with Erik?"

"Hope definitely has," V piped up from his seat, looking as uninterested as one could. Yoongi narrowed his eyes at him. V took the piercing glare in stride, haughtily turning away.

"Well, yes but..." Jimin shuffled on the stage almost awkwardly. "He has strictly declined the invitation to our little... boy band."

"Wait does that mean he could tell _̸̢͉̦͔̣͈̱̅́́̓͊̇̂̓́̕͝ͅ_̸̨̙͚̻̬͖͉̻͔̑̓͐͜ - I mean R.D.?" Jungkook suddenly asks, eyes wide. Even Yoongi blanched at the thought. Everyone straightened in their seats. This was all fun and games until the moment you knew. Oh, you'd rip each and every one of them a new asshole. All of them could kiss goodbye to any attempt of trying to mend bridges. By that point, there wouldn't even be a river stretching underneath.

"I sincerely hope not." Jimin whispers and they sit in a moment of silence, weighing the risks.

"Heh, hope not." Jin suddenly gives a breathy laugh solely to be met by a general aura of disapproval.

"It's not funny." Namjoon scolds slightly but, Jin being Jin, openly looks him into eyes and goes -

"I know."

Amidst the banter, JK raises his hand shyly.

"I trained with him for a short while."

"And what is he like?" Jimin's eyes almost sparkled at anyone giving an actual insight.

"He must be wearing contacts or something," Yoongi mused, pushing the cap of his water bottle around the table. He knew Jimin to be attractive. No one in the entire company would shut up about it, nevertheless, something about him seemed almost supernatural.

JK shrugged in response.

"A bit rude and careless but talented. He finished training early."

"Did it seem like he was particularly going after her?" Namjoon interrogated further. There was a deep scowl of resentment on his face.

"Uhh, no. I think he was interested in the cleaner department in general. Apparently, he spent most of his orientation there."

"He also spent a month in surveillance. Did you speak with him...V?" If V was surprised by Jimin addressing him personally, he didn't show it as he continued to inspect his nails.

"Didn't even know he was there."

"Why did he stay so long in the cleaner department?" Yoongi asked as he ran over the information on the screen. Besides the already mentioned month in surveillance and a week in networking and relations, this Erik hadn't even tried to apply anywhere else.

"Poor communication skills. I had to throw him out. That's why he was only there a week." Jin explained.

"So you spoke to him?"

"Well, no, Irina," he was interrupted by a hollow thud. Without prompt V had dropped his steel thermos onto the desk, tea splattering everywhere and staining JK's jacket in the process. Both of them fumbled to clean it up with anything they could. V dabbed the desk harshly, the wood creeking at every aggressive wipe. Yoongi saw Jin looking sideways, the same confused expression echoed on his face.

"Well, as I was saying, Irina, R.D.'s friend, I'm sure you're familiar, came to me, said he was causing trouble and asked to refer him."

"And you sent him to R.D.?"

Jin gave a deeply suffering sigh.

"No, I did not send him. I referred him to general management and they gave him to the cleaners ."

"Ok, I get all of this. But what are we supposed to do about him?" Namjoon interrupted, jaw set in a tight grip.

Jimin fell silent at the front of the room.

"Yeah, this was the main question." Yoongi thought bitterly.

It was all a question of ethics, wasn't it? JK could pretend all he wanted to be above it all, to be respectful but then he trailed secret circles around you. Whether from guilt or perhaps a sense of entitlement. Yoongi didn't know or really care. Nevertheless the kid clearly had a hard time differentiating between what he said and what he did. Yoongi was however surprised to see Namjoon be so eager. He quite fancied making himself bald from worrying about the nature of evil. Just how easy it was to hide it behind big aspirations of providing aid. But it seemed as of late all of that was tossed aside.

Jimin was the one who orchestrated this in the first place, and so naturally, everyone looked at him for guidance. He was still shuffling around, nervously fiddling the blue pen.

"Well, first of all, I think we should talk more to R.D." A huff passed around the room.

"Talk to her?" V asked sceptically, mouth set in a straight line and heavy wrinkles carved between brows.

"Do you have any idea how difficult that would be?"

"Certainly it would be for you," Yoongi snarled, earning a harsh glare.

"Listen, at the end of the day, it's not really about us trying to force her into something. It's just to make sure... she's living a safe life. Well, the safest that's possible." Jimin said with enough sincerity to trigger certain insecurities within Yoongi and by the look of it also Namjoon.

It was no secret that between the seven, they were the most possessive over you. Both having the wrong idea that you were theirs. Which is why you left and why you probably were so caught up in Jimin. The purity and sheer selflessness of his sentiments acted like a punch to the gut. The genuine care that he reflected like a sun made the raw wound in Yoongi's chest seep even more. To be loved like that would be a dream come true. Yoongi shifted his attention to the laminated floor.

"We talk to her, find out what her life is like, keep a close eye on what Erik does. Talk to other cleaners about him, and once we find out, she's happy. That's. The. End. Of. That." There was no uncertainty. Jimin was dead serious.

The meeting was adjourned, quite amicably actually, but Yoongi knew that the rest of them had ulterior motives and plans. He had them too.

Jin and JK were no threat. Both were too uncertain of what to do with you.

Jimin had some deep-seated self esteem issues. Despite his 123 slide presentation, the way he spoke made it clear. That's probably why the abrupt parting, Yoongi mused. Both of you most likely shared the same anxiety about not being good enough for the other.

V was just V.

Namjoon was the only one Yoongi was truly worried about. Even from looking at his back, walking headstrong up the stairs, Yoongi could see how stubborn Namjoon was. In a way, it was like looking in a mirror. The possessiveness, the mulish mindset. They'd saw you, all of you and had decided that this was it. Yes, Namjoon would certainly be the toughest rival. However, Yoongi was very good at playing the long game. Especially if he wanted something so bad it felt like his thorax slowly being ripped out.

All that was left was Hope. But he wasn't even a viable player. After all, he hadn't even shown up.

***

"Why the fuck is he so heavy?" Erik grunted, swaying left and right and holding onto his dear life to the bagged pair of legs.

"Rigor mortis...set in," you huffed in answer, from the upfront of the body. "At least he wasn't rotting already. That's just nasty. 1, 2, 3."

Both of you lift the body into the van and let the poor bastard drop with a soft thud. Sweat pooled underneath your white hazmat suit with plastic glasses digging straight into your brain. You banged hard against the "EMT" van, and it drove away, carrying Dr. Martin Leyster to the morgue.

Should the neighbours see anything, it was a sad story of a depressed psychiatrist accidentally overdosing on his own meds. The evidence of him manipulating his most vulnerable patients into bankruptcy erased in you any stray feelings of sympathy though.

"You have the peroxide?" You rifled through the cleanup bag, but instead of answering, Erik began to actively point somewhere behind your back. A cold chill ran up your spine as you realize someone has been watching you stuff the body in the trunk. It quickly dissipates when you see a familiar smile.

"Hard at work, I see," Hope whistled, bounding towards you more like a kid on a school trip, rather than what the reality was.

"May I borrow your mentor for a bit?" He asked politely, still smiling up at Erik. There was no warmth in his expression.

"You are after all now an official member of the cleaner crew. Surely you can handle this on your own."

Erik looks at you for a moment before giving a loud sigh and trudging back to Leyster's office, the white toolbox angrily swishing back and forth in his hand.

Without hesitation, you remove the glasses from your head, revelling in the ease of pressure. Hope had stopped smiling altogether, looking quite pensive.

"What brings you here?" You ask lightly. To see him here is not worrying per se, but certainly interesting. He gives a quick shrug.

"Nothing much. Wanted to see how you were doing after that runt's little stunt." You only laugh at the shallow animosity. Erik's talent to drive people out of their patience was truly remarkable.

"I'm doing fine. You know... working. What about you?"

"I've been working as well."

You both fall silent.

"You ever thought about leaving the BH?" He suddenly asked, and you quirk a brow at the question.

"Not particularly. Have you?" Hope focuses a blank gaze at the grey walls of the multi-story apartment complex.

"A little bit. Last few days especially." You stand in muted shock. Hope was the last person you thought would quit. He was, without doubt, the most devoted, the most passionate out of all the hundreds of employees. He lived for the cause, he himself said so. And yet now he stood uncertain in front of you. Not really the bright and friendly Hope everyone knew, not really the strict and somewhat terrifying training teacher. He was just...quiet. It was an upsetting scene.

"Do you want to go for a drink or a lunch, maybe?" You offer, reaching for the zipper of the white suit. Yes, Erik could handle this on his own. He was a big boy. Hope hastily placed his hand atop of yours, pausing the movement. Even through the fabric, it radiated warmth. No wonder people called him sun. He frowned at the conjoined hands, lightly stroking his thumb over your knuckles before lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"No, no. I don't want to burden you with my problems." You didn't believe his smile for a second.

"Well, I won't steal you away for much longer, the pup might get anxious." He turned around, by the looks of ready to sprint off.

"Hey, wait!" He paused, not looking back.

"Do you why JK has been stalking me?"

"He has?"

He had. The first time you noticed a shifting figure in the background, you wrote it off to the combination of hangover and exhaustion. The second time he'd run off into the night faster than you could catch up. The third time you nearly flung yourself off the roof when seeing a pair of doe eyes staring back at you from an empty apartment building.

"There isn't like an alliance going around between some of my... acquaintances?" Truth be told, you found the very idea ridiculous, but it had wormed its ugly way into your brain and was now near impossible to get out. JK, Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon wouldn't even get along with each other. Even though those four were most likely to meddle in your business. However, if looking realistically, it was probably just your paranoia taking an intensive round. Seeing suspicious cars, watchful eyes and snooping noses where there were none. Hope threw you a sardonic smile.

"That would just be stupid."

(a/n)

In this story people have their names and codenames and will be often used interchangeably. It all depends whether in the story the POV character knows the names of others or not.

[ganymedesclock]

So... What do you think about revisiting Danny phantom in general? Revisiting the fandom I've noticed a lot of fanfic that have Danny's parents finding out his deal rather violently, or generally having more violence/angst than the original show..

I’m assuming you’re sending me this ask because of my recent burst of Danny Phantom art, so, it’s probably not a surprise to say I’m doing a certain amount of revisiting myself, and certainly not about to shame anyone else for it. It was a very dear cartoon to me in many ways and left some enduring hallmarks on my own writing, and I can absolutely understand people feeling the same way.

That said, as someone who’s been in this fandom for a while, albeit quietly- there certainly is a thread of macabre interest in fandom spaces, one I don’t always know that I agree with, especially when it comes to the Fentons.

My personal verdict on the Fenton parents specifically is I think they are not handled fairly by canon. This is a problem that Danny Phantom as a show shares with Fairly Odd Parents, though I would argue the Turner parents in FOP are quite a bit worse at this.

Roughly, I think how the Fenton parents are canonically depicted suffers from a phenomenon that affects many parts of the show: DP, as a series, has a bit of a sense of confused priorities between comedy and drama, and as a result, what’s 'real’ in-universe and what’s “just supposed to be a joke”. The kind of humor that DP tends to spring for is exaggerated or shocking behavior- it also tends to be a humor that hinges on the idea that other people are generally inconvenient to the main character. So humor-characterization is inconsistent here- Jack is negligent until it’s more inconvenient to depict him as overbearing (see: Girl’s Night Out and other cases he desperately wants to bond with Danny) he’s a recluse only loved by his wife until it’s more inconvenient to depict him as having an active social life (Masters Of All Time and that he and Maddie are going to a themed party so they’re dressed ‘weirdly’ in public)

A big victim of this is Jack’s sense that ghosts aren’t people and his desire to dissect them. Because here is the thing: it’s all talk, in the worst way. It hinges on the idea Jack- someone who knows enough of what he’s doing that along with Maddie and, in the past, Vlad- ripped two different holes in reality hard enough to permanently alter someone’s relation to undeath- has never seen a ghost before the series as he says in Mystery Meat.

The series has a big problem where it hinges on the Fentons’ inventions and expertise but also wants to treat them like idiots constantly. And if you notice how much I’m talking exclusively about Jack- that’s part of the problem. Maddie, in many ways, outside of episodes that throw her a bone, despite constantly being told by people she’s too good for Jack, is really treated as an extension of Jack. Masters Of All Time even suggests that her choosing Jack in the first place was just a path of least resistance between her two college friends, and she’d have married whichever one stuck around. 

The Fentons are not respected as experts, so Jack is given his ignorant line about dissecting a ghost. The Fentons need to remain exaggerated, ridiculous, an inconvenience to Danny- so they threaten his alter ego and point guns at him, but this is funny and not serious and not a reason to be worried about them as parents, because they are not on Danny’s level. Nobody is ever on Danny’s level. There is literally an episode called The Ultimate Enemy. The antagonist is an evil future Danny. The only person who could ever be Danny’s ultimate nemesis is Danny himself. 

And when the series stops milking the Fentons for jokes about how they’re so stupid and how Jack is an idiot and Maddie married that idiot but even she doesn’t respect him even though she loves him and dutifully follows him everywhere and god how can these people care about ghosts they’re so ignorant and out of their league- 

-then it kinda shuffles its feet awkwardly and goes, yeah. the Fentons love each other, and love their kids.

Yeah, Jack has framed photographs of Maddie, Jazz, and Danny on his personal workstation.

Yeah, in Mystery Meat Jack was seriously debating walking away from his lifework because it upset one of his kids. 

Yeah, every time in canon the Fentons find out Danny’s secret they’re immediately all in supporting him.

Yeah, even not knowing it’s Danny, Jack has an amiable conversation with him in Million Dollar Ghost and the ghost containment units designed by the Fentons get some jokes about that they’re a little cramped but they aren’t horrifying prisons of inhumanity- and as soon as Danny Phantom the ghost boy has a good point, Jack lets him go on purpose. 

Yeah, Jack is a competent ghost hunter who can take on Skulker and win as well as beat down the giant lake monster Skulker brought with him in Girls’ Night Out and would do this in a heartbeat, no jokes and no sidetracks, because that monster just chewed on his baby boy and nobody does that to his baby boy.

Yeah, Maternal Instinct is an entire episode of Maddie throwing hands with (or deceiving and manipulating) literally anything she thinks was responsible for getting Danny in this dangerous situation.

...And then the series says “but that’s not funny! Here, have jokes about the Fenton Stockades, that exist and have spikes and Jack wants to put his kids in them for time out, when the spikes apparently don’t hurt given Jack is not injured for being put in there. Here, have a joke about Jack attacking Jazz with a vacuum cleaner because he gets hellbent on the idea she’s possessed for no good reason. Here, have an uncomfortable joke about how badly Jack Fenton wants to vivisect a ghost while it screams. Funny funny funny. Why- why are you flinching?”

It basically creates a comedic situation where the show is constantly winding up like it’s gonna punch you- with the idea that the Fentons are bad parents and this has consequences for Danny and Jazz personally- and then laughs in your face if you flinch. It’ll never actually punch you- but it will sure keep swinging its hand really close to your face and laughing at your reactions.

This is, I’m just gonna say- one of the worst elements of the series, this weird relationship it has with “hahaha are we depicting an abusive family or not? ;)” where its actual point is that Jack Fenton is a person who should be shamed for being overzealous, for caring about this niche field, because nobody cares about ghosts! (unless the entire premise of the show does) Nobody wants to think about ghost science! That’s LAME! (unless Vlad does it)

So I think ultimately this creates a polarizing experience in the fandom. What part of this information do you take?

Do you take, say, my personal approach, which is: 

“Hey, so it’s pretty clear and consistent that the Fentons love their kids and wouldn’t hurt them. The Fentons are nice people. They can be obsessive or headstrong but there’s nuanced and salient ways to examine this in the basic framework that they care, both about their family specifically, and in general- and while I think they can have flaws or conflicts with their kids, and with ambient ghosts in the world, I really don’t think they’re in danger of torturing a sapient entity in their basement and it frustrates and annoys me that canon ‘makes a joke’ of them doing these things because it thinks they’re so incompetent that these things are not really malicious actions, when- whether or not you successfully shoot them, it takes a certain kind of person to point a weapon you know is dangerous at something that looks, and talks, like a fourteen-year-old, especially when you’re a parent who has probably at least once in your life worried about something happening to your kids, and the ghost of a teenager means something happened to someone’s kid, in a general sense.

So my end conclusion on the Fentons is I think they are being depicted in a kind of metatextual bad faith, that they are not cruel or malicious people, and in my personal take or understanding on the series, I’d massively dial down those elements, and if any remain, take them seriously as problems they have in their relationships with other people.”

Or do you take an approach more rooted in,

“If the Fentons are shown to be negligent parents they are negligent parents, I’m going to examine and depict them as that, and I find this very hard to forgive, so it’s going to have real and nasty consequences.”

Both are basically valid. The place where I tend to get a little uncomfortable is twofold:

First, I think sometimes people just really want some fictional tragedy to either create or consume, and to that end, you aren’t going to get much juicy drama out of the Fentons being reasonable people. This isn’t evil or unforgivable, but for me, it’s definitely my least favorite fannish content to create or consume. I’m no fan of angst for angst’s sake, and I feel like there’s enough misery and heartbreak in the world that I’m not interested in wallowing in it unless it’s got something interesting to say.

Second- and this is a point I’m gonna be saltier: A lot of abusive Fenton fics that refuse to forgive them for the poorer-taste jokes the series makes, simultaneously give Vlad a blank check, when he has done targetedly malicious things to Danny. 

Now- do I also have a more sympathetic read on Vlad, and feel like canon also gives him a bad rap? Yeah! But you can’t have it both ways. You can’t say, “I can’t forgive the Fentons for stuff that was tagged onto them because canon thought it was funny, but I’m gonna editorialize Vlad’s depiction to lionize him as the ideal parent figure for Danny to run into the arms of.”

And the main reason I get so worked up in this, is I feel like Jack in particular (when Maddie is characterized as subordinate to Jack, following his cues, etc., and that’s its own demon) is... characterized as kind of a mocking caricature of traits that I personally recognize as an autistic and ADHD person.

Because the reality is? In many practical ways, I am Jack Fenton.

I like a bunch of weird stuff people find unacceptable or gross, like bugs

I’m hyperlexic (that means I talk, a lot)

Scatterbrained, forget words or where I left something or, sometimes, to do something important

Passionate and excitable including and especially in situations where it’s not normal, or expected, to have this much energy

I absolutely can forget birthdays, even for people I love dearly that mean the world to me! It’s horrible! There’s almost nothing I can do about it! My brain refuses to hold onto this information reliably and no amount of caring fixes it.

And being this way, living like this? My worst nightmare has always been that people think I either don’t care or that I’m just too much of a stupid, flippant buffoon to get right.

The thing about Jack is he’s “a person like me” and he’s “a person like me” who was designed to be a joke. We’re clearly expected to view him as untrustworthy, stupid, just like a big dumb dog of a man who barks in the wrong directions, who sometimes, when it counts, fetches a stick like he’s supposed to. Good job, Lassie. You got little Timmy out of the well.

And I am going to say with certainty and confidence that feeling like this is how people see me is the most unbelievably crushing feeling I have ever experienced in my life. That my excitement and passion means I’m unprofessional, stupid, don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s nearly painful for me, as an adult, to watch Danny Phantom because the show can never get off Jack’s case. And the few times it does, he hauls overtime arduously to make a difference, to help, to build something that will protect others, to put his own life on the line to stop hostile ghosts.

And immediately, then he goes back to being stupid stupid dog man. ha ha. why does his wife love him? no wonder his kids don’t ever want to be seen with him. no wonder his best friend is trying to kill him and he doesn’t even know, the big idiot.

(never mind that we see a scenario where he does know. and admits he would’ve forgiven Vlad anyway. but he can’t forgive Vlad hurting Danny.)

So to rein in this wild tangent: I’m not saying all must love Jack Fenton and despair. I’m not even telling people to hide their angst. If I have a sincere request, it’s this:

If you’re inclined to thinking of Vlad as a cool, troubled, complex person (as I do!) and are haunted by the implications of The Ultimate Enemy specifically for Vlad, that when Danny lost everyone else in his life that Vlad really genuinely tried to help, and was not gloating and happy and victorious to have Danny as his protege, and when that went badly, he was haunted to the end of his days by not having been able to help-

-but immediately turn around and think Jack is just a rotten awful person who’d absolutely hurt his own kid in spite of canon to the contrary (when there’s just as much, if not more, canon of Vlad being willfully hostile)

It might be good to examine why you’re feeling this way, and if this might not come down to the fact that even when canon has people call Vlad a desperately lonely fruit loop, it has a lot more respect for him than it does for Jack, and this isn’t because it’s actually taking a stance against any of the qualities it gave Jack that someone might find disagreeable- it’s because Jack’s just “a big old fat idiot nobody likes, right?”

and that’s... not something comfy to buy into.

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

Museums and Abstract Paintings: A quinnby fic, chapter four

Quick disclaimer: Chris’ amnesia is not modeled after any real world type of amnesia, please don’t base any understanding of real world amnesia off of it. Tw for mentions of murder and implied mentions of murder, along with guilt and anxiety.

Trilby didn’t quite know how to take what he’d learned on his mission with Chris. He’d noticed the ministry was always short staffed. He hadn’t before recognized the constant influx of new faces, or how there was usually no explanation to what happened to the old ones. They were all just hear to get tossed into the fire in the fruitless attempt to protect a few civilians. There was a better chance of ending up dead or insane than making it through their job. Why did so many people stay? Did everyone come in the way he did? Wanted by the law and under threat of imprisonment if they didn’t work for the government? He sighed as he got up from his desk, his report wasn’t as detailed as his usual work but it was good enough. Time to turn it in.

Despite the small staff there was no lack of the normal office gossip in the ministry building, usually about the results of another agent’s mission. Trilby overheard a snippet of this as he walked past.

“Yeah, came in covered in blood, again, think most of it was his this time.”

“Good grief, Chris really is trying to cost the carpet cleaners a fortune isn’t he?”

“Is he okay?” Trilby had stopped, glancing at his two coworkers.

“Not sure, he’s in the infirmary. But he’s always bounced back before so I’m sure he’s doin’ fine.” One of them said.

“Starting to doubt he *can* die he’s done this so many times.” The other said.

Trilby changed his route after that, heading up to the floor the infirmary was on, the report could wait.

Chris hated when he had to get stitches. Oh well. He was alive, a bit worse for wear, but alive.

“In no point did it cross your mind to, I dunno, *run*? There’s no shame in not coming in here a bloody mess after every other job, y’know, plenty of agents manage it quite well.” Claire walked in, an expression of concern and exasperation on her face.

“Not demonslayers.” Chris said, “Besides, it’s not *that* bad.” He shrugged.

“You have too much pride in your mission record, you can fail one mission.” She shot at him.

Chris could’ve laughed, he couldn’t give less sh^ts about his mission record, “It isn’t about that. With some of the jobs other people here have, if they slip up someone else comes in and it’s fine, if I slip up people could get hurt, good people.”

“You already saved the world once y’know, it can be someone else’s problem now.” Claire sighed, “... but I guess I get where you’re coming from.”

“Saved the world?” The two turned to the doorway to see Trilby, who looked thoroughly confused with what he just heard.

“Yeah I saved the world from a henweigh.”

“.. a henweigh?” Trilby asked.

“Yeah.”

The thief paused, clearly having expected clarification, “And what’s a henweigh?”

“‘Bout ten pounds.” Chris smirked. Claire chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“You know one day someone’s gonna ask about it who’s already heard that joke.” She pointed out.

“So you didn’t actually save the world?” Trilby asked.

“Who knows.” Chris smirked at the other’s annoyance, “Maybe I did maybe I didn’t.”

“You can just say you don’t want to answer.”

“I know, but it’s funny to watch you get annoyed. I do think I’m gonna leave you in the dark though, mate.”

“Well, at least you’re alive to do that, heard you ruined the carpet coming in.” The ex thief leaned against the wall, Chris couldn’t help but laugh.

Trilby had tried to brush off what he heard in the infirmary, maybe they were just joking around. Really, Chris saving the world? Sounded about as likely as a beaver running for parliament. But he also barely really knew anything about Chris. Just that he took more dangerous assignments and was known for being reckless and unpredictable. But for some reason he couldn’t shake his intrigue. Couldn’t hurt to ask around.

Turns out it couldn’t help either. The answers people had just raised more questions. Chris stopped something horrible, nobody knew what it was or how he did it. Some people even suspected it was just some delusion, seeming as apparently he was supposed to be in a mental hospital during the time.

Trilby guessed he wasn’t quite as sneaky about his prying into the matter as he assumed, because Chris did find out eventually, and did confront him.

“Ya know it’s kinda rude to go asking about someone’s personal business behind their back.” Trilby couldn’t tell if the redheaded man who’d walked into his office was upset with him or not.

“... pardon?” The idea of being found out hadn’t crossed his mind, so he wasn’t quite sure what Chris could be talking about.

“You *really* wanna know what Claire was talking about in the infirmary don’t you?” The taller man raised an eyebrow. A younger Trilby likely would’ve turned an impressive shade of red at realizing he’d been caught, or would’ve tried to think up some half baked excuse as to why he’d been snooping. But now Trilby held his composure, despite the slight panic he felt inside.

“Oh, yes I have been looking into that.” Trilby said, turning his attention back to the file he was reading, “Is that a problem?”

There was a short pause before Chris spoke again, “... I guess I could tell you.” He said, “On two conditions.” Trilby couldn’t help but look up, intrigued to hear whatever conditions the taller man wanted met. “You meet me at the museum tonight at 4, and you don’t call me crazy.”

Chris was more than anxious as he waited outside the museum. Why the hell had he agreed to talk about it? Why here? Trilby would just think he was insane or he still belonged in the mental hospital or-

“Quinn?” He was snapped out of his thoughts, finding Trilby standing a small distance away, “Are we going in?”

“Oh uh-yeah.” Chris cleared his throat and got up, “.. how long have you been standing there, by the way?”

“Nearly ten minutes.” Oh. Oh sh^t. He just let him stand there for ten minutes. God Quinn you’re stupid.

“Sh^t, sorry mate.” Chris lead him inside. There weren’t many people here, and those that were seemed caught up enough in their own exploration of the building to pay no mind to the two men. Chris showed Trilby his favorite exhibits, talking about the history behind them and why they caught his eye. Trilby seemed more interested in Chris’ words than the museum itself, but his eyes lingered on more valuable exhibits, and Chris wondered if he was thinking of what it’d be like to have possession of them. Eventually they wondered to a part nobody was in at the moment.

“Why did you want to meet here?” Trilby asked, “Why not your apartment or my office or.. anywhere more secluded?”

“Uh, stupidly enough I figured it would be. Sorta a neutral ground. We’ve both made fools of ourself in front of each other in a place like this.” Chris explained. He walked over to a bench and sat down, “So how much did you find out eventually?”

“Not too much I think. Something happened when you were in a mental hospital, you stopped it somehow. Nobody knows what it was. Well, Claire might, but when I asked her she told me to mind my own business. Hey! Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just-“ Chris managed to calm down, “You sounded so offended.” He said, “Well, I’m uh, not really sure if my version of the story is even the whole thing.” He said, yeah that’s a good way to start Chris, set yourself up as an unreliable narrator. God he probably already thinks you’re nuts.

“What do you mean?”

“I Uh, don’t remember anything really before uh. The night my parents died.” He began, “Sometimes things feel familiar or I think I *should* remember something but I just... don’t. That day I was heading to their home after a book signing. I was stressed and they’d left a voicemail asking me to come over and I just.. I thought maybe seeing them would make things a little better. But they were dead when I got there, murdered. They never found the killer.”

“Oh I’m... sorry.” Trilby didn’t expect the story to start off with dead parents, Chris figured. It sounded like a cliche. He sounded like a sh^tty comic book hero.

“It’s fine, nothing that can be done now.. I checked myself into a mental hospital, I’m pretty sure it was a last straw thing for me. I didn’t react the way I thought I should’ve. Figured I should get help.” He was pretty sure the hospital f^cked him up more, but he didn’t say that, “One day I woke up and there was just a guard, dead. I didn’t really know what to do, so I took his gun and went out to investigate. The place was crawling with zombies, which I know sounds insane but it’s true, I recognized some of ‘em, other patients, guards, they smelled like rotting flesh and I remember wondering if I breathed in too close if I’d catch it. At first I didn’t really think about what was going on, I mean what are you supposed to think? I had to get out. That’s what I thought. I had to get out and I had to find out what was causing this and I had to get rid of it because otherwise I’d die. It was kind of a blur until I got shot.” Chris glanced at Trilby, trying to read his face for a reaction to what he’d said so far, he couldn’t find one. The other agent was just.. listening. Chris paused before he continued, “I killed this big lard^rse looking thing and then one of those walking corpses shot me. I woke up in a graveyard, I was one of them but.. somehow I wasn’t. Gone. Not like they were. I went to my parents house to see if there was anything there that might help. I don’t really remember everything I grabbed. I fought my way through the rest of ‘em, I killed it, the evil, the thing that was doing it all, at least I think I did.. I remember the life leaving my body and thinking it was my time.”

“But you’re not dead. Or a zombie.” Trilby now sounded confused, Chris didn’t blame him, this was all so odd he could barely make sense of it half the time. He sometimes wondered if maybe he was just delusional.

“Yeah. That’s what doesn’t make sense. I died a zombie and woke up a human on the side of the road with a bunch of guns and the book of transformations. Everything was normal and nobody knew anything about a zombie apocalypse.” Chris said, “But there were. A lot of people dead. Really quick. A lot of them looked like the zombies I killed. Nobody could figure out what did that to them.”

“I actually remember hearing about that on the news.” Trilby admitted.

“.. sometimes I wonder if there could’ve been a better way. If I’d known I swear I would’ve found one but- but... yeah.” He sighed, why was he saying this? Why had he agreed to talk about it?

Chris looked so uneasy, Trilby wondered if his mind was taking him back to what he went through, or thought he went through. He wondered how to break the tense silence, and silently realized why Chris chose this place to meet. Last time both of them were in a museum was lighthearted and fun and honestly ridiculous. Despite how quickly Trilby left it behind and forgot about it, the few times he had thought about it it was never a *bad* memory. As absurd as what Chris was saying sounded to an observer, to the demonslayer this was a personal hell. A shroud of guilt and uncertainty that he couldn’t shake. “... I’m not going to say I know what that’s like, because I don’t, I don’t think it’s *possible* for someone else to go through something like that. But I do know what it’s like to only realize something you did after it was done.” He didn’t know why he said that, or why Chris talking about the people he’d killed stuck out so much to him.

“.. what do you mean? If you’re okay saying it?” Chris’ voice was soft, quiet.

“There Uh, was a mansion, some things happened... it was my body but.. it wasn’t *me*, I never would’ve done it if I had control.” Trilby elected to keep details sparse, he was sure trying to explain what happened at Defoe Manner wouldn’t do either of them any favors. Besides. Chris had brought him here to share something. This wasn’t show and tell, and he didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to upstage the other.

“.. I don’t think it really counts against you then, you didn’t want to do it.”

“I don’t think what you did is your fault either. You had no clue what would happen.” He paused before adding, “I won’t say a word of what you told me. I swear.”

Chris paused, before grinning a bit, “Hey, maybe this can be a thing, but, less morbid in the future. Museums could be like our Las Vegas.” He had effectively dispersed the tense mood between the two with that.

“What?” Trilby had to hold back a laugh, what the hell was the other saying?

“You know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? We can hang out in museums and do whatever we want and say whatever we want and when we leave we don’t tell anyone about it.” Trilby had to admit, it was a nice idea, if a bit silly. A place where both of them could be vulnerable yet also maintain complete privacy the moment they left.

“That sounds nice.” Trilby said, “Next time let’s go to an art museum. They’re less boring.”

[writingwife-83]

Sooo anyone remember a little one shot I wrote called Green? Well 3 months later and I finally decided to write part 2! 😄 thanks for reading it over @thisisartbylexie ❤️

Ben turned his dishwasher on, poured himself a glass of water, and shut the kitchen light off with a little sigh. It had been a long Friday, and frankly a long week, so it was definitely time to turn in for the night. He was looking forward to a restful and uneventful weekend until Monday morning rolled around again.

As he left his kitchen and shuffled toward his bedroom though, he heard something coming from outside. The moment he began following the noises toward his balcony, it became clear there were definitely voices. He grimaced in confusion as he drank some of the cool water, trying to figure out exactly what he was hearing.

The moment he opened his balcony door, he realized that was definitely Rey’s voice he could hear above. She had to have her balcony door open as well because it was pretty loud.

“No no!” she yelled. “Don’t!”

Ben heard a man's voice yelling as well.

“Oh you’d better get out of my way or I’m moving you myself!”

Rey screamed and that’s when Ben's blood ran cold. Something was happening up there and it definitely wasn’t good. He set his glass down and stepped out onto the balcony, peering upward where he could see light coming from Rey’s apartment.

“Hello?” Ben called. “Hey, Rey, you ok up there?”

Rey screamed again. “Ugh! I hate you!”

”You’re not getting away this time!” the man yelled.

That’s when Ben heard a loud crash like something had fallen and broken. Adrenaline instantly flooded his body, head to toe. He threw sneakers on and grabbed his phone and keys, shoving them in his pocket, and hurried out of his apartment.

He flew up to the next floor, climbing about three steps at a time, and raced down the hallway until he was at her apartment. Ben immediately began pounding on the door.

“Rey?! Rey!” He paused only a split second before knocking again with full force. “If someone doesn’t open this door in about ten seconds I’m breaking it down, you hear me?!”

After slamming his fist against the door a few more times, Ben backed up, taking a few deep breaths and preparing to use every muscle in his body to get into that apartment. Just before he was about to charge though, the door swung open and he found himself face to face with Rey, who thankfully looked perfectly safe and sound. Ben released a breath of relief, perching his hands on his hips.

“Oh, thank God, I’m glad you’re-“

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Ben stared back at her, a little confused at the biting response.

“I just- I heard loud voices and-“

“Ok so first it’s my plants that are aggressively dripping onto your balcony that makes you nearly break my door down, and now it’s noise?”

A man stepped into the doorway next to Rey.

“Rey, what’s going on?” He scowled at Ben, crossing his arms. “Who is this guy? Is he bothering you?”

Ben felt his shackles rising again.

“Am I bothering her?” He huffed. “I think the better question is if you’re bothering her!”

The man’s brows shot up and he took a step forward. “Excuse me?!”

Rey shoved herself in front of the man, putting her palms up in protest.

“Hold on, hold on!” She turned to face Ben again. “Look, I dunno what your problem is but I think you’d better go.”

“I’m not leaving until I’m sure things are safe up here,” Ben insisted, standing his ground and giving the man behind her a hard stare.

Rey grimaced. “Safe? Why wouldn’t things be safe?”

Ben pointed toward Rey’s balcony. “Your door was open. It’s past midnight, I could hear you guys screaming at each other from all the way downstairs, and it was pretty obvious things were getting physical, so I don’t really like the idea of going back downstairs and leaving you alone with him still-“

He stopped short when he realized that both Rey and this man had started...laughing? Ben had a difficult time seeing what could be funny and at this point he was just getting annoyed.

“I’m so sorry,” Rey sputtered out. “We were playing a video game! That’s what you heard!”

Ben froze for a moment, embarrassment slowly starting to creep in as the weight of that statement sunk in.

“Oh...my God,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I- I went on my balcony and called up to see if you were ok and you didn’t answer.”

“Headphones,” the man replied simply, pointing to the coffee table where two sets of headphones lay.

“Right.” Ben nodded sheepishly. “Headphones.”

“We finally paused the game cuz I knocked my lamp over and broke it, like an idiot,” Rey explained with a laugh. “That’s when I heard you practically knocking a hole through my door.”

“Thankfully you caught me before I broke it down.”

The man laughed.

“You kinda look like you could break it down. I’m glad I didn’t have to try and fight you because I feel like that wouldn’t have gone well for me.” He offered his hand. “Hey, I’m Finn.”

Ben gave him a small smile and accepted the hand shake. “Ben. Good to meet you.”

A door opened across the hall, catching their attention.

“What exactly is going on out here at this time of night?” an older woman asked sternly.

“Sorry, Maz! Just a little misunderstanding but it’s all cleared up,” Rey replied kindly. “We’ll keep it down now, I promise.”

She shoved Finn back into the apartment, and before Ben knew what was happening he felt Rey take hold of his tee shirt and tug him inside as well, shutting the door after them.

“Oh you don’t have to- I mean, I can just go back downstairs now that I know everything’s fine,” Ben offered, now definitely feeling like he was imposing.

He hated to admit it, but more than likely this was Rey’s boyfriend, so what were the chances they wanted anyone else hanging out with them after midnight?

Rey shrugged as she opened her fridge. “I know it’s late, so you don’t have to stay if you don’t want, but we’re happy to have you. Right, Finn?”

“Absolutely,” Finn agreed, and seemed to mean it.

“Besides, I just wanted to clear out of the hallway before Maz calls anyone. She’s sweet but you don’t want to be on her bad side.” Rey pried the top off a bottle she’d just taken out of the fridge and held it out to Ben with a smile. “Beer?”

Ben held her gaze for another second of deliberation, then finally reached out and took the bottle, his fingers brushing over Rey’s as he did. The amount of pleasant electricity he felt from the first touch of her skin against his made him hope he wasn’t visibly blushing. Especially with her boyfriend standing right there watching!

“Thanks,” Ben said quietly and took a swig. “I guess I’ll stay for a few minutes.”

A few minutes turned into more than an hour.

Ben tried his best to fend them off, but a few minutes after they’d all sat down Rey and Finn insisted he play the video game as well. It wasn’t really his thing but when Rey actually took his hand and placed the controller in it, he found himself unable to keep saying no. Despite himself, he had a pretty fantastic time. Maybe this was a better antidote to his long week at work than turning in early.

“I taught her everything she knows,” Finn boasted playfully as Ben set the controller down after being heated by Rey.

“Don’t listen to him! He barely ever beats me.” Rey gave Finn a little shove then smiled at Ben. “I guess we’ve always been a little competitive.”

Ben glanced between the two of them in curiosity. “Always?”

Rey took a sip of her beer, nodding. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. We were in the same foster home for a couple of years and we’ve kept in touch ever since.”

“Yeah, she’s the annoying sister I never had,” Finn added, which earned him another shove.

Ben nodded, intense relief washing over him as he realized that these two had a very different relationship than he initially assumed.

“So…” Finn spoke up again. “You are the guy who freaked out over the dripping plants right?”

“Finn!” Rey hissed, covering her face as she stifled a laugh.

Ben chuckled, shrugging one shoulder in resignation. “Yep, that’s me.”

“I’ve been a little more careful lately,” Rey said with a little smile. “Trying to water them late at night when you probably wouldn’t be out there. It’s not that I didn’t care at all, it was just…”

“I was a jerk.”

“Yeah, basically,” Rey confirmed, and they both laughed a little.

“Trust me, I’ve told her it’s a little bit of an addiction,” Finn interjected. “As you can see, there’s an entire collection of plants inside too!”

Ben glanced around. “I definitely can see that.”

“You two can laugh all you want, but I’m willing to bet that the air is way cleaner in my apartment than yours is,” Rey shot back playfully. “Don’t come crying to me when the city air is choking you!”

As quiet set in again, Ben found that Rey’s eyes had settled on him and he also realized he was having trouble looking away. But as much as he was enjoying this, he was still self conscious enough that he didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

“Well, thanks for the beer. And the game,” Ben said, taking his empty bottle and standing. “I should probably head back downstairs.”

Finn stood as well, stretching a little. “Yeah, I should go too. I’ll save Rey the trouble of kicking me out like usual.”

Ben put his bottle in the recycling and made his way to the door along with Finn and Rey. He watched awkwardly as the two of them embraced warmly and Rey gave Finn a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll text you later ok?”

“Sounds good. Hey, nice to meet you Ben.”

Ben gave him a little nod. “You too.”

Ben stepped into the hallway along with Finn, but he hung back a little as Finn continued walking.

“Sorry about the aggressive entrance...again,” Ben said once they were alone.

Rey smiled. “It’s ok. At least this time you have a more noble excuse. Thanks, by the way.”

Ben shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah but you would have. You were ready to break down my door because you thought someone was hurting me. I’d say that’s pretty nice.”

He gave her a little smirk. “Well naturally I was pretty concerned for all the plants. I mean, where would they be if something happened to you?”

She laughed, leaning on her door frame. “Now that I know you care so much I’m definitely leaving them all to you in my will.”

Silence set in again and Ben decided he was really going to make himself leave this time.

“Ok, well, thanks again. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“What about tomorrow?”

Ben blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, maybe you want to come back upstairs for a movie and some pizza tomorrow night.”

He pressed his lips together, hesitating a bit. “If you guys already have plans I don’t want to keep intruding.”

Rey’s eyes suddenly seemed to be sparkling and she gave him a gentle smile. “Actually...I just meant with me.”

Oh, just her.

Oh.

Ben swallowed hard, trying to remember how to form words as the nature of this invitation was becoming clearer.

“Sure, I’d like that,” he somehow managed.

The grin she gave him was more beautiful than anything he’d seen in a long time.

“Ok great. Oh!” She reached out. “Hey, can I see your phone?”

Ben fished it out of his pocket, unlocked it and handed it over. He was a little rusty so it took him a moment to realize what she was doing as he watched her typing.

“There,” Rey said with a smile, finally handing his phone back as he heard a little ding inside her apartment. She pointed behind her. “That was you texting me. And now you have my number.”

Ben glanced down at the message screen, instantly letting out a short laugh.

-THANKS FOR INVITING ME OVER TOMORROW NIGHT SO I DON’T HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING FOR REASONS TO BREAK YOUR DOOR DOWN :)

And just like that, Ben was no longer hoping for a quiet and uneventful weekend.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Döden Går Tyst I Skogen

Word count: 4487

Prompt: “I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!”

--------------

“I hope you guys had no other plans for this weekend because we’re going camping!”

Of course Cleves was the one to present this idea. She was the nature freak, after all (in a good way, of course).

It was just another day at the theater, another day of singing the same songs and dancing the same dances. Perhaps that’s why Cleves came up with this proposition in the first place; she could sense the dreariness coating the ten of them and knew they all needed a break.

“Camping?” Aragon said slowly. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Cleves replied with natural enthusiasm. “Come on, we don’t have any shows this weekend. We need this. What’s a better way to unwind than be in the great outdoors?”

“Be inside where it’s safe?” Joan put in.

“It sounds good to me.” Anne said, talking over Joan, earning an annoyed huff from the girl, who promptly buries her face back into her sketchbook. “It gives me more of a reason not to do the dishes!”

“You’re still doing them,” Jane said, then smiled at Cleves. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I don’t think I’ve ever gone camping before.”

“Think you can handle it, Miss Germaphobe?” Anne teased.

“Yes!” Jane barked, suddenly defensive. “It is nature! It’s probably cleaner out there than it is in here.”

“Poison ivy, poison oak, leprosy, hornets, rabies, murderers…” Joan began to rattle off the dangers of nature. “Fungal diseases, scorpions, bears…” She continues, but nobody pays attention after that.

“I think it’s a great idea!” Kitty piped up. “Can we take the dogs?”

“Yeah!” Cleves said excitedly. “This is gonna be amazing! You won’t regret it!”

And so, the plans were arranged.

After spending the three days in actual civilization, the gang packed up two cars with supplies Cleves had bought (again, nature freak) and drove off to the campsite the red queen knew about. 

They arrived a little after six. It took ten minutes to hike to the clearing, and then around another thirty minutes to unpack and get set up, but they were all eventually sitting on logs and chairs around the fire Kitty and Anne started, a task Jane had been hesitant about giving them.

“Let’s play a game!” Kitty said.

“Hippo,” Joan suggested.

She got several head tilts, but Cathy flashed a grin at her.

“We used to call it Hippo, but we got tired of people always asking, ‘Why’s it called Hippo?’” She laughed. “Nice OXENFREE reference, Jo. I got it.” She swung her head around to the others, missing Joan’s shy blush in reaction to what she said. “It’s like Truth or Dare, except it’s a little nicer because nobody has to chug a bottle of hot sauce or lick someone else’s butthole. You can ask anyone any question you want and they have to answer no matter what, but if someone can prove that they’re lying, they get to slap them for not telling the truth.”

The others nodded in understanding.

“I’ll go first to start us off,” Cathy said. “Jane- Would you ever be polygamous?”

Jane scrunched up her nose in bafflement at such a question why several others laughed loudly. Cathy merely shrugged at the look she was being given and then motioned for Jane to answer.

“No. No way.” Jane said. “I mean, if you’re into that, nifty, but one partner is hard enough to deal with for me.”

A few more snorts went through the group, but nobody made a move to slap Jane, meaning, as far as they all knew, she was telling the truth.

“My turn, right?” Jane asked.

“Yup,” Cathy nodded.

“Okay…” Jane looked around at everyone. “Anne!” The green queen perked up and waited excitedly. “If you woke up as the opposite gender, what’s the first thing you would do?”

“Masturbate.”

Laughter erupted through the clearing. Maria even tipped backwards off of the log she was sitting on and had to cling desperately to Bessie’s shirt, which nearly made the bassist come down with her.

“I’m crying!” Maggie howled, wiping a finger under her watering eyes.

“There was zero hesitation!” Cleves cried.

“Can I slap her just because?” Aragon asked. 

“I speak only the truth.” Anne smirked. “My turn now, and I choose...Bessie!”

There was a swell of intrigued murmurs. Bessie raised an eyebrow at Anne.

“Ever committed a crime?” Anne asked. 

“If the illegal downloading of over a thousand songs counts as a crime, then yes.” Bessie said nonchalantly. “And tax fraud.”

“What?” Aragon gaped, among many shocked reactions.

“Anna!” Bessie said, providing no context or explanation for her answer.

And so, the game went on. 

Darkness began to fall over the forest as evening turned to night. Rays of marigold and pink and orange slipped through the trees, bathing the clearing in the colors of twilight before serene, inky black settles in its place. Laughter and music filled the grove even as the moon rose up high in the silver-speckled sky. Hippo turned into Cards Against Humanity, then a forest dance party, and then just normal conversations with topics that would randomly whisk away with the wind. 

Maria was the first to turn in for the night at eleven. Cathy and Kitty followed thirty minutes later, until everyone had nestled into their respective tents. The sound of humming crickets and croaking frogs lulled them all into a peaceful sleep…

--

12:48

Saturday, November 12

That’s what the big, white letters and numbers at the top of Joan’s phone screen read when she pressed the power button. She squinted at the brightness, then shut it off to relieve her eyes of the stinging glow that blinded them. She set her phone aside and rolled over, finding that there was much more space than before. When she peeked out from under her heavy eyelids again, she saw that the sleeping that used to occupy Cleves, her tent roommate, was empty.

Probably using the bathroom, Joan thought, snuggling back up in the blanket she brought. However, for the life of her, she couldn’t drift back off. You’d think the silence outside would help, bit it didn’t. In fact, it made falling asleep even worse for that very reason- that it was silent. No chirping of night birds, no rustling of leaves in the wind, no croaking of frogs. Nothing.

Complete silence.

Joan sat up, rubbed her eyes, then crawled out of the tent. The fire had been reduced down to flickering embers, and the minimal glow they gave off revealed a bare perimeter around the site. When she checked, there was nobody in the other tents.

“Guys?”

No answer.

Joan grabbed one of the flashlights lying around and began scanning the area of the camping ground. There was nobody.  Not even the dogs they had brought along.

“Hello? Guys?”

She vaguely remembered them talking about going on a night hike hours earlier, so she stepped out of the fire’s light and started to search. She waved the flashlight around everywhere, calling out for her friends.

“Jane? Bessie? Catherine?” She shouted into the darkness. “Where’d you guys go? Anne?”

Nothing answered her.

Joan delved deeper into the woods. Fallen leaves and icy grass crunches underneath her feet. The darkness surrounded her like a malevolent entity. It seemed palpable, almost physical. She shivered as a cold whirlwind gusted around her, her pajamas providing little to no protection from the wind. She regretted not grabbing her coat, but she hadn’t been expecting it to take this long.

“They could have at least told me where they were going.” She grumbled, “Or when they would get back. Or when they left because this is ridiculous!”

A branch snapped loudly from behind. Joan whirled around to see nobody.

“Guys?”

Bushes rustled nearby.

“Guys, this isn’t funny anymore!” She yelled.

There were more snaps and crackles that seemed to come from every direction. A crash sounded from a few yards away, like someone had taken a big log and threw it to the ground with as much force as possible. Joan thought she heard laughter coming from in the trees. She’s spinning around in rapid circles, shining her flashlight everywhere.

Then, a scream. 

Something lunged out from the underbrush.

Joan shrieked in pure terror and fell backwards, becoming paralyzed with fear. She braced her arms over her head. The laughter is back. She peeks out and her heart sinks.

“Oh man, you should have seen your face, Joan!”

“You...you prick!!”

Kitty jumped out of the way when the pianist flung a stick at her. She doubled over, giggling and trying to catch her breath.

“That wasn’t funny!”

“Sorry, sorry, okay! It was just too good!”

She hauled Joan up to her feet, despite the nasty glare she was getting.

“So all of that was you?”

Kitty nodded, grinning widely and wiping her eyes.

“God, you are so annoying. You put way too much effort into that!” Joan growled, rolling her eyes. “That didn’t sound like you up in the trees. Come on, let’s hear you do that voice again.”

Kitty gave her a confused look.

“What?”

“The laughter. In the trees. Do it again.”

“What are you talking about? I just made all those rustling noises. I never climbed a tree.”

Joan was awful at telling when people were lying, but something inside of her told her that Kitty was telling the truth. She fidgeted nervously.

“It must have just been the wind then.” She said, despite how painfully cliché that sounded. “Let’s-let’s just get back to the camp.”

She and Kitty began walking through the woods. 

“So, was everyone in on the joke?”

Kitty shook her head. “Nope. Just me.” She said, “We were heading back from the hike and I heard you yelling, so I decided to give you a little scare.”

“Which was so nice of you.” Joan deadpanned. She hated having to walk alone with Kitty of all people; it was so awkward! And it only got worse when it became evident that they had no idea where they were going.

“Shouldn’t we have found the clearing by now?” Joan asked anxiously.

“Calm down,” Kitty said, as if she weren’t a big scaredy cat herself. “We’ll get there.”

Joan gave her an unconvinced look, but kept walking because every other direction didn’t look any more helpful than the one they were going on. She pointed her flashlight straight ahead, but it seemed like the light wasn’t as strong as it had been before, like the shadows were devouring the length of the white beam and leaving it dimmed and short. 

Their hike was spent mostly in silence, aside from all the forest noises, which had finally returned. Or, perhaps they’ve always been there. It gets hard to tell after a while.

The two of them duck under brittle, reaching branches and coils of thorns until they break through the thicket and into a small clearing where a cottage as old as time itself sat. It’s swathed by tendrils of ivy climbing their way towards the roof and splotched with patches of emerald green moss. It’s a chalk color, black peppering along its breast. The windows are a deep brown, shoddy paint chipping along the frames’ lips and brow, the very age of the cottage showing in its deterioration. Strings of small bones and clumps of fur and feathers dangle from branches and carvings of snakes with gemstone eyes guard the trees around the property.

And—

There’s light coming from inside.

It’s barely there. Just the occasional flicker, a warm orange seeping through the windows and bathing the frosted, overgrown grass that sits along the ground against the wall of the cottage outside. 

Kitty furrowed her brows, then glanced at Joan, who had her head tilted slightly in confusion. She’s looking at the house as if she’s expecting it to start talking and give her answers of its history.

“We definitely didn’t go the right way.” Kitty said helpfully, earning a glower from Joan. 

“You think?”

Cautiously, they make their way up to the front door, a wide brown-oak thing, with a cut-out panel for a small, cracked glass window. As Joan is pushing down the rusted grey handle, Kitty swore she saw one of the snakes with ruby eyes turn its head to watch them. She instinctively latched onto Joan, who jumped and then shrugged her off.

“Let go,” Joan hissed.

“Sorry,” Kitty said softly. “I thought I saw something.”

Joan frowned and scanned the trees circling the house and then stepped inside, motioning for Kitty to come with her.

“This isn’t trespassing, right? Shouldn’t we have knocked first?” Kitty said, looking around the musty interior.

“Maybe,” Joan said. “But we’re inside now. Oh well. Maybe the person who lives here can help us.”

She shines her flashlight around, revealing racks and shelves of various animal bones and furs. In fact, the entire place seemed to be either decorated by remains or wood carvings.

“What’s that thing where people are into collecting animal skeletons?” Kitty asked quietly.

“Vulture culture,” Joan replied.

“Ah,” Kitty nodded. She took her phone out of her pocket; the bedazzled, hot pink case glittered slightly in the flashlight’s glow. “Well, I’m going to go back outside and try to get some bars to call Jane.”

“What time is it?” Joan asked before she did so.

“It’s two in the morning.” Kitty answered.

The front door remained open for Joan’s own sense of safety and so the sparse moonlight could leak inside. She made the quick trek through the living room, which was adorned with more fur and bones, and made it to a short hallway. She opened a door on the right, which led to a musty-smelling room overgrown with fungus and plant life. She was about to leave and check if the other door was the one where they had seen the light, when she noticed a boot sticking out from behind the bed.

She believed she may have just found the owner of the cabin.

It was a man. Or, at least, Joan assumed it was a man from whatever clothes were left upon the skeleton. She guessed he probably died from a heart attack or something, which would have been a terrible way to go, since he had clearly been all alone.

Just then, the sound of the front door slamming shut jarred Joan out of her inspection. She jumped, whirled around, and opened her mouth to snap at Kitty for doing that, even though she specifically wanted to keep the door open, but something told her not to. The words caught in her mouth and her jaw remained agape for a moment as she listened.

There was a crack of wood from the hallway.

Someone was in the cabin with her.

“Hello?” Called a voice far too raspy and deep to be Kitty’s. It almost sounded like an old man’s. “Anybody in here? I need help!”

Joan backed up against the wall as quietly as she could, not daring to reply.

“Hello?” The man said again, this time with far more desperation. 

The door pushed open slowly, but Joan was still hidden behind it from the way it came out. However, she could still see around the frame and watched as the man came inside, crawling on all fours with its inhumanly long limbs. The skin was wrinkled, molted, and sickly pale with smears of dark red and brown. It was incredibly thin and completely bald, but had scratches and pock marks littering its head. Its bones pressed grossly up against its taut flesh as it climbed onto the bed, grappling on with grotesquely disjointed hands and feet that almost looked like a gibbon’s. It looked down at the skeleton, then, in the gravelly voice, said, “I need help!”

Joan inhaled sharply and the thing snapped its head around to her. Its black, eyeless sockets drilled deep into her soul.

--

“Come on,” Kitty muttered as she watched a text to Jane try to send for the third time. She sighed heavily in annoyance, but that feeling was quickly whisked away by a jolt of fear when the door slammed shut behind her. She jumped and spun around, then narrowed her eyes at the doorway. “Wow. I was barely even being loud. But I expect no less from the MD who gets mad at every little thing!”

She turned away, not wanting to have her back to all the snakes. She continued to try and send a text until the door behind her suddenly swung open loudly and Joan came sprinting out.

“Kat!!” Joan yelled. “Run!”

“What?!”

Joan grabbed her arm as she ran by, pulling her along. She quickly fell into pace, and the two of them raced through the underbrush, getting whipped by ivy and branches and thorns as they went along. They stopped, eventually, to catch their breath. 

“What’s wrong?!” Kitty exclaimed through pants.

“There’s...someone out here with us.” Joan said bluntly with a wince. “Not one of our friends. Just please tell me you got a hold of Jane and know where to go.”

“No,” Kitty shook her head. “Wait- what do you mean ‘someone’?”

Joan began walking again. “I-I don’t know, honestly. Someone came into the house or was already inside, I’m not sure, but I was someone. Or something…”

Kitty swallowed thickly. At first she had been thinking Joan was just messing with her to get revenge for earlier, but Joan looked genuinely terrified. She kept looking over her shoulders and shining her flashlight around everywhere and anxiously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Something had really frightened her.

“Like...a man?”

“I don’t know!” Joan said. “I- I can’t describe it. You would have to see it to know what I mean.” She fell into a moment of nervous silence. “I just want to get out of these stupid woods…”

“Me too,” Kitty agreed. “Anything is better than this.”

“Eh. I can think of a few things.”

“I just wished Jane was here…”

Joan set a hand on her shoulder. “Me too.”

Kitty smiled slightly, despite the circumstances. She looked back down at her phone to see that the message was still trying to send.

“Let me see,” Joan said and Kitty handed her phone as she spoke again, “KAT!!!”

Except it hadn’t come from beside her.

Kitty whirled around to see Joan running through the dark trees. Her face was ghostly pale and dotted with sweat along the brow. Her storm grey eyes were wide with peril. The words she screamed sent Kitty’s entire world come crashing down on top of her.

“THAT ISN’T ME!!”

Kitty turned in time to watch the thing at her side disappear into the underbrush. Her jaw fell open, her breath catching in her throat as she was seized by terror. She had let it touch her. It had slipped into her life so easily and she had no idea. 

What was it planning on doing if Joan hadn’t shown up?

“Kat, Kat, hey,” Joan is in front of her, shaking her shoulders frantically. She clearly didn’t know how to calm someone in the midst of a panic attack. “Listen, I know you’re freaked out, but we have to go.”

She grabbed Kitty by the wrist and began running. Kitty stumbled along behind her, but managed to keep a steady pace, even with her rising horror.

“Joan-” She choked out as they sprinted through the trees. “Joan, what the fuck?”

“I-I-I don’t know!” Joan cried. “One moment I was alone in the cabin and then the next, that thing is there! I-it knocked me out, I think, and took my- AHH!!”

Joan cut herself off with a cry of pain and the loud clanging of metal as she’s suddenly yanked to the ground. Kitty screamed, too, at the sudden outburst and skidded to a halt. In the dim moonlight, she can see Joan writhing on the ground, sobbing in obvious distress.

“Joan?” Kitty whispered fearfully. “What’s wrong?”

“S-something’s got me-” Joan rasped. “Something’s-” She howled loudly.

“Is it the thing?” Kitty asked, but her only answer is a sharp whine that morphs into a sob. Slowly, she turned on her phone, which had scratch marks engraved into the glass from the creature, and activated the flashlight app. She couldn’t tell if what she saw in the light was worse than the monster or not.

A bear trap. Clamped around Joan’s left leg, just above the ankle. Joan’s left hand gripped at the limb tightly, slightly over where the metallic teeth bared into her flesh. One sporadic tremor was all it took to send new currents of torture up her leg. And, this time, there was no stifling her tormented scream from ripping out of her throat. Now, both hands were clutching at the appendage, trying as the might to lessen the pain. Of course, it did little to no good.

“Oh god,” Kitty whispered. “Oh god, oh god, oh god…!” She was beginning to panic, spiraling all over again. Joan caught attention of this growing anxiety attack through her own haze.

“No!” She snapped. “You don’t GET to freak out! You don’t have this fucking thing attached to your leg! You need to be the strong one for once!” Her voice wavered treacherously. “Please-”

Kitty sniffled, but nodded. She knew Joan was right- someone had to keep their head on straight, and it would be much harder for the one caught in a bear trap to do that.

She knelt down beside Joan, her knees dipping into a pool of blood spreading out across the dirt. She reached out and cringed when her fingers squelched against the fabric of Joan’s pajama pants, warm liquid seeping through and almost immediately coating her hands. They were numb, quivering as she forced them to venture farther and nearer to the source of her companion’s agony.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Joan muttered. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot! No offense.”

“None taken,” Kitty grunted  as she jammed her fingers through where she could, eliciting a sharp cry from Joan. 

“What the fuck?! WHAT THE FUCK?!” Joan yelled, writhing.

“I’m trying to get it off!” Kitty told her.

She attempted to pry the jaws of the artificial beast from Joan’s leg, but her arms were shaking too much and the torment that seized Joan’s body prevented her from using all her strength; all of it was quickly being stolen away in both of them. Before she could get the teeth more than an inch away, the slickness caused it to slip from her grasp and bite right back to where it was originally. Just like that, they were back at square one.

“M-maybe I can break it off?” Kitty stammered.

“Try,” Joan begged. She leaned back and laid down, clawing her hands at the dirt and ripping at the grass to try and cope with the waves of agony washing over her. Tears were falling freely from her eyes.

Kitty began to search the perimeter of the clearing, being mindful of other illegal traps laid out- bear traps, fox traps, snares, cages. She weaved around them carefully, scanning the ground until she found a few big and pointy rocks and some sturdy-looking sticks. She gathered them all, willing to try each of them until one worked.

“Listen,” Joan slurred as she made her way back over. “We both hate this. In fact, I hate it more because I’m the one with a bear trap on my leg. So-” Then, she went snow white.

“Joan?” Kitty said worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Kat, don’t move.” Joan whispered slowly. “I know we have our differences, but I need you to trust me. Whatever you do, don’t move.”

Kitty obeys, freezing in place. She held the rocks and sticks close to her chest, staring into Joan’s eyes and not daring to look at anything else. Bile was rising in her throat, not because of her mounting fear, but because of the sickly sweet smell of cadaverine emanating from the figure beside her.

“I can’t believe I finally found you both!” It said with Jane's voice. “I’ve been looking all over. I was so worried.”

A hand with long, spindly fingers comes up to rest on Kitty’s shoulder. Kitty squeezes her eyes shut, tears slowly rolling down her face as she barely suppressed a whimper.

“I was so worried.” It said again, using Anne’s voice.

Joan is perfectly still, not even feeling the pain of the bear trap anymore. She watches as the thing’s head twitches sporadically before finally stopping and staring directly at her, wearing Aragon’s face.

“You two know better than to run off like that.”

That’s when Kitty screamed. Unable to take it anymore, she darted left and ran for the trees. The thing went after her, and Joan could only lie there and watch as it lunged at her, latching on and throwing her to the ground, where it began shredding her face and burrowing into her back and peeling off her skin until she stopped screaming. Then, with the young queen’s flesh draped around its neck like a scarf, it crawled over to Joan. She didn’t move as it pressed its nails into her belly and grabbed a hold of the top of her face. She just cried until the Skinwalker stripped her head and she couldn’t cry anymore.

------

Kitty’s eyes snapped open- she’s barely able to breathe. Her hands immediately begin to feel all over her body- her face, her stomach, her leg. Then, she’s catapulting out of her tent, stumbling over it momentarily, and wrenching herself outside.

It was morning. Pale sunlight was filtering through the trees overhead. Birds were singing happily. Everyone seemed so calm, so at peace, while she stood breathing heavily and sweating. Jane looked at her worriedly.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” She asked. “What’s wrong?”

“N- nothing…” Kitty said, spotting Joan sitting by the dying fire with her knees to her chest. “I’m fine.”

She walked over to Joan and sat beside her. The music director’s face is very grey.

“They didn’t believe me,” She whispered.

“What?’

Joan looked up at her. “I tried to tell them what happened and they didn’t believe me. They said it was a dream and it wasn’t real. But it couldn’t have been…” She shook her head and rested it back on her knees.

“Yeah…” Kitty said softly.

There was nothing to be done, however. They still had a day of camping, although nothing happened during the next night. That gave them both some reassurance, and they even started believing that it had been some crazy nightmare.

As everyone was driving home, Kitty felt a sting in her back and Joan felt a stab in her stomach. They exchanged fearful looks, then looked out the window and saw it standing between two trees, waving and wearing a horrid mix of their faces.

[artificialqueens]

Blue Neighborhood Series: TOO GOOD (Jackie-centric) - Mac

AN: All my love and thanks to Alex for betaing. She’s a star and I adore her. All my love to you all for continuing to read this story. I appreciate you so much more than you know.

Summary: Jan and Jackie talk about their respective futures as well as the events of the past few months and try to figure out what comes next.

Jackie breathed in and out slowly in an attempt to slow her racing heart. The cups of coffee in her hand were still so ridiculously hot that they burned a ring into the skin of her palm, but the uncomfortable feeling and the biting chill of the night air kept her mind clear.

For that she was grateful.

Not a second after she had knocked, the familiar red oak door swung open, revealing a frazzled looking Jan. She looked beautiful despite her evident stress, and Jackie would have told her as much if she were braver.

“Good evening, Miss Homecoming Royalty,” Jackie grinned, chipper as ever, even with it being nearly midnight.

Jan huffed and rolled her eyes, clearly not in the mood for teasing, but as her gaze fell onto the matching cups in Jackie’s hands, her eyes lit up and she made a grab for the coffee.

Jackie’s arm darted away from Jan’s eager grasp and she shook her head mockingly. “Uh un, what do you say?” she prompted, barely able to suppress a grin.

Jan crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. If Jackie were a stronger woman she wouldn’t have found it as adorable as it was.

The older girl sighed. “This is the part where you say ‘thank you, Jackie, you’re the light of my life and I couldn’t do any of this without you.’”

Jan rolled her eyes once more. “I swear to god,” she cursed under her breath.

“Close enough,” Jackie chuckled, finally offering the drink to Jan with an outstretched hand.

Jan grabbed it swiftly like she was prepared for Jackie to whisk it away again. The older girl just laughed at her as the two made their way up the stairs to Jan’s room. Pristine and purple as always, Jackie swore the place was cleaner than a hospital with how often Jan vacuumed, the plush shag carpet sending sparks of familiarity and comfort up Jackie’s legs and settling in her spine.

The two girls threw themselves on the bed and began the arduous process of pulling out their various materials.

College applications were due in a week and with all the shit that had been going on in both their lives, they had conveniently put off writing their essays, or in Jan’s case, writing her essays and recording her audition tapes. Jan, having realized this, had called Jackie immediately and demanded that they get together and finish everything right the fuck now. Jackie, having been half asleep and not in her right mind, agreed, because it was Jan, and she never could say no to Jan.

Now, the girls exhaled, throwing their stacks of papers around the room and staring blankly at their computer screens, racking their brains for that perfect string of words that would determine the course of their lives.

After about thirty minutes of this mindless staring, Jan sighed and threw herself back onto her plush comforter, trying and failing not to find it comfortable.

“What the hell do they mean where do I want to be in ten years?” She groaned. “Employed. What the hell else?”

Jackie raised a singular brow, judgment clear in her words.“Is that really UCLA’s essay topic? Yikes.”

Jan sat up and fixed her with a squint. “Well, what was Smith’s?”

“Most influential person in your life.”

“That’s sooooooo basic,” Jan drawled, rolling her eyes pointedly.

Jackie leaned over the mountain of pillows and made to poke at Jan playfully. The younger girl gave a dramatic shriek and began burying herself under the mass of pillows in an effort to escape. Jackie let her go after a moment, finding Jan far too cute and far too close.

The proximity, even after all these years, never failed to make her head spin.

“At least they didn’t ask a minimum wage job interview question,” she quickly recovered.

Jan scoffed and batted Jackie’s hands away. “I think you’re just saying that cause you don’t want me going so far away.”

Jackie couldn’t hide the way her heart sank in her chest at the comment, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try to conceal it with an eye roll. “Whatever. Like you won’t get into whatever school you apply to.”

Jan groaned again, turning her face against a pillow so she could meet Jackie’s eyes. “Juilliard has an 8% acceptance rate.”

“And NYU?”

“20%”

Jackie shrugged. “And what about it? You’re more talented than every one of those other bitches and you know it.”

Jan sighed, letting her eyes fall down to the bed beneath them, fingers tracing aimless patterns into the worn blanket.“I dunno, Jacks. Lately I’ve been wondering if I even wanna do music.”

“Are you serious?” Jackie asked incredulously.

The thought that Jan, the girl with musical notes for blood cells, wasn’t sure about her future was… alarming to say the least.

If anybody should be comfortable picking a path in life, she should.

Student body president, Homecoming Royalty, captain of the cheer team, soccer star, salutatorian. She was the perfect addition to any collegiate program.

Although Jackie supposed it made sense. Jan had been so driven, had worked so hard for so long that she had barely had time to breathe let alone think for herself. Always so concerned with what came next.

Freedom must seem like the scariest thing imaginable.

“Is this because of what happened at your audition last month?” Jackie pressed, still unable to fully wrap her mind around what she was hearing.

“No? Well, yes.” She sighed once more. “I dunno. I just don’t know if that’s my… thing. You know? Like for the rest of my life…” Jan trailed off.

Jackie nodded. She did know.

Just because she was happy with her chosen track didn’t mean she was sure of it.

But she had been in a similar position not too long ago when she had come out to her less than enthusiastic parents. Jackie had defined herself by her family and the rules of her culture since the day she could comprehend them.

It was scary, feeling so untethered.

The only reason she had gotten through it was the knowledge that she would get to escape one day. That college would come and she could be free from all the expectations and the pressure and the rules.

But Jan wasn’t like that. She craved rules and discipline and order. So much so that it had overshadowed everything else. Order had always come first. Before passion, before reason, before joy.

“Well you know,” Jackie paused, “you don’t have to decide right now.”

Jan looked up at her, eyes wide in confusion.“Applications are due next week I have to-”

Jackie cut her off with a shake of her head. “Who says you even have to go to college?”

The younger girl stared at her for a moment, mouth hanging open in shock, like she couldn’t believe that Jackie was actually encouraging what she was encouraging. “My parents-”

“Oh fuck off,” Jackie scoffed. “You don’t actually care what they think.”

Jan couldn’t meet her eyes anymore, shoulders tense as she attempted to process. Her fingers were flexing unconsciously against the sheets as her mind spun, falling over itself at the idea that she had the option to take her time.

That she didn’t have to keep running anymore. That she could finally slow down.

Jackie saw it all play out behind her eyes, and she noticed the moment that Jan shut down, not allowing herself to bask in the possibility.

She went to protest again. “Jacks-”

“You don’t have to pick your career right now,” Jackie said firmly, in that tone that always made Jan shut up and actually listen to her. She wasn’t sure why she was pushing so hard, but she couldn’t stop herself, the unrelenting need to assure Jan that she was fine and she had time making her mouth move before her brain could stop it. “You’re 18. You’ve got so much time. You can take a year off, or two years off, or never fucking go to college if you don’t want to.”

Jan still wouldn’t look at her, body still tense, mind still scattered; Jackie gently took hold one of Jan’s hands in her own, squeezing it gently in reassurance.

“You have time to figure it all out. And you will.” Jackie smiled lightly to herself. “I know you will.”

Because it’s you. She wanted to say. Because it’s you and you’re so incredible. And nothing you ever do in your whole life can be anything less than incredible.

Jackie looked up to find Jan staring at her with soft eyes, adoration so clearly etched in the lines on her face.

“What are you staring at?” Jackie coughed awkwardly, a hand coming up to worry the skin on the back of her neck, flush spreading subconsciously.

“Nothing.” Jan smiled, shaking her head and squeezing Jackie’s hand in hers. “It’s just… you’re gonna be a great lawyer.”

…

Jackie’s head hung off the side of Jan’s bed several hours later as the student body president looked through her color-coded planner, mind unfocused. Thoughts of sleep wandered through Jackie’s exhausted brain, but she forced her eyes open, meeting Jan’s even as she was upside down.

“Whatcha thinking bout?” Jackie asked her, with a lopsided grin.

“That you look silly like that,” Jan teased.

“Funny, you look normal.”

Jan’s eyes widened comically and her mouth hung open in a show of mock offense before she proceeded to poke Jackie none too lightly in the side over and over and over again. This lead to the both of them playfully hitting at each other like children, eventually causing Jackie to fall gracelessly off the bed and onto the floor, the two old friends proceeding to collapse into a fit of giggles and eventually calling a truce as they caught their breaths.

Their laughter subsided after an immeasurable amount of time and a comfortable silence fell between the two.

But then, Jan’s peaceful smile faltered.

“Are you thinking about her?”

Jackie felt her shoulders tense, the sudden change of tone making goosebumps rise on her skin. “Gotta be more specific than that,” she tried and failed to joke.

“Gigi,” Jan muttered, staring intently at Jackie, eyes brimming with… something that Jackie didn’t entirely recognize.

“Why?”

Jan shrugged. “I dunno. You were gonna go with her to Homecoming and then all of a sudden you weren’t.”

Jackie looked at Jan hard for a moment, unsure of where this line of questioning was coming from, and not sure she wanted to find out where it was going, as Jan’s stare was blank and unassuming - a dramatic deviation from her usual bubbly self.

Jackie shook her head as if to communicate that it wasn’t a big deal. “She wanted to go with someone else. It wasn’t a set in stone kinda thing. We were only going as friends.”

You knew that. Jackie wanted to say.

Because Jan had known that. Had known both of them for her whole life and not once had she… made this connection before.

The student body president nodded slowly, almost as if weighing Jackie’s answer. “So you don’t…” Jan paused, choosing her next words carefully, “have… feelings for her?”

Jackie felt something unpleasant settle in her stomach. Something that felt quite a bit like anger.

They didn’t talk about this.

Not about boys, or girls, or attraction in general. Jan always had Bryce and Jackie always kept her mouth shut.

“Why?” Jackie tried to keep her voice level, and not let the selfish, angry part of herself lash out.

“I’m just curious.” Jan shrugged, detached tone still making Jackie uneasy. “You never tell me about girls you like, and you and Gigi were all over each other at Widow’s birthday.”

Suddenly, the remaining pieces fell into place.

“So were you and Jaida,” Jackie shot back before she could think better of it.

Jan immediately shrunk in on herself, as if Jackie’s words had been physical blows. “That was different.”

Jackie laughed bitterly, the pooing disgust in her gut brimming to the surface. She raised one eyebrow pointedly, making unyielding eye contact with Jan. “Was it?”

Suddenly Jan was much closer than Jackie remembered her being, and she must have sat up or something because she could feel Jan’s labored breathing against her face now.

And just as suddenly as she noticed it, Jan was leaning across the small space between them to press her lips firmly, decidedly against Jackie’s.

Jackie’s entire body froze, suspended a freefall for several seconds.

The change from anger to elation was so sudden, so consuming, that her whole body felt aflame.

After a beat, her brain slowly kicked back online and she began to move her mouth in time with Jan’s bruising kisses.

Jan tasted like coffee and sunshine and a familiarity that made Jackie’s spine tingle. And Jackie didn’t know how she had gone so long without tasting her.

The kiss turned slow, lazy almost, as the two old friends lingered in each other’s space long after they had come up for air.

But when the student body president pulled away, there was something decidedly less joyful in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jan started to apologize.

Jackie smiled lightly. “It’s okay.”

Jan kept shaking her head back and forth quickly, anxiety creeping into her words.“No, I mean… I shouldn’t have done that. I… I wanted to see if… I thought maybe-”

Jackie reached out with a gentle hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of Jan’s face, but the younger flinched back like the contact burned, and the sick feeling in Jackie’s stomach was back, threatening to suffocate her.

“Take your time, it’s okay,” A rejected Jackie nearly whispered.

Jan just kept shaking her head, letting out a puff of air through her nose. “It’s really not.”

Jackie looked at her, really looked at her for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It finally came in the form of Jan’s teary eyes meeting Jackie’s.

I’m sorry. They said without words.

And suddenly it hit her what exactly Jan was apologizing for.

“You… you don’t like me like that. Do you?” Jackie said slowly, allowing each of the words to drift from the back of her tongue and fall off her lips coldly.

Jan met her eyes again, lip held tightly between her two perfect rows of teeth, and shook her head.

Jackie nodded. “It’s Jaida, isn’t it?” she couldn’t keep the disgust out of her mouth.

Jan hesitated, freezing up for a beat before giving in and nodding minutely.

The silence was back, heavy now in the wake of Jan’s admissions.

And then suddenly, all the years of repressed feelings came bubbling to the surface, and Jackie was helpless to stop the anger from winning out this time.

“Why didn’t you tell me? What, you didn’t think I’d understand? Didn’t think I could handle it?” She spat.

Jan shook her head, helpless. “I didn’t know how to-”

“You didn’t even fucking come out to me! I didn’t know you liked girls, I had to use fucking context clues!”

“I didn’t know how to tell you it was someone else.” Jan rushed out. “I always thought, if it were going to be anyone, I thought it’d be you…” she shook her head sadly. “But it’s not and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how to tell myself.”

“So what, you just fucking kissed me for what?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well, you fucking failed”

Jackie, vision blurry in a mix of rage and hurt, started grabbing her school materials and shoving them blindly into her bag.

Jan tried to stop her. “Jacks-”

“Don’t.” The ice in Jackie’s voice shut Jan up immediately, the younger girl sinking back into her position on the bedroom floor.

Jackie made her way to the door, silently fuming to herself. She only stopped when she heard Jan’s meek voice from behind her.

“I’m sorry. I wanted it to be you.”

Jackie laughed bitterly, facing the door to hide the tears threatening to spill over. “You can’t help who you like, Jan.”

…

Jan’s words echoed in Jackie’s head as she fled the house.

“I wanted it to be you.”

Me too. Jackie thought. Me fucking too.

She wanted to be angry. So much so that she convinced herself she was. Cursing Jan’s name under her breath, wishing they’d never met in the first place.

But as soon as the chill of the October air hit her skin, she felt the tears fall. She was helpless to stop them, so she didn’t try to.

As she wandered around the familiar houses of their neighborhood, all dark save for the one at the start of the road, she let the past years of fear and regret and sadness fall from her eyes.

She sat under the flickering streetlamp at the start of their street, ignoring the way the harsh sidewalk rubbed rough against her clothes.

“I wanted it to be you.”

“I wanted it to be you.”

“I wanted it to be you.”

The words circling around and around and around in her head like a merry go round.

It would be so much simpler. So much cleaner and nicer and easier if Jan could just love her back. Could force herself to settle for someone as plain and boring and utterly inferior as Jackie.

It would be easier. And it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Because even if she did, even if Jan could love her, Jackie would always know that she wasn’t good enough. And it would hurt, but it would be fine because at least she could be mostly happy. And it would only hurt in that quiet, burning kind of way that you only ever felt if you moved a certain way.

Yes, it would be easier that way.

But Jackie couldn’t ask her to do that.

But maybe…

Just maybe…

She could ask someone else.

Before Jackie could think it through, she was across the street knocking loudly on the only other house with a light in the window.

She waited impatiently, leg bouncing up and down, rapping once again on the door until it swung open revealing a mostly tired, slightly surprised Gigi.

Jackie didn’t think, she just pulled Gigi in by her hips and angled her head to capture her lips in a kiss that felt like a lie.

Gigi let out a surprised yelp a first, then froze as Jackie’s lips moved passionately against her own. But Jackie didn’t let up, only doubling down on her efforts, channeling everything she couldn’t say to Jan into Gigi’s mouth.

Ultimately, the younger girl melted, kissing back cautiously if not a bit demurely.

When Jackie finally relented, letting Gigi up for lungfuls of air, she couldn’t help the satisfied feeling pooling in her gut.

Gigi stared at her, wide eyes showing a mixture of shock and awe and a tiny bit of desire.

“Y-You don’t want me,” she finally managed to say.

It was only then that Jackie noticed her red eyes.

She had been crying too.

What a pair they made.

“I’m so sick of people telling me what I want.” Jackie whispered. “I want you. I want to be with you.”

Gigi looked at her hard, gnawing at her bottom lip.

After a beat, she nodded.

Gigi still looked nervous, like Jackie was going to take it all back and change her mind, but Jackie was too high off of the intoxicating mix of desire and anger and pain.

She pulled Gigi into another bruising kiss and pretended she tasted like coffee.

[norafike]

Despite all this, I still love you 26

“Got anythin' coming up, Nora?” Cripps lurked outside the tent with a small smile, he could see her through the crack in the tent, lying on her cot and sulking the hours away just as she had done these past few days. “Any jobs or such?”

“No.”

“Well, surely there is something you can do… why not help your brothers out on a job?” It was a simple suggestion but the thought alone caused her to groan loudly, it wasn't that a job scared her but working with her brothers was a nightmare.

Nora pushed herself from the cot, pulled the tent flaps aside and gave Cripps a stern glare. “I don't know if you've met Harry an' James, but working with them is stressful.”

“I know but it gives you something to do… but you look awful.”

“Point out the obvious, I feel awful so please let me be.” She tried to close the tent flaps again to shield herself away from the others but Cripps wouldn't let her this time and held it open, just to keep talking.

“You got to do something to keep occupied, Nora.” He tried pleading but this was only another excuse to keep her from moping about camp and bothering him.

“I'm keepin' myself occupied plenty.” She said, rather bluntly.

“How the hell are you keeping occupied while holed up in here? There's not a lot to do.” His question was simple but it caused Nora's face to turn a shade of red and when she failed to come up with a response he realised just what she implied. “Oh, I really didn't want that image.”

“You asked.”

“Not that, oh christ… look, for that alone I want you to help them with a bounty for my sake, please.”

“Shouldn't have asked questions, JB.” She let out a long sigh. “Just give me a minute and I'll go with them. Make sure they don't leave without me.”

“Thank god.” Cripps trotted off with a gleeful expression and she rolled her eyes at his mock joy before concealing herself in the tent to get dressed in cleaner clothes in private.

...

“She still has that bounty huntin' passion, I see!” Harry exclaimed once he saw her exit her tent, dressed in the same old clothes she would used to wear on their old jobs. She grinned all the same, firmly patting Casper's neck.

“So who we going after boys?” James dug into his satchel and pulled free a poster he had taken from a bounty board, handing it over for her to analyse herself. She narrowed her eyes to read the print and drew out a shuddered breath, oh she had heard this name before.

“Gene again?” James nodded to answer her question.

“We turned in him last year, how did he get out?” Nora continued her questions but the boys didn't mind and they were all able to talk while riding. She followed behind them, they knew the way to this outlaws new location better than she did.

“Apparently some friends thought it'd be a good idea to cut him loose. Killed about half the lawmen in town unfortunately and he got away, couldn't stay low for too long and already started the same old crimes once again. Wasn't long before we caught up with him.”

“They never learn.”

“Yes well, we ain't ones to judge them on their criminal ways.”

Nora laughed lightly. “Oh, I know this, brother.” With that said they rode out in comfortable silence, picking up speed on their adventure to get to this new spot quicker than what a small trot would take them.

Gene Finley never did travel far from Lemoyne it seemed and given that the Van Der Linde gang were now occupying Shady Belle it wasn't like he could drive them out and take it back himself, no, that would get him killed for sure. So instead he settled for the next best thing, what had been left of Braithwaite manor; now reduced to an ashy ruin.

Nora expected there to be some people left but the place was practically abandoned now that there was no Braithwaite's to be left, it didn't surprise her in the slightest and was almost nice to see the area empty instead of infested with those same parasites that lurked there before. Oh, how she hated the Braithwaite's since her run-in with them.

“Can't believe he chose that old shit dump as a new gang location. The place ain't gonna help 'em.”

“It's smart because ain't nobody there no more.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.” She spurred for Casper to go faster and she ended up taking over Harry who let out a splutter of curses that he was now trailing behind.

...

Nora's Hungarian halfbred stopped just short of Braithwaite manor, bucking wildly now that they were so close to the ruins of the old house. Nora struggled to dismount but she didn't wish to be thrown off of the horse because it had been spooked by unknown forces, perhaps the ghosts of the Braithwaite's were what had Casper in such a frenzy.

“Ain't never seen Casper so startled,” James called out, hitching his horse just near with Harry copying soon after. She nodded too, it being quite peculiar for the beloved stallion to act up in such away.

“He'll be fine. Probably got startled by a snake.” She excused on his behalf before passing him an apple, cautiously reaching for his mouth. Her brothers watched with a smirk painted on their faces but they dropped it slowly as Nora managed to calm the animal, both sharing an astonished expression at how in control of her animal they didn't believe she actually was. “Right, let's go grab Gene "Beau" Finley, shall we?”

...

Nora crouched down behind one of the old pillars that decorated the exterior of the house, keeping her rifle ready while she watched some guards, as she presumed them to be, march back and forth the ruins. A couple of times Nora, as well as her brothers, were close to being caught but they managed to hide themselves just enough to not be seen.

“Harry.” She whisper-shouted to call him and he crept closer just as instructed.

“What?”

She pointed towards her left, giving him a firm stare. “You and James head that way, Gene's down there if you notice… we can cut him off from those sides, he can't go anywhere else from there.”

“Well, he can go West but whatever.”

“Into the fields. There's not a lot there beside a few crops. A lot of it's died out by now, not been looked after since, well, this assault on the manor.”

“Yeah.” He pulled his sawed-off shotgun from its holster and with a subtle flick, beckoned James to come over. He whispered to his brother a “come on,” before disappearing with him behind the rubble.

She pushed herself off of the pillar and followed along the porch, cursing silently when the boards would occasionally creak beneath her weight. Eventually, Nora had managed to move closer towards the bounty in question and quickly hid behind one of the walls and listened closely for any plans the group may have coming up; in case the opportunity for a bank robbery was to present itself then maybe she could drag the boys out on that too.

On the other end of the garden, Harry and James had split up to cover different parts around the land feeling that sticking together wasn't going to be beneficial in any way. Their sister probably wouldn't be happy with this branch from their original plan but that was an argument saved for later, their new one was significantly better.

They waited for no signal, once everyone was in their eyesight they aimed their guns and began shooting. Careful to avoid their target as they fancied being paid in full but also showing no mercy for anyone else who had associated themselves with Gene, it was strictly business what they were doing.

Nora swore loudly at the bullets flying around. In the moment she was worried about her brothers and poked her head just above the wall in time to see Harry and that stupid yellow coat run straight into the group so he could grab the bounty and in a short time, James trailed behind him providing cover fire. She sank back down and leaned her head back, wondering what possessed her to think this was a good idea. Nora worried but at the same time, she was pissed.

“You boys are so reckless, aye!” Nora cried as she jumped from her hiding spot, taking her revolver from the holster and aiming from the hip at some men who ran past.

“Testin' you to see if you still had what it takes to fight,” Harry called back, tackling a guard to the ground and punching him a couple of times to save him from being shot.

She rolled her eyes at the reply before shouting back “I do, it's called common sense,” something that he didn't look too pleased with hearing.

“Really funny.” He said back. She looked his way with a smile but it dropped when she saw him collapse to the floor with blood staining the bright yellow of his coat, she looked back at James worried who hadn't even noticed his own twin fall to the floor.

“Focus on Harry, I can handle the rest of them!” James called out and quickly she rushed to her brothers' side, already fearing the worst.

He was rolling around in agony but was very much alive and that was relief enough that she hadn't lost her younger brother. She gently slapped his other arm and scolded him for his recklessness before helping to move him to a safer location where he wasn't lying directly in their small battlefield.

“He's alive... but I swear I'm gonna kill him.” She told James who looked over-worried.

One guy was left but seeing as all the other hired bodyguards had been killed he opted for the best alternative and that was to flee the scene. He didn't make it very far, as Nora was tired of fighting today and wanted them all down to guarantee that they could return Gene to his cell, so she raised her gun and fired a bullet into his back and then another to make sure.

Gene "Beau" Finley coward in the remains of Braithwaite manor but slowly crept out towards the siblings, his hands raised high in defense. He would still laugh at the same time, impressed with how effortlessly it seemed they had dealt with the situation but there was no joke behind it.

“You three are good.” He complimented. Nora shot James a look and he nodded at the silent instruction, taking his lasso out and hogtying the bounty without a second thought.

Nora walked over to her other brother and took his arm over her shoulders, pulling him to his feet. He groaned at the pain that flared up and she made a small comment about understanding it, feeling almost sorry for him as she did so but he didn't hear what she said. “James., Nora called.

“What?”

“Think you can take Gene to Rhodes? I think Harry shouldn't dawdle around much longer.” James nodded to answer as he carried the target over towards his horse and when he was gone she turned towards Harry with a frown.

“This is what happens when you do things with no plan, Harold.” She said calmly. Her brother mumbled something but she didn't hear what he had said, knowing him though it was probably some sarcastic remark about how her plan was stupid anyway.

She whistled for Casper and he did the same for his Annabelle.

When the horses were near she helped Harry onto the rump of Casper before she mounted the horse herself. He still seemed very agitated by being at Braithwaite manor but it took a few firm pats and he had calmed some, now she just needed to get him far from the ruins.

...

“Cripps!” Nora shouted, her voice sounding a little shaky while she did so. It took him a minute but he sauntered on over with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. It dropped however, when he noticed the state her brother had returned in.

“What the hell happened?” His question was worthless, he could see as clear as day what had happened and there weren't any other explanations otherwise.

“Jus' help me get him to his tent.” She mumbled and he nodded slowly, helping him off of the horse and onto his feet. He didn't wait for Nora and was more adamant about getting him to the cot to take a look at the damage, assess just how bad it could be.

“Think you got this, Cripps?” She asked him once she made it to Harry's tent.

Cripps nodded slowly as he had him peel away the bloodied coat and shirt. “Yeah, ain't nothing too serious luckily.”

“Well, let's hope it teaches you a lesson Harold.” She said, although it was more of a joke than a warning.

With the sun setting and the tent getting darker, Cripps lit a lantern so he could see better while he worked on bandaging the wound and once she was certain that her brother was left in safe hands she left them to themselves.

Her tent was farther away and while she got closer she could hear the idle chatter from the two fade out until it was nothing but a dull murmur in the distance.

She pulled the flap aside so she could walk in but stopped herself when she heard a rustle in the bushes nearby. She thought it was an animal and so waited, expecting a fox or a bunny to jump out and attempt to help itself to the group's food… but the more the rustling got closer the more a shape could be made out amidst the shadows and trees and it was far too big to belong to a small woodland creature.

It groaned with every step taken and she pulled her revolver free from the holster, raising it with caution while this shape moved closer towards her.

Nora took a few steps back while it drew closer and she aimed her gun with a steady hand, ready to shoot if need be. Eventually, the shape stepped into the light and she could see the bloody remains of a man who was just barely alive, grasping onto his breath with what he had left.

She took in his face and the recognition kicked in, from the same scared look and “puppy dog eyes”. There was no greeting between them before his legs gave way and he collapsed forward, but she was able to react just in time and catch him before he hit the floor.

She picked him up as best as he could, cursing out loud with the question of where James could be to help them.

She got him stable before looking back over towards the boy's tents, shouting over the quiet. “Cripps…! Cripps, it's Kieran!”

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (2/?)

A/n: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Read Part 1

____________

Chapter 2: Getting Along

There was so much you still had to learn about mice and Salamandrian men; minus the mice part. You were surprised by V'gha's chattiness. Why, it was no sooner when you two had taken a seat that he began asking about your culture, interests, as well as to what you did for occupation. It seemed that he was fascinated by how both you and Zeta-7 lived; being that you were the only human he's officially met, he wanted answers for the questions which his home world's databases could not answer. You couldn't fool him when it came to your acquaintance with Rick as his neighbor, but you played it off by saying that he was the local mad scientist that everyone knew of but gave little importance to; it hurts you to say this, for he was worthy of the highest praise, with his extraordinary mind and his winsome personality, but V'gha was more familiar with Zeta-7 then you had known; it seemed Rick had a bigger reputation then you had thought, and the chemist hoped that he could make his acquaintance once all this was over; how he could be interested after all your initial rudeness was inspiring and in its own right.

You found his straightforward nature refreshing, albeit at times coming across as nosy, but first impressions at times gave allowances for this; to discover that despite how one may come across in passing, is not always the sincerest, true version of oneself. There was no malice or ill intent in his inquiries or reactions to your answers, and while you had redirected many of his questions, he didn't seem to mind; whatever you shared gave him delight. Over and over you wondered why Rick couldn't have been seated at this table, for this creature could have shared all that fascinated him with a fellow scientist and they could have debated in peace over theories and experiments; for your part, you would have sat there raptly, admiring the like-minded individuals who might or might not have been jealous at one point or another over understandings, discoveries and what not. As you two talked, you scanned the garden with your eyes, and searched for Rick, but couldn't spot his bowl cut anywhere; you trusted that he'd show up one way or another, but you hoped for sooner rather than later. In the meantime, you two discussed how fascinating the planet and its inhabitants were while making remarks on the flavor of the food  "My soup is thin and looks as though I stuck my foot in it, but it tastes like honey." you commented as you set your spoon back down. "I'm not sure whether to drink it or to jar it."

"Neither. It's what your utensils will go in once you are done eating."

"Oh, I probably shouldn't have tasted it then."

"No harm will be done." he chuckled, which exposed his fine, sharp rows of teeth. "I've taken the liberty of scanning it to make sure."

If Zeta-7 had been here, he might've tried the utensil cleaner on purpose in the good ole' way of tasting the chemical when he should've tested it. Yet, since he wasn't here, you were ready to admit that you found V'gha a bit more intriguing then you had anticipated. When you had initially boarded the ship and met him upon entering a cabin, you were determined to despise him for you didn't want to appear weak in front of strangers, but it melted away as he decided to apologize once you two had reached your assigned table. Sure, you weren't really into reptiles, but whether it was how his skin glistened in the starlight, his intellect, or how his bright oval eyes seemed to bore into you as you spoke, it was somewhat flattering; you thought only Rick could make you feel this way; hopefully, it was his simple charm and newfound politeness, and nothing more. To ease the anxious thoughts which were building in your chest, you glanced at the empty third chair. "Do you think Noathamas is in trouble?"

"I'm not sure." he confessed in all seriousness. "After all, he did violate one of their laws which was not to eat any of the guests. I don't know what came over him, but hopefully, whatever consequences come his way, will simply be disciplinary action and nothing more."

"Yeah, that would be good."

Though, you blamed the fact that the knight had returned from battle not long ago, and might've been triggered by something done or said; you hoped he'd survive. To distract yourself further, you stabbed your synthesized meal. It was a mass of congealed worm meal, and you pretended to eat it, but you weren't really hungry; it was supposed to be calcium-rich if you were correct. "So," you wondered as you pushed away your dish. "where you're from, do you do stuff like this?"

"You mean attend formal gatherings where I'm not allowed to have fun? Or meet total strangers that I'd rather study then stand next to? Hmm, more often than I'd like. It does have its perks. I'm highly respected in my field and get paid well, but I don't get out much unless it's work-related. A majority of my free time is used to study journals or to sleep. Occasionally both."

"That's a bummer. Not the studying part, because that can be fun if it's a topic you're passionate about, but you strike me as someone who enjoys good company. I'm surprised that at this point you haven't mentioned hanging out with friends or family."

The pause in conversation didn't seem long enough for your liking, but neither was it short enough to keep its natural flow. There seemed to be a distant, far off look, as though he were staring through you, at someone else; longing; one which would've gone without notice if you hadn't been used to reading people who were like Rick; intelligent, curious, lonely people who were less like normal men, but were no less mortal, and not quite a machine. When he started, you hadn't expected the familiarity in his words. "I consider my lab as my friend and my lab samples as my family. It's where I am most of the time."

Before you met Rick, would he have said the same? Almost, for his inventions and things bought, made, or salvaged held meaning; he was very sentimental but desperate to cling on to good feelings; maybe, these two weren't so different. "I used to feel the same way about the characters I wrote," you started, wondering if this was a good idea. Yet, now that you've shared this much, you couldn't stop now. "and the stories which I typed for others consumption and entertainment. It's as though you spill and pour a bit of yourself into these dreams and passions. As a famous singer once sang, 'You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.'"

"What a way to put it. I think I might've heard the song you quoted some years ago. I believe my satellites picked up the transmission."

You smiled at that. You had heard the stories, read the theories, and admired man's will of wanting to make contact with the unknown; if only they would have known what they were getting themselves into. It wasn't all bad, and could very much be as Star Trek would put it, 'To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no man has gone before!' And to watch an intellectual man like Zeta-7 to almost wax poetic about the marvels and atrocities which were in the depths of space, and listening to how an alien admired what was in another quadrant of space, why it warmed your heart. "That's neat. It's funny," you admitted a bit quietly at first, then you raised your eyes towards him. "I'm not used to these kinds of events, but I gotta admit that it hasn't been so bad. You've made an otherwise tiresome task a joyful one."

You had long since noticed that his face was very stiff when it came to expressing emotions, but he still managed a smile that was no less winning. And unlike most of the evening there was an unaccountable silence. Till now, it seemed nothing could stop the Salamandrian from talking, but whatever had come over him went away as a danceable tune began to play, and you felt a subtle shift as he stood and wondered if you cared to dance. Keeping in mind the strict rules of this planet, you raised a brow, but he seemed to know what to do. "Come, I'll show you how it is done."

With a nod, you followed him all the while keeping a fair distance. Beneath your feet, you felt the bumpy path through your thin flats and relished the strong gust of wind that whipped your hair about. If you had closed your eyes, you could almost imagine yourself back home in Rick's backyard, remembering one of the first times you urged him to dance under the moonlit night, admiring how he colored when you realized it was a first for him; reluctant he stood on the patio unsure of what to do, but you smiled at him and told him there wasn't much to it because it was simply more romantic. Oh, how your heart ached for those days, but there wasn't much time to continue reminiscing, for you were dragged back to reality by the candor of the chemist's voice. "We're here."

On a raised platform was a honeycomb pattern of tiles, which illuminated when stepped on. V'gha took his place and stood very still until a see-through chamber enclosed him in. There was no panic or surprise, which led you to believe that he had done this before. In like manner, you followed his lead and took your place a few feet away and stood still until a chamber rose to encapsulate you in it. You felt a tightness in your chest, and took deep breaths in order not to panic, but a new tune began to play and it struck you with a sense of deja vu. 

A glance at the stage revealed the appearance of a tall, veiled figure surrounded by six guards. You pressed a hand over your heart, feeling it quicken as he swiftly, but gently passed his fingers over a golden orbed plant which had very stiff leaves, and when it detected movement, it vibrated, and this, in turn, caused it to emanate a sound a little more delicate than that of a kalimba. Its melody seeped into your bones, buzzing against your skin, and in it you felt a sense of belonging and warmth to a moment. Along with the veiled figure was the being made of pure energy, whose voice added body to the already beautiful tune; flowers bloomed at high frequencies, and thread-thin roots spread along the stage and dance floor; illuminating at rhythmic intervals.

You imagined yourself dancing with Zeta-7, on a plane of nothingness; submerged in a viscous sweetness then rising to the surface; floating, falling, losing yourself in a funny world, with every intrinsic, idiosyncratic, and inviting thing in your path; laced fingers, shared breaths, surrounded by his warmth, secure in the nearness of him, and sure in his grasp; he was incandescently happy, and he was as much yourself as you were of him. "C-can you hear me princess?" he whispered.

You could hear him, but you couldn't answer. Lips ghosted over yours, whispering phrases you thought you recognized; haunting you; trying to tell you something of the utmost importance, but the song ceased, and the figure was gone; breaking the trance you hadn't known you'd been under. When the chamber returned from whence it had come, you followed V'gha back to the table; confused, embarrassed, lost, but with a sense of knowing. You thought to yourself that the veiled figure could've been Rick, for who else could evoke such feelings except for Rick; that or it truly was a tune which was out of this world. "You're quite a dancer." he commented, which interrupted your thoughts.

"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything."

Taking a sip of his murky beverage, he explained. "There is no physical dancing done on this planet, except to those exclusively done by royalty and that of the Milleannos guardians. What the rest of us did, including yourself, was dance with our soul. None of us can really discern what the other is dancing to, which makes it appropriate and is in line with the laws, but while the others might not have understood what you were about, I could tell from the bliss which you exhibited on your face when we came back this way. It made me conclude you had enjoyed yourself. Call it instinct, but I believe this is the happiest you've been all evening."

Again, he wasn't wrong. Yet, how could you not know? It's possible that Zeta-7 didn't know it would take place either. You remembered how you felt, how real and tangible it seemed, but if that was the case, were you really dancing with Rick, or the idea of him? Did it matter? 

The music now, albeit stimulating, was light and nearly silent as though someone was lightly humming. It was not as provoking as the tune earlier had been, but perhaps the experience you had was exclusive to your own feelings. "I did enjoy myself," you replied. "did you?"

"It was fascinating," he admitted smoothly. "but I much more prefer the view of all twenty-nine of this planet's moons. I cannot study the intangible thought of a feeling."

"If it helps, I much would've preferred regular dancing, but the experience...it's… it's one I wouldn't mind trying again." 

One you wouldn't mind trying again, but only with Rick.

Tbc

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 30

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 30 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 30/? SUMMARY:  The Doctor’s death is looming on the horizon and Elise is growing every  day. What the Doctor doesn’t know is that he has 200 years to teach Elise all he knows. Amy, Rory, and River let Elise in on their secret,  because River knows she will keep it. What will Elise do when he’s gone?

[A/N - Chapter 30! God, can you believe it? Just a few more chapters till the end! Are you ready?]

After retrieving Joe, they went back to the restaurant. Joe was lying on a table while the Doctor scanned him.

Rita was making tea for everyone.

Howie and Rory were trying to find things to barricade the door with.

“If we can wedge a chair under the door handles, that should stop anything from getting in,” Rory said.

Rita walked over to the Doctor and Elise with mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” Elise said.

“What exactly happened to him?” Rita asked, gesturing to Joe.

“He died,” the Doctor told her.

“You are a medical doctor, aren't you? You haven't just got a degree in cheese-making or something.”

“No! Well, yes, both, actually. I mean, there is no cause. All his vital organs simply stopped, as if the simple spark of life, his loves and hates, his faiths and fears were just taken…” The Doctor sniffed his mug. “…and this is a cup of tea.”

Well what else would it be? Elise wanted to say something, but the Doctor clearly wasn’t having any of her attitude on this trip. In human years, Elise would be classified as a teenager. Is that why she felt angry or sad all the time? Hormones?

“Of course, I'm British, it's how we cope with trauma. That and tutting,” Rita said.

“But how did you make it?”

“All hotels should have a well stocked kitchen, even alien fake ones. I heard you talking when you arrived. Look, it's no more ridiculous than Howie's CIA theory, or mine.”

“Which is?”

“This is Jahannam.”

“You're a Muslim.”

“Don't be frightened.”

The Doctor laughed. “You think this is Hell.”

“The whole '80s hotel thing took me by surprise, though.”

“And all these fears and phobias wandering about, most are completely unconnected to us, so why are they still here?”

Rita sighed. “Maybe the cleaners have gone on strike.”

The Doctor chuckled. “I like you. You're a right clever clogs. But this isn't Hell, Rita.”

“You don't understand. I say that without fear. Jahannam will play its tricks, and there'll be times when I want to run and scream, but I've tried to live a good life, and that knowledge keeps me sane, despite the monsters and the bonkers rooms. Gibbis is an alien, isn't he?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Okay. I'm going to file that under Freak Out About Later.”

“Doctor, look at this. I found it in a corridor, I completely forgot I had it,” Amy said, handing over the paper she found earlier.

The Doctor playfully smacked her on the head with it. “My name is Lucy Hayward and I'm the last one left. It took Luke first. It got him on his first day, almost as soon as we arrived. It's funny. You don't know what's going to be in your room until you see it, then you realize it could never have been anything else. I just saw mine. It was a gorilla from a book I'd read as a kid. My God, that thing used to terrify me. The gaps between my worships are getting shorter, like contractions. This is what happened to the others, and how lucky they were. It's all so clear now. I'm so happy. Praise him. Praise him.”

“Praise him,” Howie said.

Everyone’s heads turned towards him.

“What did you just say?” the Doctor asked.

“Nothing. Praise him!”

“This is what happened to Joe!” Gibbis shrieked.

“God, it's going to come for me now,” Howie moaned.

“You'll lead it right here.”

“I won't leave you. I promise you. You have my word on that,” the Doctor reassured him.

“I don't want to get eaten.”

“Calm down,” Amy said.

“He's going to lead the creature right here!” Gibbis yelled.

Elise really wanted to hit him to get him to shut up.

The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver. It whirred loudly and everyone went quiet. “Thank you.”

“Don't you see? He'll lead it right here,” Gibbis said.

“What do you suggest?” Rita asked.

“Look, whatever it is out there, it's obviously chosen Howard as its next course. Now, tragic though that is, this is no time for sentiment. I'm saying if it were to find him, it may be satisfied and let the rest of us go. All I want to do is go home and be conquered and oppressed. Is that too much to ask?!”

Elise opened her mouth to go off on Gibbis, but was cut off by Rita.

“It's okay. I'll stay with Howie. You take the others and go.”

“No. We stay together,” the Doctor said. The Doctor walked over to Gibbis. “Your civilization is one of the oldest in the galaxy. Now I see why. Your cowardice isn't quaint, it's sly, aggressive. Its how that gene of gutlessness has survived while so many others have perished. Well, not today. No one else dies today. Right?”

Gibbis nodded.

“Brilliant. Howie, any second, it's going to possess you again. When it does, I'm going to ask you some questions. Please try to answer them.”

They all sat down at a table, except Elise. She was too restless, so she settled for standing behind her father.

“I hope my mum's all right, she's going to be w-worried,” Howie said. Something came over him.

“Howie?” the Doctor asked.

Howie started smiling.

“Howie. Howie, you're next. We're all dead jealous. So, tell us. How do we get a piece of the action? Why isn't he possessing all of us?”

Howie laughed. “You guys have got all these distractions, all these obstacles. It'd be so much easier if you just let it go, you know? Clear the path.”

“You want it to find you even though you know what it's going to do?” Amy asked.

“Are you kidding? He's going to kill us all. How cool is that?”

They all got up, leaving Howie at the table by himself.

“It's as I thought. It feeds on fear. Everything, the rooms, Lucy's note, even the pictures in reception, has been put here to frighten us. So we have to resist it. Do whatever you have to. Cross your fingers, say a prayer, think of a basket of kittens, but do not give in to the fear,” the Doctor told them.

“Okay, but what are we actually going to do?” Amy asked.

“We're going to catch ourselves a monster.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They managed to trap the monster, which of course happened to be a Minotaur, in the spa.

“Quite fitting isn’t it? Labyrinth of a hotel?” Elise said, “Makes sense.”

“Nothing personal. I just think we should take things slowly. Get to know each other. You take people's most primal fears and pop it in a room. A tailor-made hell, just for them. Why?” the Doctor asked.

The Minotaur snarled at them.

“Did you say they take? Ah, what is that word? The guard? No, the warden? This is a prison.” The Doctor turned and smiled at Elise. “My clever girl.”

Elise returned the smile.

“So what are we, cell mates? Lunch?”

The Minotaur growled.

“We are not ripe. This is what Joe said, that we weren't ready.”

They stepped out of the shadows and faced him.

“So, what, what, you make us ready. You what? Replace? Replace what, fear? You have lived so long even your name is lost. You want this to stop. Because you are just instinct. Then tell me. Tell me how to fight you.”

Elise’s eyes filled with tears as her hearts broke for the Minotaur. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He wanted it to be over. She knew how he felt.

“My master, my lord. I'm here! Oh! Bring me death.”

“That’s Howie,” Elise said.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

The Minotaur put it’s large fist through the glass separating them.

“Rory, watch out!” the Doctor yelled.

Amy and Rita burst in.

“Stay back!”

The Minotaur smashed the glass and knocked Rory down.

Elise rushed to side. “Rory?” she asked.

“Where'd he go?” the Doctor asked Rory.

“Somebody hit me,” Rory said, “Was it Amy?”

The Doctor got up and ran down the hallway.

“Rory, are you all right?” Rita asked him.

“We should find the Doctor,” Amy said. She stood up and walked towards room 7. She opened the door.

Rita pulled her back and shut it.

Amy, Rory, Elise, and Rita met back up with the Doctor, who had already found Howie dead. They took Howie’s body and laid it out next to Joe’s in the restaurant.

Amy placed the goldfish on a side table in the reception area.

The Doctor walked past Elise and grabbed her arm.

“Where are we going? Why aren’t the others coming?” she asked.

“Because. We’re going to go find our rooms.”

Elise laughed sarcastically. “Okay, you’ve completely lost your mind.”

“C’mon. Don’t you want to know?” The Doctor smiled when he saw the curiosity in her eyes.

As they ventured through the hallway, they could hear whispers.

Elise walked past a door with a number 10 on it. It was calling to her to open it.

Elise looked at her father and he nodded. She opened the door and saw herself standing there. Over the bodies of everyone she cared about.

Her father. Both incarnations of him. Amy. Rory. River. Outside the window, Gallifrey was burning.

She stumbled back into her father’s arms as she let out a shuddering breath. She turned and buried her face in his neck.

“Shhh”, he cooed, as she stroked her hair.

He understood her greatest fear now. Being completely alone. Just like she had been in the last days of the Time War. Before he killed them all.

“Hey”, he said, pulling her away from him. He cupped her face in his hands as tears streamed down from her blue eyes. “I’m not gonna let that happen. Do you hear me?” he told her.

Elise nodded and he placed a kiss on her forehead. She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Did…did you find your room?” she asked.

He nodded and gestured to room 11.

Elise let out a watery laugh. “Of course.”

He opened the door, just enough to peak, before closing it and putting a Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. “C’mon. We need to find the security room.