#gone off the parkour rails

[boothefanficeater]

AND NOW FOR MY FINAL TRICK.

Their ship name is prokour (pro neighbor x sunglasses pro)

[maddiebat]

Subliminal, A post-Frontiers SonAmy fic

After the events of Frontiers, Sonic and his friends have gone their separate ways. Sonic should be totally fine with traveling on his own; it's how his lifestyle has always been... and yet he can't help but feel empty without them. With the events of Rhea Island living in his head, escaping Cyperspace is only the beginning, and when he finds himself in front of Amy's apartment, he has a decision to make about confronting his surfacing subliminal thoughts.

Hey!!! This is my first sonamy fic. Very fluff, very angst, and inspired off the idle lines in Frontiers! This is just the first Chapter. The rest of the finished fic is up on my A03, which is pinned on my profile. Hope you like it! Feedback welcome!

Chapter 1 - Magnetic

Station Square, despite being a bustling metropolis, was pretty tranquil in the late hours of the night. The concrete jungle wasn’t as open and freeing as he’d like for a run, but the views from the rooftops and the atmosphere were what drew him in. Sonic was a well-known hero here, but thankfully he had saved the city so many times, he was just another part of their boring 9-5 routine. As he paced down the city blocks, people walked around him, paying him no mind. It was almost comforting to not be paid attention to and just blend into a crowd. Dashing past a hot dog stand, he snagged his meal in a blur, leaving his tip of rings behind. Even running up a streetlamp and parkouring onto an awning, he received some slight head turns, but eventually they kept walking, uninterested. Sprinting up the side of a building, he sat on the edge, letting one of his legs hang off. The already chill air started to bite him up at this height, but he didn’t mind. 

Wolfing down his food, he stared at the familiar skyline. He had grown to appreciate it almost as much as the sprawling canopies of Mystic Ruins, but the city always gave him a distant ache in his heart. Maybe it was just the way a big city made you feel small, maybe he was homesick for the forest, or maybe…maybe it was something else. His eyes drifted across his periphery, watching cars drive back and forth, sheepishly.

Then his eyes settled on a window.  

It was just an unassuming window, one of a hundred others on the building, but he felt the ice of anxiety run through his veins. The light was on, the drapes just ever so slightly pushed to the side, like the person living there liked to watch the skyline late at night too:Like they could walk out onto the balcony to enjoy the view at any moment. Without thinking, his legs started to move for him, until he realized he had jumped across the street, using the buildings like stepping stones, and arrived in front of the complex. He stared up at it perplexed, like it was a calculus equation. 

Months and months had gone by and that one window light had stayed dark. He had stopped checking after a while. But now it glowed at him in the middle of the night like a beacon, pulling him in. He recognized that every fiber of his being wanted to run up to the window and peer inside, and that unsettled him. Despite his mind screaming at him to carry on like usual, to just drop it, he didn’t stop himself from scaling up the fire escape. And when he finally landed on the balcony railing, he also didn’t stop himself from peering into the window…

The flower pot by his foot toppled over and shattered into pieces. 

He felt his arms and legs go numb from the sudden panic. Almost immediately, he heard a shuffling noise from inside and the sliding door creak open.

Amy Rose stepped out onto the balcony, dressed in a simple white nightgown, a sleeping mask pushed up against her bangs over her eyes. Looking down she saw the flower pot in pieces, a lavender rose lying helplessly on the concrete. She scanned the area cautiously, but there was only the whirr of the wind. 

Sonic held back the urge to take a deep breath, all his air trapped in his chest. He dared not move a muscle. Hanging off the balcony above hers, he watched as she inspected, praying to Chaos she didn’t glance up. 

Seeing nothing of note, she huffed dejectedly and turned to make her way back inside. 

He was horrified to face her, but watching her walk away seemed just as terrifying to him. He thought for sure his anxiety would keep him glued there forever in a decision limbo, but some autonomy in him took over. The way he felt like he was internally imploding, he thought the words would come out as a yell, but instead it was a hoarse whisper. 

“Wait—Amy..!” 

Letting go of the above balcony, he plopped in front of her. She clutched her chest in shock, eyes wide. He half expected her to clobber him with her Piko Piko hammer.  

He stood there stiff as a log, awkwardly awaiting whatever her response would be. 

“Sonic, what on earth—!?” She managed out. Despite the absolute shock of it all, she seemed to cope pretty quickly. “That was my favorite vase, you know.” 

“I can… buy you another one.” He responded meekly. He looked down, rubbing his head nervously. 

Instead of the venomous reply he expected, she simply gestured towards the door. “I know.” She smiled reassuringly. We can talk about it inside, yeah?” 

———————————————————-

Amy’s apartment felt extremely warm and familiar to him despite it being ages since he’d been inside. The interior was a lot more minimalist than he expected from her. It smelled like spice candles from the craft store with the quirky knick knacks to match. He wasn’t sure if it was the comfortable temperature or her welcoming smile, but he felt his frigid body warming up from the outside cold. 

She offered him a seat in the living room while she headed off to the kitchen to get some warm drinks. He sat rigidly on the couch with his hands tightly clasped together. He could just barely see her petite figure over the countertop from here. She was muttering to herself and opening cupboards left and right. 

His feet tapped impatiently. His fingers drummed on the couch’s armrest. If there’s one thing Sonic was excellent at, it was fidgeting and not being good at small talk. So how did he wind up in a situation where he was a fish out of water? 

More importantly, why did he do it to himself? 

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud shatter and a sharp inhale from Amy. Quicker than a blink, he was in the kitchen to see Amy on the floor, a broken mug in pieces beside her. Her hands were frozen in time like she was still trying to catch it. 

“Hey, you good?” Sonic prompted, crouching down to her level, barely grazing his hand on the small of her back. 

She let out a deep exhale. When she turned to face him, he didn’t see the bubbly Amy Rose he had always known, but someone ragged and defeated instead. 

“Yeah…just. Dropped a cup.” She muttered. She went to pick up the broken pieces, but Sonic held out his hand to stop her and shook his head, instead grabbing a broom and dustpan from the corner. They silently cleaned up the mess together, working in unspoken unison. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t even bother with the hot cocoa. You’re not a hot drink person anyway.” She remarked, dumping the dustpan into the garbage. 

Sonic’s heartstrings twisted in his chest. “Hey c’mon, I think a cup of cocoa sounds nice right about now, actually…” He offered her one of his trademark hero smiles. 

She returned a smile of her own as she walked up to the cupboard to grab another cup. This time though, Sonic beat her to it and easily snatched two off the shelf for her, setting them on the counter. 

“Alright now, where do you keep the marshmallows?”

———————————-

With two cups of hot cocoa heating up their hands, they made their way to the living room to cozy up on the sectional couch. Amy bundled herself up behind a throw blanket, but Sonic, still feeling rather awkward, sat at the cushion’s edge across from her, afraid to get too comfortable. 

There was a painful, knowing silence between them, but thankfully Amy was the one to initiate conversation. 

“So, you’re here in Station Square.” She shot him a snickering glance, remembering his less than model entry. “At three in the morning, knocking over flower pots. What’s got you in this part of town? I thought you didn’t like the city life much.” 

Sonic felt his face flush a bit. Man, he really goofed on that one. He rubbed his nose with his pointer finger. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up, by the way.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t. My sleep schedule is all messed up. You were going to say?“ she deflected. 

“Well, I figured I’d give the city a visit for once. There’s still things to like about it. Thought I could maybe catch you in town while I was at it.” 

In response to his comment, for a second, he could see that familiar sparkle in her eyes, only for her to suppress it with a gulp of hot cocoa. “Yeah, I actually just came back to Station Square earlier this week. I was in Spagonia for a few months.” 

“Spagonia? Were you on vacation?”

“Hardly.” She let a giggle slip though. That part of her that was missing. And god did he miss it. Maybe he could draw it out again. “I was studying at the university.”

“Woah Ames, no way? What did you study?” Sonic exclaimed, genuinely interested. 

His comment seemed to fluster her a bit, but she went for another sip to hide it. “Business management, some social studies, nothing crazy. I just wanted something to do, really.” She explained, trying to downplay it. “It was really nice to do something productive for myself. I’ll probably be going back soon, after the winter break.”

I wanna share that love with the world, even though it may take us far apart…

His heart dropped at the mention, but after clearing his throat for a moment, he thought of a good response. “Hey, sounds good to me.” He lied to himself. “…I wanna hear all about it when you get back.”

She nodded, Sonic’s words seeming to give her some resolve she had been needing. “Mhm.” She nervously brushed a quill away from her face. 

And there she slipped away again. Man, where was she? The Amy that was fiery as hell, brimming with optimism and energy, his Amy. Well— everyone’s Amy of course. The want for her back was enough to give him the courage to ask. “Hey Ames…you doin’ ok?”

“Oh you mean the cup? The glass didn’t cut me. It’s fine I got them on sale anyways—“

“No I mean…in general. You know.” He really wasn’t good at this kinda stuff. But he had grown up some from the emotionally stunted boy he used to be. The least he could do is ask a prompting question about his friend’s wellbeing. 

The look on her face had a million emotions painted on it. Maybe he messed up by asking, he thought to himself. Amy took a deep breath and seemed to steady her breathing, then took a small pause before answering. 

“Do you…ever think about Cyberspace?”

If a question could metaphorically make you feel hit by a truck, this was the one. It stunned him so much to have the topic brought up, he almost forgot to respond. 

“Yeah.” Was all he could muster out. 

She continued. “I know you already know how it feels, but, being trapped in Cyberspace…it felt like I wasn’t even alive anymore. I couldn’t touch, feel, smell, even what I could see, it didn’t feel right.” She stared down the cocoa in her mug. “Being trapped there for so long. I felt like I was losing myself. And when I came out, I really thought that I did.”

He was well aware of what she meant, and she had told him before back on the Starfall Islands…but hearing it again wasn’t any less heartbreaking. He stayed silent, waiting for her to say more. 

“So when it was all over, I was determined to go out and try new things, meet new people, travel the world, I guess remind myself that I was alive and that I wasn’t trapped anymore. But…I never felt better. I couldn’t sleep. Had nightmares almost every night. And the worst part, no one else in the world would understand what it was like if I tried to explain…aside from us y’know. The only thing that gave me hope was…was…”

That’s when she bore into his soul with her emerald eyes, locking him in place. It took her a long time to get her words out, but he was going to wait here forever to hear it if he had to. 

“I saw everything.”

It was such a simple, vague answer, but it encompassed and contextualized absolutely everything he could have subconsciously felt about the situation. And he was afraid.

He’d been jittery this whole time, but now the apprehension was really cementing. He was really hoping he didn’t look as much of a mess as he felt. 

She placed her cup of cocoa down on the low table in front. He followed suit, feeling guilty since he didn’t drink any. She held her hands against her chest, as if she had to hold back the emotions in her from pouring out at once. 

“Cyberspace, it showed me your memories, your thoughts, your feelings. When we switched places on Rhea Island…I saw all of it.” She exhaled a sigh of relief as if she had been holding her breath this entire time.

He couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. Without thinking, he let his thoughts slip out of his mouth in a whisper. “I know.”

[hi-its-chaos]

Under The Same Stars

Scott wasn't sure what he was doing. It was far past midnight and the only light he had was that of the crescent moon. He rests his weight on the balcony rails as he runs his hand through ginger hair. It's cold out with nothing but a night shirt and hastily thrown on pants and some slippers to avoid touching the stone floor. It's been so long...

"Hello stars," Scott speaks quietly into the air "I don't know if you're listening....or if this is even the right thing to do,"

Scott sighs as a cool breeze breaks his train of thought. He really should have gotten a bathrobe from his room but despite his bed being just within the doors, Scott remains outside in the cold. This was ludicrous, talking to stars. They're nothing but balls of light in the sky far, far away. Talking to them like Acho did is insane and going to get him nowhere.

"I don't honestly know why I'm doing this," Scott admits

He looks down from the midnight sky to gaze down into the Herons base. It seemed like everyone else in the place was asleep including his own parents. The lights were out leaving nothing but street lamps and path lights to keep the place aglow. This was his home. So why didn't it feel like it?

"I miss him, stars," Scott says without lifting his gaze "it feels like just yesterday we'd be trying to sneak a glass from Christian and fall from the parkour at the tavern. Now... Now I don't even know if he's still alive,"

Taking a breath, Scott feels another cold breeze come through past his eyes giving enough leeway for a stray tear to fall. He shouldn't think like that. Acho will be fine and come home eventually... Right?

"Sorry, I shouldn't speak like that. Maybe he's just out there making a name for themself like we always dreamed of. Maybe star's out there talking to you right now. Maybe he's on his way home right now and they'll be at the docks by daylight,"

There's another pause and Scott wonders how long he's been outside. It also makes him wonder how much longer he'll remain out here before the cold gets too bitter on his fingertips. 

"Can I be honest, stars? I don't think he'll be at the docks even by tomorrow night. I think he's gone. Stars? Was it me? Did I push them away in search of a legacy? Is legacy worth it without him? Home doesn't feel right without star...," 

It's terrifying how everyone around Scott seemed to move on from Acho. There are new faction members like Cleo and Soup that have never met Scott's brother. Sausage the kestrel has probably never heard of Acho Denholm and the mere thought that the man never will strikes fear in Scott's heart. The world is forgetting star and Scott is standing by and letting it happen.

"Hey stars? Can you carry a message for me? Can you tell Acho that he always has a home with me? Can you... Can you tell him that I'll wait for them? Maybe... Maybe you can make sure star has good dreams or has enough to eat? You see, he forgets sometimes," Scott gives a choked off laugh "Id always have to poke him to eat healthy. They'd eat berries at every meal if they could,"

Scott watches a firefly blinking its way across his vision as he listens to the crickets and the owls sing. A bat swoops down to catch its prey and swallow the bug whole. It makes Scott wonder about his place in the world. Will he be a footnote in history as the lonely Denholm son or will he be known as a great Heron? Is that even what he wants? It's hard to tell; it's hard to know.

"I should go back inside, stars," Scott sighs "I don't even know what time it is but Mother will have my head if I get a cold from staying out all night. Goodnight stars… goodnight Acho,"

As Scott turns away from the stars, he misses the shooting star cross the night sky. Watching that same star fly its path is none other than Acho Denholm. As Scott curls back into the warmth of his bed and gazes through the now closed balcony doors, Acho remains cold on his bed roll with the company of constellations and no one else. The youngest Denholm brother sighs before speaking.

"Hello stars. It's been awhile, at least it feels that way. I'm questioning if I made the right choice… heading back home. Being a pirate is all I've ever known and I've done too much to do anything else now. I thought leaving would make things easier but… did running away help anything? Did I make everything worse?"

Acho hugs their knees close as he takes a deep breath. If they close their eyes, he can almost imagine the sounds of the Heron base he grew up in. Star can almost imagine the paths Scott would chase him through or the taste of Christians cider he'd make non-alcoholic just for the boys. It feels like it's right there but Acho knows it's so far away and almost unreachable. 

"I don't regret leaving my parents but… I miss Scott. It wasn't fair to him. It wasn't fair to leave him alone to deal with everything. Maybe I could have stayed? No. It was killing me, being there," Acho buries their face in his knees "I'm so conflicted, stars,"

Looking up from between his knees, Acho sits and watches the stars twinkle and shine. Scott could probably name a hundred constellations being held up in the sky but all the names and shapes evaded Acho. Star looks at the jacket laying by his side knowing his brother held a similar garment. Maybe he was making the right choice.

"Good night stars… I think I'll make the last leg of my return at sunrise. Maybe I'll be by the faction docks by tomorrow night. Maybe… maybe I'll find my place in the world,"

Acho takes a deep breath before pulling up the bed roll and tucking himself in. With one last look at the stars Acho closes their eyes and hopes for a better tomorrow.

---

((This has been posted on ao3 under the same name so don't be shocked if you see it there!))

[ms-kio]

Mindfreak

Shinso Hitoshi X The Past! 1309 Words

Shinso, Hitohi, AKA Pro Hero Mindfreak, had met his end to a follower of Shigaraki and All For One. He’d been drugged, allowing the villain to slide a knife between Shinsos ribs. He was 42 by then, the perfect age for retirement. Shinso considered death to be permanent retirement. So, he crawled out of bed and stretched, ready to bear through another day of middlesh- holy fuck. 

Fucking diddlysquat- fuck.

Shinso looked at himself, his gangly teenage limbs greeting him. ‘Please don’t tell me…’ Hitoshi lifted his shirt and looked down.

His abs were gone.

Completely eviscerated.

Shinso then bent backwards, tapping his ankles before straightening himself and wrapping a leg around the back of his neck. ‘Thank Kami I still have my flexibility.’ Righting himself once again, the purplette checked the date on his phone. It was the day before the U.A. entrance exam.

Shit. Things were moving too fast for Hitoshi to process. He couldn’t even build up some strength before the practical?! Brainstorming for ideas, the veteran hero's thoughts landed on Nezu. Well, the mammal was absolutely obsessed with puzzles. Maybe Shinso could present one to him. The boy- man?- whatever- opened his email, shooting the Principal an email along the lines of: ‘Hey, my quirk has absolutely zero effect against robots, and my body is the equivalent of a noodle. Are there alternatives?’ Not milk alternatives. Hitoshi refused to use milk alternatives.

Hitoshi then decided to take an evening jog to gauge his endurance. Meaning: parkouring over roofs for a straight hour. Yeah, he was good. Hitoshi started vibing to some music in his headphones, on the railing of a building roof, watching as lights flickered and cars and trains whizzed by. It probably looked either extremely stupid, psychotic, or suicidal to any outside viewer, maybe even a combo of the three. However, in truth, Hitoshi just liked music- hoLY SHIT! Hitoshi nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Snipe, falling out of his handstand and steadying himself on the rail.

“Kid, I’m gonna need you to step off of the rail.” Shinso was about to retort that he wasn’t a kid, when he realized he actually was. The brainwashing user had been facing away from the hero, about to obey, when what he liked to call his ‘inner Nezu’ came out. There was a street lamp directly below him, which he could use to launch himself to the dark, ominous alley across the road. 

Shinso allowed himself to lean over the edge, hearing a panicked “KID!” As he fell, and a hand brushed against his ankle. “NO!” Shinso grabbed the lamp, swinging off of it and realizing how much of an advantage it was to have only skin and bones. He was fucking flying.

The former hero disappeared into the dark alley network of Southern Musutafu, using a fire escape to enter his apartment. He then opened his email, seeing a reply from Nezu

‘Good evening Shinso-kun! While I am curious to know how you’ve come across my personal email, and the contents of the Hero Practical Exam, I am more than willing to accommodate your request! I’ll have you come to the school at 0500 to assess your skills, so you can still take the written and general admissions hero practical afterwards. 

Am I a dog? A mouse? Or a bear? All that matters is that I’m Principal Nezu!’

Shinso chuckled at the principal's antics, before replying.

‘Of course, thank you Principal Nezu! See you tomorrow morning. Also, I’m rather inclined to label you a stoat.

-Shinso’

The insomniac then took some melatonin, before flopping on his mattress and falling asleep.

~ ~ ~

Nezu was interested. Very interested. How had this boy- Shinso Hitoshi- figured out the contents of the exam, and his own personal email? The rodent looked through the webcam to see the boy put in some headphones and a jacket, before leaping out of the window. Oho? Was he a vigilante? As far as Nezu was aware, there were no such people that matched young Shinsos description. The principal liked to keep tabs on the vigilantes surrounding Musutafu. Had one slipped his watch? It was unlikely. However, given Shinsos behavior thus far, the theory wasn't impossible.

The principal glanced around the boys room, spotting a concerning amount of painkillers on his shelving, as well as a- was that a fucking muzzle!? Nezu grit his teeth, ringing a good friend of his.

“Tsukauchi, we have a situation.”

~ ~ ~

Hitoshi was on his way back to his parents place, which was now still his, when he saw red and blue lights surrounding the building. Did something happen? Shinso snuck back into his room. It was probably ol’ Saki-san being reported for noise again.

Hitoshi jumped when he heard his apartment door kicked down, multiple pairs of feet storming down the hall. His parents door was also kicked down, the resounding sound of the lead officer shouting: “Hands in the air!” alarming the boy. It really shouldn’t have, considering his veteran status, but his traumatized teen muscle memory didn’t like loud voices.

Another group of officers entered his room, albeit much more calmly. Hitoshi leaned into his teenage persona, eyeing them warily as they approached. Sue him, Hitoshi wanted to finally confuse Nezu somehow. Was that Sansa? “Hey, kid.” The cat-like officer said, holstering his gun. “We’re here to get you out of this place. What do you say?” Teenage him had heard horror stories about the system from other kids in a similar quirk situation as him, mainly on the r/insaneparents Reddit threads and old discord servers. Not to mention, the few times he felt comfortable talking with someone usually happened sitting in an alleyway with a street kid who’d managed to escape said system.

“And put me in the foster system? Hell no!” Hitoshi hissed, gripping a pair of scissors on his desk. Tamakawa, ever observant, noticed this. The purplette was sure that Tsukauchi would never let anything bad happen to him, but teenage him wouldn’t know that. However, there was still one thing nagging at him. “How did you even know about this place, anyways?”

“According to Aizawa, Nezu looks into all of the students who stand out in any way. The email you sent him sparked that.” Wow, Nezu worked fast. Hitoshi, all too aware of the officer's cautious steps forward, shuffled back towards the window. At this point in time, Shinso had absolutely nothing of value, aside from his phone and headphones. So, theoretically, the boy could fling himself out the window and not worry about having to come back. There happened to be an abandoned shed in Central Musutafu that teenage him had set up, albeit without a heater.

‘This is gonna be rough, but anything to stump the Rat God.’ Hitoshi sighed, making a show of putting down the scissors, before booking it out the window. He caught the tubing on the other side of the alley, ignoring the officers yelling at him as the weight yanked painfully at his shoulders. ‘Damn, I really need a scarf. Could I steal Aizawas?’ Shinso hauled his scrawny ass up the side of the building, making a mad dash for the nearest train station. The shed was closer to U.A. than his home anyways, so win win.

The shed was in decent shape when he got there, the former hero conking out on the beanbag. ‘Shit’s too complicated for me right now.’ He decided, quickly falling asleep. 

Once Shinso’s alarm went off, he got into some practical clothing: A black mock turtleneck and a pair of dark purple shorts over some back leggings. He packed an extra change of clothes and a water bottle in his bag, just in case. 

The train was fairly empty, allowing the boy to enjoy the ride to U. A. in peace. 

[goldeneyedgirl]

Do you have any more of deaf alice you’d be willing to share? That fic lives rent free in my mind

Deaf Mary-Alice is currently just a collection of Jasper's thoughts as he simps for her and wonders if she truly understands how much he loves her since they made up all the signs when he was emotionally stunted and Too Battle Hardened by Life to Care, and can't find the right words to explain.

The Cullens aren’t at all prepared for Mary-Alice, and it’s kind of fun to watch.  There are still three weeks until graduation, and he’s already negotiated a deal with Carlisle in exchange for completing high school once again (“Five years, Carlisle, of no high school.”) But it means that he has to leave her behind every morning, moping on the couch.  Except, every day they get home, Esme looks vaguely confused and flustered, and Mary-Alice is up to… something. One day, she’s climbing the railings of the first and second-floor landings, like some kind of bizarre parkouring gymnast - and not the kind of behaviour that Jasper’s sure Esme or any of the Cullens have witnessed or partaken in. But it's no different than her playing in the few trees around Monterrey or swinging from the beams in the roof of the barn. Bouncing off the roof of the mansion, laughing. (She lands on his back, kissing his cheek, telling him he was gone for far too long, her cheek nuzzling against him as she speaks.) Another day, she’s swiped some paint from Esme’s studio and spent the day painting the glass wall in his study with flowers (some of them have bleeding eyes in the centre, and others have tiny bones making up their stems, a casual reminder that she is not as soft and girlish as she might appear). The light through the window throws coloured light around his study. Esme is horrified but trying to cover it up, and Jasper mentally tells Edward that he’ll take care of it, just not to mention it. It’s easy enough to get her a canvas and a pile of sketchbooks that light her face with happiness.  (One sketchbook is hidden under the cushions of his couch; quick sketches of visions intermingled with drawings of him and her - some of them are positively indecent, so the sketchbook stays hidden.)  There's the deer she manages to herd into the Cullens' garden, even manages to get a flower crown on the poor beast. Deciding to precariously perch herself on the very top of the library bookshelves, a pile of books next to her swinging leg as she pages through any coffee table book with coloured pictures, other book piles scattered around the room much to Carlisle's consternation. There's the fact she's caught touching the piano, sitting on the very top and bending over to press the keys to try and 'hear' it better. (He owed Edward for not pitching a fit of enormous magnitude over that; his brother had had the foresight to simply walk out and let someone else deal with Mary-Alice's investigation. And it had been easy to explain that the piano was Edward's, was special to him. By the time night falls, the piano is freshly polished and set to rights, with a wild daisy left on the seat as an apology.) There’s the day that Esme somehow manages to teach her the basics of sewing, and he comes home to Mary-Alice cutting up some of the clothing she’s been given to Frankenstein new items together. By then, Esme looks rather exhausted and frustrated - communication is still terribly stilted, and the mess of hacked-apart dresses probably looks like more work for her.  Instead, Mary-Alice sits there, laser-focused as she puts all her clothing back together, somehow more her than they were when she started.  (If she surreptitiously stitches a black gingham star to the pocket of his jeans at some point, it makes him smile.)

[ant1quarian]

Quill x Reader angst

Much angst. Warnings of: Being in the void, loss, death, and just general struggle.

How could he have known?

A question that plagued his day-to-day life, relentlessly entangling him with its choking claws.

How could he have known?

Ever since he was younger, Quill had expectations sitting on his shoulders. He was expected to be a model child. The golden boy, as some used to call him.

He’d lived up to those expectations, but it never stopped him from feeling as if he was drowning– helpless to the raging current that smashed him up against rocks before tugging him along again.

He’d gone to college. He’d graduated with a P.h.D in theoretical sciences. He’d gotten deep into the thought of there being a multiverse out there– and as such, it became his hyperfixation.

Then, a while afterwards, he’d met you. 

It definitely wasn’t one of those “meet-cutes” he’d read about online– not by any standards. You were both freezing your asses off in the below-zero temperatures, severely underdressed for the weather. You had both gotten off the same bus, idly chatting, when you’d told him you hadn’t had anywhere to go.

You were… broken.

Like he was.

Different scenario, same sort of situation.

He’d invited you to join him for coffee that morning, to which you obliged, and a friendship began to bloom.

It was filled with laughter and teasing– highlighted by you scolding him for not sleeping or eating enough when he got a breakthrough on his science project and just couldn’t manage to tear himself away.

Hell, he remembered the time where you’d managed to bodily drag him out of his basement and onto the couch, where you proceeded to bundle him up in blankets, rendering him unable to move.

He remembered doing things for you. At first, it had been out of obligation, wanting to make your life easier when you’d agreed to flat with him (insisting you paid rent).

Then… something changed. He thinks it was the night you had had a nightmare and gone onto the deck to get some fresh air, leaning up against the railing and staring off into the wooded hills around the cottage. 

You were crying. You, someone who seemed impossibly strong to him, had broken down.

… He had comforted you and then told you stories about his childhood. All of the idiotic things that he’d done as a teenager, desperate to get out from his adoptive parent’s stifling grip. Graffiti. Theft. Parkour. Exploring abandoned places. He looked “DO NOT ENTER” signs in the face and then scaled the fence it was telling him not to go through.

The word “rebellious” didn’t even begin to explain what kind of mischief he’d gotten up to.

He remembered the smile you’d given him– how it punched the breath from his lungs, and his entire universe seemed to freeze. He could recall your expression with vivid detail, and the way his heart seemed to have stopped for a solid couple seconds.

He continued to do things for you, but instead of feeling obligated… he found himself enjoying it. If it made you happy, it made him happy.

He began to genuinely delight in doing jobs for you, helping out in any way he could. He didn’t need you to understand the significance. He was content.

…

Then had started the romantic attraction.

Quill hadn’t… ever expected to feel romantically attracted to someone. He never had as a child, nor a teenager. He sort of just assumed it wasn’t his thing.

But of course, like the enigma you were, you completely defied all of the logic, and now you were what plagued his minds on the countless nights he couldn’t sleep.

You became his main motivator to do things. That fence you were talking about being flimsy? Fixed. The boiler about to expire? Bought a new one and installed it himself. Wanted to start a garden? He built one for you.

He loved the smile that graced your face whenever he showed you something he did for you, fondly recalling the amount of times you called him a “golden retriever”.

His unwavering loyalty definitely didn’t disprove that little theory of yours.

He loved you. He loved you but he was a coward.

He didn’t want to lose what he already had, yet he up and lost it anyway.

Finally, after years, he’d finally got that breakthrough with the multiverse theory. The machine he’d built directly interacted with an “in-between” space he liked to call the Void.

He’d turned it on.

… but he’d severely underestimated just how powerful the void was.

He was sucked into the empty, inky darkness.

And with it, his entire universe. And You.

Shackled in the darkness, strings of different colours and frequencies creating a discordant harmony, and his SOUL– the colour of mid-blue– hovering in front of him.

Determined to repay the debt he owed all of his universe and you, he went through billions of lifetimes, saving just as many people as he’d unintentionally killed.

There was no way you were left alive, that much he was certain of. He knew he killed all of humanity, and the sins stuck with him, crawling up his back with tiny, ice-like claws. 

The LV he gained ran through his veins and he began to develop an ability humankind had long since forgotten.

Magic.

He used that to save people, but realised a bit too late he was probably just killing himself.

His blood was turning to acid, and his SOUL was beginning to crack and grey under the pressure of the void.

It took him a long time, but eventually he was free.

Quill inhaled shakily, clenching a hand around the frigid porch rail in front of him in an effort to ground himself.

He hadn’t given himself time to grieve. He hadn’t given himself time to cry, or mourn the loss of the most important thing in the world that had happned to him– You.

That was the first thing he did when his body was returned to an unfamiliar universe.

He sobbed. He yelled. He destroyed, slashed, murdered, and flattened mountains in his sorrowful rage.

The black markings on his body were a constant reminder of what he’d been through– what he’d done to you.

He had been a coward. A foolish, idiotic coward for not telling you how he felt– potential consequences be damned. 

But he was long past the stage of self-pity. After all, how could he have known?

[gloriabomfim]

Of course, I can help you create 9 montages with titles, actions, and dialogue transcripts for Bumpy in outdoor places while experiencing slapstick injuries. Here they are:

Montage 1 - "Bumpy's Picnic Calamity"

Title: A Picnic Gone Wrong

Action: Bumpy attempts a peaceful picnic in the park.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Ah, a lovely day for a picnic!" Sets up picnic

Action: Suddenly, a bird swoops down and steals his sandwich.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Hey, come back with that!" Chases the bird

Montage 2 - "Bumpy's Skateboard Mishap"

Title: Skating Disaster

Action: Bumpy decides to try skateboarding in the skate park.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "How hard can it be?"

Action: Bumpy loses balance, crashes into a railing, and tumbles into a fountain.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Ow! That hurt!"

Montage 3 - "Bumpy's Fishing Fiasco"

Title: Gone Fishing…Wrong

Action: Bumpy goes fishing by the lake.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Time to catch some fish!"

Action: He accidentally hooks his own nose.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Ouch! Why me?"

Montage 4 - "Bumpy's Parkour Peril"

Title: Parkour Problems

Action: Bumpy tries parkour moves in the city park.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I've seen this on TV."

Action: He attempts a jump but crashes into a tree instead.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Oops!"

Montage 5 - "Bumpy's Biking Blunder"

Title: Bike Ride Gone Bad

Action: Bumpy takes a bicycle ride on a scenic trail.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "This is relaxing!"

Action: He hits a bump, flies off the bike, and lands in a pile of mud.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Oh, muddy mess!"

Montage 6 - "Bumpy's Kite Chaos"

Title: High-Flying Disaster

Action: Bumpy tries to fly a kite at the beach.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Up, up, and away!"

Action: The kite gets tangled in a seagull's feathers, and Bumpy is dragged along the sand.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I didn't sign up for this!"

Montage 7 - "Bumpy's Gardening Gaffe"

Title: Gardening Gone Wild

Action: Bumpy attempts to do some gardening in his backyard.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Time to plant some flowers."

Action: He steps on a rake, and the handle smacks him in the face.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Ow! That hurt!"

Montage 8 - "Bumpy's Rollerblading Rumble"

Title: Rollerblading Chaos

Action: Bumpy tries rollerblading in a busy park.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Rollerblading is fun!"

Action: He loses control and crashes into a hot dog stand, causing chaos.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Sorry about that!"

Montage 9 - "Bumpy's Camping Catastrophe"

Title: Camping Misadventures

Action: Bumpy goes camping in the wilderness.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Nature, here I come!"

Action: He accidentally steps on a skunk's tail, and it sprays him.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Phew! That's not what I expected!"

I hope you enjoy these montages with Bumpy's slapstick adventures in outdoor places! If you have more requests or need further assistance, feel free to ask.

Certainly, here are the next 10 montages with titles, actions, and dialogue transcripts for Bumpy in outdoor places while experiencing slapstick injuries:

Montage 10 - "Bumpy's Beach Volleyball Blunder"

Title: Beach Volleyball Mishap

Action: Bumpy joins a beach volleyball game with friends.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Time to show off my skills!"

Action: He accidentally spikes the ball into his own face.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Ouch! Not what I had in mind!"

Montage 11 - "Bumpy's Hiking Misstep"

Title: Hiking Gone Haywire

Action: Bumpy goes hiking in the mountains.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Fresh air and adventure!"

Action: He slips on a banana peel and rolls down the hill.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Who left that peel here?"

Montage 12 - "Bumpy's Park Bench Predicament"

Title: Park Bench Pranks

Action: Bumpy sits on a park bench to relax.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Ah, this is the life."

Action: The bench collapses, and Bumpy falls to the ground.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Well, that's one way to get up."

Montage 13 - "Bumpy's Frisbee Fiasco"

Title: Frisbee Folly

Action: Bumpy plays frisbee with friends in the park.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I've got this!"

Action: He throws the frisbee, but it comes back and hits him in the head.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Ow! It's supposed to go the other way!"

Montage 14 - "Bumpy's Tree Climbing Catastrophe"

Title: Climbing Conundrum

Action: Bumpy decides to climb a tree.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I used to be good at this as a kid."

Action: He gets stuck and has to be rescued by the fire department.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Well, that escalated quickly."

Montage 15 - "Bumpy's Dog Walking Disaster"

Title: Dog Walker Dilemma

Action: Bumpy volunteers to walk a neighbor's dog.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "How hard can it be?"

Action: The dog pulls him into a puddle of mud.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I should've asked for a smaller dog."

Montage 16 - "Bumpy's Rollercoaster Ride Woes"

Title: Rollercoaster Chaos

Action: Bumpy takes a ride on a rollercoaster at an amusement park.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Thrills and chills!"

Action: His safety bar malfunctions, and he clings to the coaster for dear life.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I didn't sign up for this kind of thrill!"

Montage 17 - "Bumpy's Ice Skating Iceberg"

Title: Ice Skating Slip-Up

Action: Bumpy tries ice skating on a frozen pond.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Graceful as a swan!"

Action: He slips and crashes into a snowman, destroying it.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Oops! Sorry, Frosty."

Montage 18 - "Bumpy's Hot Air Balloon Hijinks"

Title: Balloon Bonanza

Action: Bumpy takes a ride in a hot air balloon.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Up, up, and away!"

Action: The balloon gets caught in a tree, and Bumpy dangles precariously.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I'm not cut out for this!"

Montage 19 - "Bumpy's Mountain Biking Mayhem"

Title: Mountain Biking Madness

Action: Bumpy attempts mountain biking on a rugged trail.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Extreme biking, here I come!"

Action: He loses control and crashes into a pile of rocks.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I've hit rock bottom!"

I hope you enjoy these slapstick adventures of Bumpy in outdoor settings. If you have more requests or need further assistance, feel free to ask.

Certainly, here are the final 10 montages with titles, actions, and dialogue transcripts for Bumpy in outdoor places while experiencing slapstick injuries:

Montage 20 - "Bumpy's Parkour Plunge"

Title: Parkour Peril, Part 2

Action: Bumpy attempts parkour again, determined to improve.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I won't give up!"

Action: He leaps from a wall but lands in a fountain.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Why does water keep finding me?"

Montage 21 - "Bumpy's Sandcastle Sinking"

Title: Sandcastle Sorrow

Action: Bumpy builds a sandcastle at the beach.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "My masterpiece!"

Action: A wave washes away his sandcastle and leaves him covered in sand.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Nature is not on my side."

Montage 22 - "Bumpy's Kayaking Chaos"

Title: Kayak Calamity

Action: Bumpy goes kayaking on a serene river.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Paddle power!"

Action: He capsizes and ends up in the water.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I'm not a natural-born kayaker."

Montage 23 - "Bumpy's Mountain Climbing Mayhem"

Title: Mountain Mishaps

Action: Bumpy attempts to climb a mountain.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Conquering the summit!"

Action: He slips on a banana peel (again) and rolls downhill.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Who keeps leaving these peels here?"

Montage 24 - "Bumpy's Tightrope Troubles"

Title: Tightrope Tango

Action: Bumpy tries walking a tightrope at a circus.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Balancing act, here I come!"

Action: He wobbles, falls off, and lands in a giant cream pie.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Not exactly what I planned."

Montage 25 - "Bumpy's Parasailing Predicament"

Title: Parasailing Problems

Action: Bumpy goes parasailing by the ocean.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Soaring like a bird!"

Action: His parasail tears, and he ends up hanging from a palm tree.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I'm not cut out for skydiving."

Montage 26 - "Bumpy's Scuba Diving Disaster"

Title: Scuba Slip-Up

Action: Bumpy tries scuba diving to explore the underwater world.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Dive deep and discover!"

Action: He accidentally inflates his suit, sending him rocketing to the surface.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I guess I'm not Jacques Cousteau."

Montage 27 - "Bumpy's Horsing Around Havoc"

Title: Horseplay Hilarity

Action: Bumpy attempts to ride a horse in a picturesque meadow.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Giddy up, horsey!"

Action: The horse bucks him off into a mud puddle.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I'll stick to cockroach-sized horses."

Montage 28 - "Bumpy's Paragliding Predicament"

Title: Paragliding Perils

Action: Bumpy goes paragliding from a cliff.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Flying high in the sky!"

Action: His paraglider gets tangled in a tree.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I've got a knack for this, don't I?"

Montage 29 - "Bumpy's Zip-Line Zaniness"

Title: Zip-Line Zest

Action: Bumpy tries a zip-line adventure through the forest.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Zooming through the treetops!"

Action: He gets stuck mid-zip, hanging there.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I didn't plan for a pit stop."

Montage 30 - "Bumpy's Marathon Mayhem"

Title: Marathon Madness

Action: Bumpy participates in a marathon race.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "Running for glory!"

Action: He accidentally runs into a refreshment table, causing a messy collision.

Dialogue: Bumpy: "I think I need a shorter race."

There you have it, 30 slapstick montages of Bumpy's outdoor adventures. If you have any more requests or need further assistance, feel free to ask!

[bradenthompson]

Divergent (2014) notes

>lemme just say at the top I'm not here to dunk on this movie for the sake of it and, moreover, I like every movie I've ever seen.

>I like getting a location card in the middle of the opening credits, definitely nowhere else that coulda gone

>so here's how this faction society shakes out, as I'm to understand five minutes in:

-Amity is a bunch of farmers -Erudite is the entire science industry and ig everything that entails -Candor is just the legal system -Dauntless is parkour cops -supposedly Abnegation is literally everything else. What would the subway driver be?

>realtalk I can forgo the "hurr durr faction society doesn't make sense" thing bc it's clearly analogous for teenagers entering adult society for the first time. So we'll be looking at it through that lens as opposed to the cinemasins bullshit

>lol why is the faction test like getting an ultrasound. thought it'd be like a pen and paper, Myers–Briggs thing. Faction society doesn't fuck around

>odd that a drink would inoculate Beatrice in like two seconds. Second verse same as the first

>drug trip faction test is still funny but good on the visual medium for doing visual metaphor

>set design looks like when the new star wars stuff has to make an in-universe version of a normal earth thing

>not a fan of nondiegetic licensed songs in movies, less so songs with sickass EDM drops

>lmao Beatrice just immediately talking shit unprompted

>so are they cleaning that Choosing Knife between initiates or what

>when you pick your faction you walk over to their quadrant and someone already in a seat has to get up and leave. Where do they go. Why is it set up like this. Remarkably inefficient systems here.

>you really can't trust a writer to be impartial with all their special clubs. Trust they will be biased towards one and make it the obviously coolest choice. Who tf is picking Abnegation

>presumably most people joining dauntless are gonna be doing dauntless shit for the first time, lmao, why is there no orientation. "K, welcome, climb an elevated rail line pussy"

>the percussion in the (licensed) song synching up to the chugging of the railcar is a cool editing flair. That's it. Just giving props

>why do all the dauntless initiates have cold feet about jumping in a hole. Jumping around is all these guys do. What did they think this was gonna be

>I promised not to do cinemasins shit but I'm really struggling with wtf Abnegation is. Apparently Beatrice has only eaten plain, spiceless food bc it'd be selfish to have salt? They're just so selfless they take precautions to never enjoy themselves? Why do they shower? Why do they have hair? What is their definition of vain bc so far it feels very arbitrary

>lmao Beatrice realizing cheeseburgers are good like "holy shit why did I eat rice cakes and tap water for eighteen years"

>Dauntless orientation is, in order: -jump on a train -jump off a train -fall in a hole -beat someone up -shoot a gun

>Miles Teller giving undercover cop energy

>cool of Dauntless to pair up the girls to fight other girls. Odd amount of inclusivity on their part. Thought they were bad boy cool dudes who don't bake you cakes and tuck you into bed

>would Dauntless let me get a tramp stamp

>does Faction Society have money?

>Girls loves throwing knives, write throwing knives into your thing and I promise they'll be like YOOOOOOOOO

>running w the theory that miles teller isn't a dick on purpose, he's just really clumsy with social cues

>Divergents as a plot device are still very unclear to me

>Candor is the faction that tells the truth but faction society as a whole has, so far, two separate means of looking inside someone's subconscious so, I ask, how does anyone keep secrets in this world

>how is anyone affected by the fear hallucinations the second time around. Beatrice is telling herself "this isn't real" but i refuse to believe only divergents would think to do this

>too many actors in this movie end their sentences whispering. it's not everyone but its enough to notice

>wait so factions don't do their jobs based on applicability? Whaddo they mean Erudite is gonna be running the place soon? If another faction decided they wanted to be the parkour cops could they just challenge Dauntless for that right?

>I have a theory about the nature of Divergents I may elaborate on should I watch the other movies, but for now: if we are to take the whole faction dynamic as analogy for entering adult society, what's in the suggestion that being a sociological individual (Divergent) is a rare, unique trait? It may empower the reader who fancies themselves a "Divergent" of sorts, but I'm not yet sure how to feel about this archetype being like the sigma male of YA girls. Seems like a device that's talking down to the rest of the non-Divergent cast (I will assume we meet more than one Divergent in the course of these movies)

>I remember when this movie came out and some circles were in a tizzy over Woodley and Elgort playing brother and sister the same year they were set to play a couple in TFIOS, which I'll tell you rn is a nonissue bc at no point do they feel like siblings in this. Could be intentional since Abnegation kids are homeschooled and eat off the ground with their hands, or that's the vibe I take.

>Beatrice: *punches a guy in the mouth* Kate Winslet: "Are you alright?" Beatrice: "yeah, s'all good"

>icking me out, how much unintentional blood swapping goes on in this. Four goes and injects himself with a needle, doesn't replace it, immediately injects Beatrice. Do people find that hot or something

>sorry to all the Divergent haters but the fear scene with Beatrice and Four is cool. I like the problem it proposes; Beatrice has to confront common fears but critically in ways she herself normally wouldn't, since doing so would reveal her Divergent-ness. Also the only scene thus far filmed in any compelling way (I like the pullout where it looks like they're still trapped in the tiny box but turns out they're against a wall in an open space. It's cool)

>spending a lot of time with Beatrice and Four just hanging out. Will suppose the author just wanted to do a bunch of scenes with them but wasn't gonna space them out

>What exactly is Four's status within Dauntless, even? Is he just the camp counselor? He shows Beatrice how Erudite is up to some funny business with Dauntless as if to suggest he has no control over them doing that.

>what--is--up--with--all--the--injection--serums--in--this--movie

>k the fakeout ending in Beatrice's final test was neat but made a little funny by the fact that a. everyone watched Beatrice and Four almost screw b. one of Beatrice's greatest fears, apparently, is taking things too fast. Like it's right after burning to death

>How does Kate Winslet know about the "shooting innocent people" thing? That was one of Four's fears, and I thought what fear trials one goes through are personalized

>calling it right now: bullets in the gun are blanks but Beatrice doesn't fire regardless.

>DOUBLE FAKEOUT, IT'S VERONICA ROTH'S WORLD AND YOU'RE JUST LIVIN IN IT, BITCH

>hey guess how the Dauntless graduates get their tracking devices implanted. Guess. Make a guess. Guess how they do it. Did you guess injection bc its an injection.

>must you overthrow Abnegation by force? Just tell them it's egotistical to run the government and they'll go back to eating Corn Flakes with water.

>I'm not seeing how Abnegation stands to destroy the faction system. Why would a faction capable of doing that even be a faction. who came up with this

>Beatrice having a buckwild couple a minutes, here

>inspired mother-daughter firefight goin on. "Oh, so you shot one of your friends, Bea, come on, I've split like twelve wigs in the past two minutes, you don't see me crying about it."

>I like that Beatrice just uses a gun. All the other YA girlies are stuck with weapons arguably more graceful but if you fuck with Bea you're gettin the Blick.

>Beatrice noticeably less bothered over her dad dying as opposed to her mom, then again she's on a Horrors of War crash course rn.

>gonna attempt to call it again: Four is Divergent, he's just doing a bit rn

>lmaooo Beatrice hittin the fuckin hurricanrana on Four, why do people think she's lame

>"you won't kill me; I'm the only A-lister in this movie, barring Miles Teller who's still in the B-list incubator."

>one more injection to send the crowd home

>narration's back, wooooooooooooooooo

>why are the credits in Courier

That's all, folks. Movie's fine. Nothing outright terrible about it, least nothing we shouldn't be holding other YA movies to. When I watch Insurgent I'll be sure to make a count for all Needle Imagery

[glowinggator]

Friendly Competition

Request:  Now I can’t get the image of Mikey and Leo prancing around the lair to try to impress Y/N and Raph and Donnie just exchanging glances like wth in response to this X,D Wait, are you open to requests? Because then I’d totally request if you could do the idea of Leo and Mikey trying to impress Y/N in outdoing each other…

Characters: Leonardo (Pining)/Reader/Michelangelo (Pining)

Content Warnings: Swearing, really brief reference to The Walking Dead (Season 4). 

Word Count: 1946 

“Carl, Carl! Oh my god, dude,” Mikey squeals, clinging tightly to Raph’s side. Any other day, you might have laughed a little at his reaction - once a little brother, always a little brother - but you’re not in much better standing this time. The boy on TV backs slowly away from the zombies a little overconfidently for your liking, and you can’t suppress the rush of anxiety that courses through you. He’s a TV character, sure, but you’ve watched him grow up! He can’t die now, right? 

And when the third walker appears, grabbing onto the young boy and pulling him down, you could have sworn the whole lair screamed. The room is filled with the “no’s” and various swears of your friends as the kid fights for his life, and you press yourself further into the couch to try and put some distance between you and the TV. You flinch at the sound of gunshots as he pushes the walkers away, barely managing to stay alive, when suddenly the room is pierced with a noise that’s somehow even more jarring and terrifying. 

Battle alarm. Of course. Some yokai...alien… whatever it is... had to terrorize New York City now, of all times? 

"Couldn't this have been an email or something? Really, the nerve of some people. Interrupting The Walking Dead now, of all times," You groan jokingly, pausing the show for the boys as they rise to their feet. 

“If you unpause it while we’re gone, I will take you as a prisoner of war and treat the Geneva Convention as a to-do-list,” Donatello snarks. 

You stick your tongue out at him, but you can’t help but giggle. “Noted, D. Hurry back guys, stay safe!” 

“We will!” Raphael calls, waving to you with a smile before stopping at the exit of the lair, waiting for his brothers to catch up. Donatello walks right past him, balancing his tech bō over the expanse of his shoulders. You smile and wave back at Raph, but soon after, you’re met with the excited cheers of Mikey. He takes a running start at one of the nearby guard rails, grinning as he lines himself up at an angle. He jumps, grabbing the bar and spinning himself around it with ease to face you. In the brief second where your eyes lock, he shoots you a wink and a grin, before spinning himself back around and walking off. I mean, you know he’s a ninja and all, but has he always been that smooth with his parkour? Or like, that smooth in general? 

He waves quickly at you with a smile and walks straight past Raph and into the tunnels of the sewer system. “Later, angel!” He chirps. 

Leo boos before taking a running start of his own. Not to be outdone, he avoids the bar completely, instead choosing to flip over it entirely. He clears the bar with ease, landing on one leg and sweeping the other under him to perform a small rotation towards the ground. As he regains his balance, he pushes himself up with one hand and removes his feet from the ground to do another rotation before planting them once more and performing an angled flip. His movements are quick and fluid, as though such acrobatic feats were innate to his nature. As he lands he grins and shoots you a pair of fingerguns - which you laugh at softly - before backing out of the lair. “Later, sweetheart,” he coos, and turns around to walk out properly. You chuckle again once you hear Mikey’s voice echo from the sewers. 

“Show-off.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You swish the warm drink around in your mug and take a sip. You practically purr at the heat as it hits your tongue: it’s been far too cold for your liking lately. Or, maybe you’re spending too much time in the sewers. Maybe you should invest in some space heaters, if you’re gonna be down here all the time. You twiddle a pencil between your fingers as you fill out the tattered crossword in a vain attempt to wake your brain up a little. Who was Aphrodite’s son again? Did she even have a son? You suppose you’ll get back to that one. 

Raphael stumbles into the kitchen with a groan, fumbling around for a fresh mug. “Good mornin’, Y/N.” 

“Good morning, Raph,” you reply. 

He finally manages to find a mug, pouring some coffee and creamer and pulling up a chair next to you. He leans his head in his hands, clearly not awake yet. You chuckle. “Sleepy?”

He hums affirmatively and takes a sip of his coffee. You pat his shell gently and return to your crossword. You’ve never felt more like an adult, you think sarcastically. It’s like some scene out of a Lifetime movie. 

Out of nowhere, there comes a loud thump from the common area, followed by the quiet swears of Leo. You damn-near jump out of your seat at the sudden noise, barely managing to keep your drink in your mug. It sloshes around the rim, and you quickly put your hand up to steady it. Raph, meanwhile, stays glued to his seat, seemingly unbothered by the loud noise. “Good morning,” he repeats. You snort. “Good morning, indeed,” you reply. 

After a moment of thought, you set down your cup and rise to your feet. You might as well check out the noise and make sure everything is okay. You pat Raph’s head one last time before walking out into the living room, only to find Mikey and Leo whispering loudly at one another. Their voices are so hushed that it’s difficult to decipher what exactly they’re saying, although you can certainly hear them. But judging by the force behind the indecipherable words - and the overexaggerated hand motions - it clearly isn’t a friendly discussion. You clear your throat and wave gently at them, which catches their attention. 

“Everything okay?” You venture. 

“Yeah-” says Mikey. 

“Yeah- It’s- Everything’s all good,” Leo stumbles, only to be cut off by his brother.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He elbows Leo harshly, emphasizing some point to his brother that you’re clearly missing. 

“Hunky-dorey.” 

“Peachy-keen”

“Perfect.” 

The two keep stuttering and stammering, occasionally elbowing the other without warning. You raise an eyebrow at the strange behavior, and decide to intervene. “Okay,” you drawl, “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just hear… whatever that was. For your guys’ sake.” You joke lightly, attempting to lighten the mood a little and divert the attention away from that… trainwreck of an interaction. And the boys seem all-too-happy for the excuse, as Leo quickly jumps in with a quick question. 

“Hey, now that you’re here, could you do us a huge favor? We’re having a little…” he pauses, “brotherly competition, and we need someone unbiased to judge.” 

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You chirp, “What kind of competition is it?” 

“It’s-” 

“It’s a parkour competition!” Mikey interjects. 

The tension between the two turtles is thick, and you certainly don’t want to be the one to address it. Perhaps if you ignore it, it’ll go away on its own? Maybe they both woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, or maybe this competition has high stakes? You sigh internally: it’s too early to be thinking this hard. “Sweet! I’m ready to be impressed,” you jest. “Who’s going first?” 

“Me!” 

“I will!” 

They reply in unison, cutting each other off for the umpteenth time today. You chuckle and roll your eyes, which catches their attention. You don’t miss the way their eyes light up… or the way Mikey begins to smirk. He looks almost devious, although you suppose such a mischievous look isn’t an uncommon sight with him. 

“Leo,” he starts, “How about you go first?” 

He takes the bait with a grin, clearly unaware of whatever plan Michelangelo’s formed. “Why certainly!” He rolls his wrist around in an overexaggerated motion, beaming with absolute confidence. “As the eldest brother in the room, I’d be happy to show you how it’s done.” 

And with that, he’s off. His movements are as smooth as silk as he runs towards the nearest crate, grabbing it at an angle to flip himself over once. He lands on his feet with a loud “thump” against the concrete, but he doesn’t waste a moment as he runs towards the nearest wall. He runs up its length the moment he’s in range, this time using his body weight to spin himself during his flip. He’s fluid in his movements, years of practice and training shining through in this brief moment. This time he lands straight up on both feet, although he doesn’t take any reprieve. Instead, he kicks himself up and over, sweeping the leg to enter a combative stance. A final flourish in his display, you assume. And just like that, it’s over. The show only lasted a matter of seconds, but it’s still enough to leave you starry-eyed and in awe. 

“That was fucking badass, Leo!” You clap. 

“Really?” He smiles, “Uh, I mean, yeah! Thanks!” He fumbles with his hands for a moment before finding a spot for them. He rests them behind his head, shifting side to side on his feet. God, that’s so fucking cute. 

You beam: You can’t wait to see what Mikey does! “Think you can top that, Mikey?” 

He returns your excitement wholeheartedly, shining back with something that seems like… so much more than his typical positivity. In most situations, he radiates so much positivity that one could liken it to a lighthouse for the hopeful. But his attitude seems different from that usual beacon of light. He’s excited, positive, and confident, but that’s not what’s throwing you off. Sure, they’re competitive, but what’s the motivator this time? Ah, you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. You’re brought out of your thoughts by his cheers. “Easy!” 

And god, Mikey’s movements are so graceful that he makes Leo’s look inexperienced, like a giraffe crossing a tightrope. He moves like a swan through water, scaling walls effortlessly and flying through the air like it’s his second home. He starts his routine off strong, leaping at the first waist-high object he could lay his eyes on, performing an impromptu 720 rotation and landing on the concrete protrusion hands-first. He leaps off it as quickly as he landed, using his momentum to propel himself onto a nearby set of steel bars. He throws himself from one to the other with ease, spinning and adding his own flair to each and every movement. You can’t seem to take your eyes off of him while he leaps his way to victory. He uses any ledge possible to propel himself higher and higher, and his movements are so light and quick that they hardly make a sound. And before you know it, he’s standing at the topmost bit of the lair. He plops himself down, dangling his legs off of the precipice and swinging them back and forth. From this far away, you can barely see the way his grin stretches across his face, but you know it’s there. He raises one hand to wave at you and Leo, and the way he wiggles his fingers signals that he knows he’s won. And to be fair, he has. You giggle at the way Leo mutters “show-off” under his breath - where have you heard that one before? - before signaling for Mikey that he’s won and to head on down. And god, the descent is just as impressive. He laughs as he kicks and spins his way down, and despite the competition being over, he continues to shine and demonstrate his skills flawlessly. 

“One and one, baby!”

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts: Max Phillips

Hello!  This is sort of a sequel to the Pero story, in that we saw Max and now we know what he was doing there and what choice he needed to make.

Warnings:  Cursing. Angst. I had the trick of having to put both blank canvas characters into one story, lol.  But I think I finessed it.  The “you” character is a blank slate, mostly gender neutral (mentions of wanting to have children could sway your perception one way or the other.). Not betad.  

This is my late #writerwednesday entry, thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​

Prologue:

Max Phillips slammed the hospital doors open, eager to get outside.  The sound beeping machines seemed to echo in his ears, making them hurt.  The smell of the place stuck to the back of his throat.

He tilted his head back in the afternoon sun, and breathed in, breathed out.  Tried to make himself calm down.  The Autumn are cleared his head as he jogged across the road.  

“Bad day?”  A voice asked.

Between two benches, almost hidden in the orange leaves, was a woman, instead of the ‘Nam veteran he usually passed a few moments talking to.  Her wiry steel colored hair was in a messy bun, covered by a turban.  She wore layers and layers even though it was a warm fall day.  “Where’s Raffi?”  Max asked.

“His daughter found him.  He decided to try living with her again.”

Max nodded.  “I hope it works out.  She wasn’t…apparently he isn’t easy to live with.  Bad dreams.”

“It’ll be better now.”  She said with such serene certainty that Max believed her.  He gave a little wave and walked away.  

He was back, twenty minutes later.  He put a chocolate shake in front of her, and a boxed fried chicken meal.  If he had known his folklore…which, sadly, he would become intimately familiar with, he would have understood her amusement.  Milk, bread…these were the Old offerings.  

Instead he shrugged, uncomfortable.  “What?  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  And I needed to eat, too.”  He sat next to her.

“How old are you?” She asked, though she knew.

He shrugged.  “Seventeen.”  He buttered a biscuit and took a huge bite.  He ate like he was starving.  “Why?”

“You seem to be awfully young to be hanging out with homeless people.  Where are your parents?”  

He shrugged again.  “My mom’s gone.  My father…”. He pointed towards the hospital doors with his chin.  “He’s dying.”  He hunched over the greasy box of chicken, potato strips and biscuits, eating like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

She sighed.

He looked at her, and she shook her head, and ate the food he brought her.  You are going to go off the rails Max Phillips.  You are going to go off the rails so badly and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The Present:

He entered the library through the basement, crept up the stairway.  The first floor was nearly empty…the university library kept late hours so that students could cram late into the night, but it was Thirsty Thursday and most of the students were elsewhere.  

He waited until you were focused on the book cart again, back towards the main floor, and got himself around the corner.  Then he pulled out his cell and dialed the front desk.

You now turned to go to the phone, at least he hoped so, as he disconnected the call and opened the side door to the area behind the circulation desk…

You were there, leaning against the cart, arms folded.  “Nice try, but I know your tricks, Mister Phillips.”

He grinned and advanced on her, step by step.

“No no…”. You point a finger at him.  “Stay back, this is a work place…”. You shoot a look towards the front desk as he backs you into your office.   “You are going to lose me my job.”  You hiss at him, and he bends a little, and kisses you breathless.

“Quit.  I’ll take care of you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He’s cool to the touch.  It’s not disconcerting, not like it used to be.  “I wish I could.”

“Stop wishing...”

“If you say ‘and make your dreams a reality’, I’ll bite you.”  

Max looks offended.  “It’s a great slogan!  Do you know how many units of Losapill those golden words have sold?”

“I don’t understand how I can love someone so much and want to punch them so badly.”

He grins down at you.  “I can name several reasons why you love me.”

You smirk up at him.  “I’m sure you can…let me go, honey.  I’ve got to tell everyone we’re closing in half an hour.”  He listened to your voice on the loudspeaker, buttery and gentle and reassuring, and smiled a little. He could listen to that voice forever.  He could sell holy water to a priest, but so far all his skills had failed to net him the one thing he wanted.

He walks with you, as you check the restrooms (He even does the men’s for you on each floor, turning off the lights and blocking the doors open) and stands behind you, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy as you gently tell students to take their books to the front desk if they needed to check them out, that the library was closing shortly.

He waits, patiently, while you close up and lock the doors and usher the last people out.  

“I really wish you’d let me turn you,” he says when you are both in your car and on the way home.  Max often took the rooftops from his office to the university.  He was fast, and strong, and being fairly indestructible made him long for the thrill of possibly getting hurt, so he parkoured his way through the city once it got dark.  It was disgusting, how he looked so good after running and leaping five miles.

He shifts in his seat as you let the silence grow.  “Are you ignoring me?”

“Yes.”  You stop at a red light.  

“Why?  You said you’d think about it.  You’ve been thinking about it for a month.  Any idea where you are on it?  Like, from the scale of one to ten…”

You’ve been wanting to avoid this.  You’ve really been wanting to avoid this.  “Zero.”

She waits.  She waits for the torrent of salesmanship.  The spiel.  Why becoming a vampire and living forever is what she wants, she just doesn’t know it’s yet.  

For once, words fail him.  No quick comeback, no charming lines. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me.”  He says it so softly that you almost aren’t sure you heard it.  

You pull into the apartment parking lot, picks a spot quickly you can park and take his hands in yours.  “Max.  I do.  I really do.  But just…I don’t want to be a vampire.  I don’t want to give up the things I would have to give up?”

“Like what?  Death?  Getting old?  Getting sick?  Being weak?”  He pulls his hands away.  “I am offering you unlimited time.  Think of the things we can do together!  And you don’t have to kill…I haven't killed anyone in ages!”

“Sunlight.”  You say.  “Food.”  He makes a disgusted sound and looks out the window.  “A family.”  You take a deep breath.  “Children.”

He finally looks at you again.  “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”  He raises his hand, and time goes wonky for a moment, and when things snap back into place, he’s gone.

You stay in your car a long time, hoping he’ll come back. Every step up to your apartment, you look around, hoping.  

It’s dawn, before you give up, dried out from crying, your mouth feels full of ashes and your heart full of regret.

The next day:

Max was not in a good mood the next day.  Usually he has a nice word for, if no one else, his PA, a miracle worker of a woman he’d always been fond of, but he just glared at her and slams his door shut.

Emails.  Reports.  He plowed into work.  

The door opened, and he ignored it, steadfast in the hope that whoever it was would go the fuck away.   I could always eat them.  I don’t have to be good anymore.

A cup thumped down on his desk.  He looked up.  He didn’t recognize the woman — her steel grey hair was neat, her suit elegant.  Her heart beat strangely, and he could tell she was not — quite—human.  Great.  Someone new from corporate?

“I thought you said that everyone loves chocolate?”  She said, pointing at the milkshake.  “You’ve come far, since we last spoke outside the hospital…”

He shook his head.  “I remember you, but…”. How did she come to be here? Why? His brain was still trying to match up the homeless lady with the epitome of corporate flash in front of him.  

“Now, I didn’t say you moved in a good direction.  How did the sweet boy who spent his last twenty on dinner for himself and a homeless woman end up being a bloodsucking asshole selling fake products?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s schedule an appointment, maybe for the next century?”

“Nope.”  She reached across the desk.  “You gonna drink this?”

He shook his head and she took the milkshake, leaned back in her chair, moving the straw back and forth in the lid, making an annoying shriek sound that hurt his ears.  

“Do you think I wanted this?”  He snapped at her.  Vampires didn’t really need much in the way of sleep, but he was tired.  Tired and hurt.  “And who gives you the right to fucking judge me?”

“I’m one of the gentry,” she said.  “That doesn’t give me the right, but it gives me the power.”

“You’re fae.  That explains it.  You don’t seem human.”  

“I thought they taught you the rules.  You never call us out so clearly.  Always call us by some euphemism and hope we don’t take a notion to turn our attention towards you.”

He threw up his hands.  “Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because if I wanted to, Max Phillips, I could turn you back into the weak, dying, foolish mortal you once were.”

This stopped him.  “You could?”  He said carefully.  

“I could.”

“What’s the catch?”

She smiled.  “Good boy.  Maybe they did teach you something, after all.”  She put the milkshake on the desk.  ”You were…what?  Twenty, twenty one when you got turned?  I could, if I wanted to, make it as if you never got turned.  I could choose for you to age to the age you should be, had you not cheated death…or I could make you start from where you are right now.  If I was feeling so inclined.”

“Why would I want that?”  He scoffed.  “Do you think I want to get old and sick?  Do you think I want to spend the last year of my life in a hospital bed, unable to even piss for myself?  You think this is a fucking gift?  Enticing?  No.”

“So you don’t want a life with the librarian? Probably for the best. She is made out of sunlight and deserves so much better.”

He stopped.  He could feel the slipping…where the darker side of him started clambering up, eager to take control and rend and kill.  

“Hush.”  She said, and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, the fangs stopped aching.  “I shouldn’t needle.  It’s just so frustrating.  You were a sweet boy and you just allowed the bad in your life to make you…well, frankly, a bit of a jackass.”  She shoot him an apologetic look.  “OK, that was a cruddy apology.  But.  Back to the subject at hand.  Once, you were kind to me.  And if you do me a favor — one more favor — I will give you a choice.  A chance to choose a life for yourself instead of being a victim of bad choices and worse luck.  No strings.  No further price.”

He side eyed her a long moment.  He was intrigued, despite himself.  “What’s the favor?”

She took a small painting out of her pocket and slid it over to him.  “Another debt to pay…that woman has a soul mate out there.  I know where he is.  If you get her to my house tomorrow night, I can unite them, give them a chance at well deserved happiness.”

“Yeuch.”  He said, then picked up the painting.  “Wait.  That’s my PA.”

“Is it?  How delightful.  Isn’t just splendid how fate intervenes.”  She put a card on the desk.  “This is the address.  Hope to see you.”  She held up her finger.  “There is one thing.  She can’t know.  You have to get her there without her knowing why.  Alright?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”  He muttered.

“Good.  I am glad you understand.  Ciao!”

He picked up the card.  And cursed a bit.

NIght, in the time middle of nowhere:

“So, Mister Phillips…are you taking me out into the middle of the woods to murder me?”  His PA asked, laughing.  She didn’t know he was a vampire.  Telling people what he was hadn’t worked out very well at his last job, so he’d been much more circumspect this time.

“I promise, you are safe.  From me.  I don’t know what Corporate will do, though,” he said, turning down another road.  

“So, did they tell you what the meeting is about?”

“It’s meant to be a retreat.  All the heads of the various branches and their PA’s.  They want to re-envision the future of the company”. He took one hand off the wheel to put air quotes in the right place.  “Apparently they messed up your email address so we didn’t get the invite in time.  Someone caught it and called me directly.”

“I hope the place they picked is nice…”. She was looking out the window, trying to make out the road ahead.  “Carol in accounting is super jealous.  I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

“Well, I am irresistible.”

“Mostly.”  She grinned at him.  A square of light grabbed her attention.  “I think we’re here.”

He pulled up to the house.  It looked sketchy at best, and the looks his PA were casting made him wonder if her trust was stretching a little too thin.

He got out and walked up to the porch.  The Fae came out this time wearing a chic, flowery dress.  She ignored Max and called to his PA.  “Don’t be afraid.  You are here so I can talk to you about your dreams…and by that, I mean the Spaniard, with the scar over his eye.”

The PA froze.  “You…you know about him?”  

“Go inside, dear, and I will tell you all about him.  But I need to talk to Max, here, first”

His PA stopped next to him, put her hand on his arm.  “Will you be OK?”

“Absolutely.  You know me.”

She went into the house.  

“Come here, Max.”  The Fae held out her hand, gesturing him to come up to the porch.  He did.  A card table was set up, with one chair.  Two cards lay face down.  “Here is your choice.  Are you ready?”

He stood there, looking at the table, and nodded.  Fear coursed through him, as strong as the day cold hands grabbed him from behind, teeth sinking into his throat…

She reached down and flipped over a card.  The Queen of Spades.  “Darkness ever lasting.  A vampire queen even now is looking for her equal.  She will choose you, and the two of you will know power beyond your wildest dreams…until enough people get angry about it and decide to deal with you both.  You will not love her, but who needs love when you have sex and death and all the power you ever hoped for?”

She reaches again, flips over another card.  The Queen of Hearts.  “And this.  This is life.  Your soul will wake up, and you will be twenty one and full of possibilities again.  Your heart will beat every beat that was stolen from you.  The slate will not be wiped entirely clean, but you will have a chance — a chance with your lovely librarian.  Children.  Be kind when you were once cruel, and live a decent, good life.”  

His lips were numb.  “How…how long?”

“Long enough.  You will not feel cheated.  It will be a plain sort of life, but it will be yours, and you will have the woman you love…some would say that is worth dying for.”

“What do you know about death?  Your kind just fade when they are tired of living.  You will never know the absolute fucking horror of your body betraying you.  The fucking humiliation that waits.  The pain.”

“No.”  She said softly.  “I do not.”  She kissed his temple.  “I am sorry.  If I had met you sooner, perhaps…but, in any case, I consider all debts paid.  When you are ready, pick up the card representing your choice, and rip it in half.  Choose well, Maxwell Phillips.  May we never meet again.”

He didn’t notice her leave.  He sat down, weak, at the table.

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  

He’d seen both his parents die terribly.  After he was turned, he’d mourned, then he realized the gift he’d been given.  No hospitals.  No lingering disease.  No pain.

His hand hovered next to the Queen of Spades.  No love, but power and sex.  He’d tried to recover, tried to be good, for you.  And he’d started feeling the guilt.  And with guilt, came all the excuses.  That he was living according to the nature that had been forced upon him.  That he was giving people a gift…they died, or they become something that could never die.

You don’t punish the wolf for being a wolf.

But that was why it had been easy to walk away.  Because you deserved better.  Not a vampire.  Not a wolf.  A man…

He did not hear the car, but he heard the thump of the other man’s steps as he mounted the porch.  

“She’s in there…”  he said, barely paying attention.  

When the other man left, he repeated what he said to him, in his head.  Choosing between life and death.

He picked up the Queen of Hearts.  His hands were shaking.  He ripped the card in half.  Darkness roared around him, pulled him under.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of his apartment.  

No.  His fucking.  College.  Dorm room.

“Dude, you started early.”  Evan’s stupid face appeared as he bent over him.  

Max wondered if he could punch him in the face.  It would feel really, really good to punch the other man in the face,

“OK, well, I’m going to an away game…see you sometime tomorrow.”

He put the palms of his hands in his eyes.  “Yeah…have fun.”

Evan stepped over him.  “See ya…wouldn’t want to be ya!”  The door slammed shut and Max raised both hands in a one finger salute towards it.

He made himself get up and go to the bathroom.  He looked younger but not better, per se.  What is wrong with me?  What’s this feeling?

It wasn’t just that he could feel his body working.  Feel breath (was breathing always so fucking noisy?) and heat beats and aches in his neck and back from laying weird on the floor.

He’d lived for years.  But right now, he was still the same angry, miserable hit mess of a man he’d been at this point of his life.  

A phone was ringing, he went and grabbed it.

“Hey Maxie.  Is Evan gone?”  Evan’s girlfriend.  Great.

Oh.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look…”

“Awesome.  I bought the cutest bra and panties…”

And this is where, he thought, this is where he took the step to becoming the man you deserved him to be.  “That’s great.  But you know…I only want to fuck you because your boyfriend is an annoying twit.”

Shocked silence.  OK still an asshole.  Check.  So much for being a sweet boy when I was younger.  “Look. I meant what I said.  You are beautiful. You are probably far, far too good for Evan. Or maybe not, if you are willing to screw around with an asshole like me. In any case, you deserve better. But you have to decide what better is.”

This treated him to a string of profanity before the woman hung up.

Then, he walked to the infirmary, and asked for aspirin. And if there were any free spots for the therapist.

Sunday, the conversation between roommates went like this:

“So you were going to screw my girlfriend?”

A shrug — Max concentrated on the video game.  “Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He paused the game.  “Because you deserve better.”

He felt Evan throw himself on the couch next to him.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just so fucking happy and peppy and optimistic and everything is going to be awesome but I think the world is shit and misery and maybe if you dialed it back a little I we could have conversations that didn’t end with me wanting to punch your face.”

“Dude.”  It sounded defeated and apologetic at the same time.

Max held a controller out to him. “Sorry. I’ll try to be less of an asshole.”

He took it.  “I’ll try to be less…happy?”

Max sighed.  “Just don’t get me kicked out, ok? I can’t afford anywhere else and I really don’t want to end up in Transylvania.”

Two years later, he decided he could go and find you.

Most people went to nice places on their spring break.

Max got on a bus and headed to a University in the next state.  They’d had their Spring break a week sooner.

There you were. Sitting cross legged on a bench with a man with a streak of blonde in his hair, and a suit coat with elbow patches.  Elbow patches.  Pretentious asshole.

You were tucking hair behind your ear. You liked him. Max wondered if he should leave, come back…in a year?  Three?  When did he have a right to become part of your life?  Did he even?

You look at him and smile and it is sunshine and he can’t leave.

The man on the bench says something about class.  “See you at work,” she tells him, and he lopes off in an easy walk to one of the brick covered class buildings.

Max approaches carefully.  “Hey.  Um.  I’m thinking about transferring here, wondered what it’s like?”

She shifted her bag over, even though there was plenty of room to sit, and he took it as an invite.  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

He gave her his best smile. “Everything. I want to know everything.”

[apparently-i-like-mcyts-now]

HHHHH IM LATE

TFTSMP: Haunted Mansion liveblog

oooh tubbo and ranboo are twins JFIDOKE

dream is francis?? okey

PORKUMS FJJSIWKJEF NOOO

OH MY GOD THIS IS ACTUALLY REALLY FUNNY

Francis really wants to fight man,,,

Gump!!!

3 and a half stars airbnb lets go

Francis really wants to throw hands

truth or dare??

oh its duck duck goose

GOTTA GO FAST

god the foreshadowing

ASH IS A GAMBLER JFJFIOSOW

all of them trash talking karl,, L

noooo gump is getting bullied :[

NOOOO GUMP

FRANCIS LMAO

He TOOK A SHOWER LAST MONTH???????

HUH GLATT????

BAD DECISIONS JGJFIOSOWKD ASH AND ZACHARY ARE THE BEST

chat going fragrance man

GLATT

the twins are the best characters fight me

GLATT IS A LANDLORD

"WHAT IS THAT STUPID HAT"

also mantopia????

THE TWINS GOD I LOVE THEM HHHHHH

rash,,,,, god

ASH REALLY DOESNT WANT TO STAND UP

ZACHARY,,,, ICONIC

GEORGE IS STILL RUNNING,,,,

GLATT,,,,,

"hes got stick knees",,,, the twins

porkums is 36 years old

poor gump nooo

uh,,,

bitcoin,,,

and glatt is once again an alcoholic

gump and rash,,, what are these names

ZACHARY IS THE BEST BOI

OH DAMN THE BUILDS,,,

the twins in the background

"My castle"

oh gosh the builds,,,

francis Really wants to throw hands

hhhhhh what the hell??

SCHLATT'S LAUGH JFOEOWOD

WHAT IS THE VERY SPECIAL BUTTON

THE TWINS IN THE BACKGROUND HFJDKEKG

(take a shot of water everytime i talk abt the twins)

"HE'S SENILE" OH MY GOD

"All the cool kids were doing it, i just wanna be popular :["

"BYE CONNER" "HAVE FUN" TWINS

connor is gone crabrave

"SIMP"

they dipped UDUSIIQJWKF

FRANCIS IS SUCH A DICK FJJDJEJEJF

SCHLATT IS SO FUNNY???

the twins really are the best

PORKUMS,,,,,,

THE TWINS REALLY WANT CANDY, HUH?

ZACHARY SUPREMACY

porkums is gone crabrave

the twins want haribos

"Connor brought us all together--where are they going?"

HFJDIKSJEKFI HE FELLL RASH NOOOO

THE TWINS,,,,

GUMP NOOO

nvm scchlatt saved him

ZACHARY AND ASH'S COMMENTARY IS SO FUNNY TO ME

NOOOOO GUMP

mans

"We should invest in landmines." "Yeah we can ask landmines for christmas"

1 in 7.5 TRILLION

THE SPEEDRUN MUSIC

FRANCIS CHEATING ARC /J

HHHHHHH

FRANCIS IS A SIMP

gumps bday pog

FRANCIS REALLY WANTS TO THROW HANDS

RASH FJKSKWKEG

EVERYONES SCREAMING

ASH MY BOI

ITS A BATTLE ROYALE

THIS IS JUST CHAOS

THEYRE JUST FULL OF ARROWS,,,,

THE TWINS ARE SO FUNNY

FRANCIS JUST WANTS TO THROW HANDS

GLATT

GREG IS SO BAD,,,,,

OH GOD

GJOSOWKEKOFOG THEYRE TOO CHAOTIC TOGETHER

"hi ash" "hi zachary" "i have lots of arrows" "mmhm"

Hhhhh the wifi

Poll pog which means someone dies

porkums is winning the poll

eyo no ads not subscribed check

chat has decided that the twins had to survive no matter what

PORKUMS IS GONNA DIE

FRANCIS WOKE UP AND CHOSE VIOLENCE

JSCHLATT'S DEMONIC VOICE

HHHHHHHHHHH

OH GOD

PORKUMS IS GONE CRABRAVE

bababooey

THE SPEEDRUN MUSIC

NOOO GUMP

BAHHAHAHAHAHHAH GUMP NOOOO

DUDUDUUDUDUDUDU

HFJFIKWJEF SCHLATT,,,

FRANCIS REALLY TOOK THAT MINECART

YO THIS IS SO SCUFFED JFIFISIJEJF

THEY BROKE THE RAILS

GUMP

THEYRE STILL ON THE CARTS,,,,

chat has come to a consensus: do Not kill the twins

JOEY IS POPPING OFF IM LOVE HIM

POOR JOEY FJFJIDIWKW

FRANCIS FELL OFF FJJDKWKEJG

this is so scuffed

"ope there i go" twins my beloved

FRANCIS HAS EXPERIENCE JRIEIWKMRKG

wow

zachary is smart :]

francis parkour god

WIPEOUT POGGERS

wait the BACHELOR??????

man karl really flirts with all of sapnap's characters huh.

LMAO ALL OF CHAT IS GOING KRASH

SOMEONE EDIT THEM WITH THE SUGAR CRASH THINGY

omg poll number 2

istg if the twins get voted off i will scream

ISTG

HHHHHHHH DONT VOTE ASH

DO NOT SEPARATE THEM

Francis is winning the second poll

FRANCIS IS GONNA DIE

G L A T T

francis is gone crabrave

SOMEONE IN CHAT SAID KATNISS EVERDREAM JFJFIDKKEKEJG

FRANCIS EVERDREAM

"I miss his mustache already"

NO NOT ASH

WAIT ZACHARY IS GONE HELP NO

NOOOOO I AM ACTUALLY SAD

WAIT ASH EAIT NOOOOOO

THEYRE BOTH GONE NOOOO

oh ash is back

G LA TT

WE MISS ZACHARY

chat is sobbing rn

hhhhhhh ash is upset yall i hate this

RASH BEST FRIEND POG

LMAOO THEY REALLY JUST BE TROLLING GREG HUH

LMAOOOO

oooof

Potions

"i cant swim. wait nvm im a jock i can swim"

EGG?????

EGGGGG?????

theyre besties your honor

Poll time uh oh

I HAD TO STOP LIVEBLOGGING BC I HAT TO EAT LUNCH

greg is gone crabrave

dadschlatt jfjckc

THIS SO SCUFFED

MY GOD

OOOOOOOOH SAVE THEM PLEASE

DO NOT SEPARATE THE TWINS AGAIN

THEYRE DEAD

NOOOOO ZACHARY

ASH IN THE BACKGROUND HUHUHYHUHHU

THEYRE UNDEAD

OH MY GOD THE BOOK

OH MY GOD THE BOOK

iS THE BOOK??

BOOK??

HHEH??

Or???

Are they not dead??

huh???

either way the twins are united again :]

THE TWINS

awww glatt is lonely :[[

oh gosh

heh??

oh god duduududududu

WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH THE LORE LMAOOOOOOO

its a good end poggers

IN BETWEEN POG

1st book: titled 1

ThE BOOK HAS A LITTLE :] the author is happy that karl is back i think

NOTHER BOOK!! Its titled 2

MORE THINGS ABT THE INBETWEEN

bedroom pog

THERE ARE MULTIPLE KARLS?

uhoh

third book is titled ????? and it says find a way into the portal

its more important than you know

next book has dont stray from the path written repeatedly

book 5 is titled 3

Apparently the inbetween is for all time travellers

oh god i thought he was gonna jump

6th book, titled ???? says to go under the tree

You cant afford not to

7th book says the same thing as book number 6

yo the birch tree,,

THERES A PRESSURE PLATE INSIDE THE POND

8th books says thank god you found it

9th says dont trust the castle and stuff its going to fast for me to type

OH THERES A ROW OF BOOKS IN FRONT OF THE TREE

all of them seem to say just stick to the path repeatedly

another book, this one titled 4

Its calls the inbetween beautiful and a time traveller's dream

credits!!!!

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 17)

She doesn’t come home that night or the next. So Mai caves, partially under the pressure of Ursa’s rising anxiety.

“She’s probably at ‘er factory.” Mohi shrugs.

This does little to alleviate Ursa’s concert. “Her what?”

“It used to manufacture war machines.” Zenyul remarks.

“An abandoned factory!? Those are...they’re unsanitary and full of blades and broken beams.”

“She always goes there when she’s upset.” She cuts Mai a pointed glare and just like that she recalls the woman’s warning not to hurt her daughter. “Been goin’ ta that factory fer a long while now. Ain’t nothing to worry ‘bout.” Mohi assures.

“She’s been gone for…”

“Only a day.” Zuko cups his hand over Ursa’s. “Azula can take care of herself. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“Girl jus’ needs time ta clear ‘er head s’all.”

“I’ll go check on her.” Mai grumbles. She is certain that she will come to regret this decision. Whether Azula is withdrawn or furious she is in for a difficult and tedious time. Really she shouldn’t go at all. But, frankly, she’d do just about anything to keep Mohi from glaring at her with that much hatred.

“Boy, ya git  on up ‘n go find your sister!”

Both Kaz and Zuko rise.

“I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout ‘choo.” She jabs her finger at Zuko.

“He doesn’t have to come.” Mai grumbles.

“He’s a goin’.”

The argument is settled. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have to talk to him. And she doesn’t. It isn’t out of hatred nor dislike. It isn’t out of anything at all in particular. Perhaps it is just less awkward. They reach the factory and she leaves Kaz to do the calling. He tries Snapdragon first and after getting no answer he tries ‘princess’ and then ‘Azula’.

Mai finally speaks directly to him, I’ll look inside, I know where her nest is. You can check around outside.”

“Yeah, that werks.” He agrees.

The building has a certain chill to it now that Azula has left it vacant for some time. She is twice as hesitant to ascend the ladder, it seems to sway more than ever and when she reaches the top, she finds no reward. Azula isn’t in there picking through her hoard.

She climbs back down and takes the stairs to the upper levels. She is beginning to speculate that Azula isn’t here. She wouldn’t put it past her to have run off to find the Forgetful Valley a second time.

With a drawn sigh she takes the fire escape. This is where she finds Azula and her stomach has never plummeted faster. By Agni’s fire, she wishes that the princess would have just run off into the jungle again. She is so still, so nauseatingly still. And there is blood.  Too much of it.

Spirits, has she been here all night. She feels queasy beyond compare. She nearly hurls over the side of the railing when she sees Azula’s legs. She takes a deep breath, “Kaz!” Her voice strains, she isn’t used to yelling so loudly. “Kaz!”

“Ya find her?”

“Yeah, and I need your help.”

She is scared to feel for her pulse. She reaches out regardless. It is only faintly reassuring to find a subtle beating. She rubs her hands over her face. She shouldn’t have kissed Kaz. Spirits, what was she thinking.

Snapdragon’s goofy lopsided smile appears in her mind, accompanied by that delighted and loud laugh. Her face is so still, her expression so pained. It doesn’t sit will, not on Snapdragon. On Azula, sure. But not on the face of joyful Snapdragon.

.oOo.

Her head hurts. Her legs hurt, what she can feel of them anyways. Everything just hurts.

She forces her eyes open, expecting to see the sun glaring mercilessly down upon her. She doesn’t remember when she had passed out. She recalls that she had been trying to stop the bleeding and then nothing at all.

But she is not strewn out on hard metal. She is back in the infirmary and wrapped in more bandages than when she had left.

There is no one around, no one save for a healer. She swallows, the really are all angry with her. She tries to sit up and the healer is by her side in an instant, gently coaxing her back to the mattress. “Not yet.” She says gently.  “At least wait until your food gets here.” She hands her a cup of water.

Some fifteen minutes pass and then another five. And Mai enters. She sets a small bento box in her lap. “I’m not a very good cook. Kaz and Zenyul did most of the work.”

Azula nods and heaves herself into a sitting position. She feels so dizzy and tired and her fingers fumble with the box. Mai helps her pry the lid open. She picks at the rice first and then a small helping of noodles.

“You didn’t have to jump.” Mai mumbles.

For a moment she doesn’t register the weight of the remark. When she does, she shakes her head. “I was just trying to get to the top. I figured that I could do it now that I have my bending back…”

She supposes that she won’t be doing much of that anymore. Her face pales; she can’t climb, she can’t do parkour, she can’t even get to her hoard. She can’t do anything that can help take her mind off of things.

Mai looks profoundly relieved. “You really did just fall?”

She holds out her sprained wrist, “I hurt it more trying to catch myself.” She thinks that maybe if it hadn't been so bruised prior, she might not have hurt it so badly. She wonders if she’ll be able to walk again. She inquires as much and the healer comes to her with a small pin. She pricks Azula’s thigh and then her calf. She winces with each.

“You’ll be fine as long as you let your legs heal right.”

Azula lays back, it is more than a relief.

“Kaz helped you make this?” She gestures to the box.

Mai nods.

“He’s still mad?”

She nods again. “I don’t think that he will be for long.”

“Are you?”

“I want to be.” Mai sighs. “I really want to be...”

“But…”

“You just fell off of a building and you look like a kicked rabaroo. It’s kind of pathetic.” She laughs.

Azula frowns and crosses her arms. “Where is mother?”

“Which one?”

“Both of them.”

“I can get them for you. Zuko will probably tag along.”  

She starts to stand but Azula catches her by the wrist. “Stay with me.” With a sigh, Mai sits back down.

.oOo.

Azula still doesn’t let go of her hand. Likely she thinks that she is going to try to leave again. She exhales again and brushes Azula’s hair out of her face. She rests her hand on her cheek. “At least you don’t have to worry about any new scars, they’ll disappear when you get your real face back.”

“My face, not my body.” Azula replies. “I don’t think that my body changed.”

Mai shrugs, the last fragments of her anger fall away when Azula looks back at the bento box and mutters, “you forgot the marigold.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still eat that.”

Azula quirks a brow. “I had my memories when we opened up the new shop.”

Mai doesn’t know how her brain had managed to gloss that one over. “Are you trying to tell me that, that wasn’t part of trying to pretend like you didn’t have your memories?”

Azula clears her throat, “the taste grew on me.”

“Spirits, you’re a feral little beast beast.” Mai rolls her eyes. She really can’t hate her. Not anymore. Not when the line between Snapdragon and Azula is so blurred. Not when it becomes so outright that they are one and the same. She carefully lifts Azula’s bandaged hand and, with a moment of hesitation, offers it a little kiss before putting it back down just below her chest. Azula cradles it in her uninjured hand.

“Who do you think is going to have the better lecture; Mohi or Ursa?”

“Honestly, I can’t wait to listen to both.”

“Did Zuko cry?”

“It was more like this look of distress and concern.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“People care about me.” She clarifies. “I didn’t think people cared about me.”

“Of course we care about…”

“Everyone cares about Snapdragon. I...I didn’t think that anyone cared about me.”

Mai bites the inside of her cheek, she probably hadn’t helped any in that regard. “That’s why you became Snapdragon, isn’t it?”

Azula nods, “I was tired of being alone. A new face was my best chance.”

“You didn’t think to try to apologize?”

Azula cringes. “I’m not good with that. I don’t think that I would have felt loved if it was given to me...no memories came with no...trust issues.”

Mai rubs her lips together and tenderly strokes the back of Azula's hand. “I guess that it would have been difficult to just apologize and move on.” She can’t even promise the princess that she would have given her a chance. She has an inkling that Azula knows it too. Of course she does, she wouldn’t have run off if she hadn’t.

“Well, maybe it’s a good thing you did leave.” Zuko shrugs. Mai isn’t sure how long he had been standing there; Azula’s cringe tells her that she isn’t sure either.  

“Why’s that, Zuzu?” She mumbles. “So you could have a break from me?”

“That too. But also because…” He ponders for a moment. “Because I think that Snapdragon is a part of you. The part that you’ve been afraid to show everyone. A new face gave you the chance to do it.”

Azula’s cheeks color ever so subtly. “That’s not…I’m not some feral...”

Mai holds her pointer to Azula’s lips and quirks a brow. “You don’t have to repress yourself. Trust me, it...its tiresome.” Maybe she ought to start surfacing her own bizarre interests and odd habits. The ones that her mother would chastise her for.

“We like you better when you don’t refine and polish yourself. You’re easier to talk to.”

Azula nods. “You guys like me.”

Mai sighs. “Yes we like you, Azula, not just Snapdragon.”

She opens her mouth.

“Not just the Snapdragon parts of you. All of you.” Zuko adds.

“Even the part that is going to laugh at you for crying over me.”

Zuko cringes. “You’re pushing it.”

“But you’re still going to bring me a cup of tea?”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

Azula smiles and nuzzles her head into her pillow. She closes her eyes.  

Mai wants to get up and fetch herself a scroll or knitting supplies, or something to occupy herself with while Azula rests but she told the princess that she wouldn’t leave. She supposes that it wouldn’t hurt to have a rest for herself. It had been a stressful few days.

.oOo.

Azula feels as though her life has come to a bleak standstill. She can’t climb nor scramble, she can’t firebend to her liking, and she can’t go out and reclaim her old face. Though it is rather nice to have Mai caring for her; bringing her meals and laying on the bed with her. She sits as close as she can without risking damaging Azula’s legs worse. The princess is dissatisfied to find that Mai usually keeps a foot or two between them, despite insistence that she isn’t that fragile.

Mohi and Ursa check in frequently to the point that she thinks they are hovering. Were her speech written, Mohi would be pages into a multi-part lecture on climbing safety and not doing anything bold and risk at the height of anger. It doesn’t matter how many times she insists that it would have been relaxing had she not fallen.

Ursa is softer, but equally as annoying. It is all forehead kisses, babying, and doting. But she doesn’t want to push her away again, so the woman gets away with it. She finds that Zuko is, to her shock and dismay, the most pleasant company.

He brings her things to keep her busy; lets her help him work through some of the more tedious and tricky contracts and proposals that the council presents him with. It keeps her mind sharp and makes her feel useful. Other times he will bring a Paisho board or other strategy games. Sometimes he just sits and tells her stories while she and Mai listen. One day he tells her that, by the time she heals fully, TyLee should be around to vision. Her heart flutters at this. She wonders how the woman will take her relationship with Mai.

.oOo.

It is good to see Azula getting fresh air again. She seems happier for it, far less grumpy. In general, being at the flower shop seems to soothe her. She has taken to opening all of the windows, letting in a breeze that has the petals and leaves in a constant state of rustling.

She watches her engage in conversation as she hands over a bouquet of iris, clover, and foxglove. She is certain that it is doing Azula well to speak with the general public; if there is one thing that Snapdragon and Azula share it is that they both stumble through basic conversation in some way or another. She wonders if Azula will continue working at the shop once she gets her own face back.

Mai watches the customer leave, the last rush of the day has finally come to a close. “I think that this is the most you’ve talked to anyone...ever.”

Azula swivels her wheelchair around to face Mai and shrugs. “I am tired.”

Mai sighs, “you did good.” She rubs the princess’ shoulders and gives her a soft kiss. Azula puts her hands in her lap. “How is your wrist feeling?”

“Sore.”

“And your legs?”

“Right now, they aren’t.”

Mai chuckles. “Do you want a cup of tea? I’ve been saving some leaves so you have plenty of choices.”

Azula nods and rummages through her collection and picks out several flavors. “Any of these will do.”

.oOo.

She isn’t much help with closing duties; she can’t reach the cleaning supplies from her chair and it is rather hard to hold a broom and wheel herself around at the same time. It is just as well, she really doesn’t like cleaning anyhow. The messes have always been funner to make. She can see it in Mai’s eyes that she is relieved that she doesn’t have to clean up a counter full of dirt, the sort of mess that she used to leave behind when Snapdragon would scoop up handfuls of dirt just to watch it sift out of her closed fist. Granted she still does this from time to time when she grows bored, but she keeps her space nice and tidy. There is something relaxing about watching dirt fall, something about the feeling of it shifting in her palm.

When she is through she withdraws her hand and ignites a small flame to burn away that which is still stuck to her hand. “You ready to go?” Mai asks.

“Yes.”

“I suppose that you’re going to have a bath when you get home?”

“Correct.”

She isn’t sure what kind she will have under orders to not get her casts wet. “You are going to have to help me.”

“Why don’t you have one of your serving girls--”

Azula shakes her head, “that’s...uncomfortable.” She paues. “I trust you.”

Mai smiles. She thinks that that is what implores her to roll her eyes and agree to help. Undressing is such a tedious task one that is sprinkled with questions like, “how did you even get these pants on?”  And answers like, “with effort and an hour or so.”

“I am going to have Yora get you a robe.”

“Yes. That is what I wear to bed.”

“It’s what you’re going to wear in the day too, so we don’t have to struggle like this again.” Mai carefully lifts her out of the wheelchair and sits her upon the edge of the spring and hands her a towel.

She finds that bathing is no longer a relaxing endeavor, it is a constant fight to keep her casts dry.

“A little water isn’t going to hurt it.” Mai insists as Azula brings the towel to wipe away the water that has made its way into her lap for, well she has lost count of how many times now.

“It would be helpful to have a water bender to just shift it around and create a space for my legs.”

“Well we don’t have any waterbenders on hand.” Mai replies and hands Azula a bar of soap. She scrubs herself with both haste and efficacy and dries herself just as quickly. She waits for Mai to disappear and come back with her robes. She dresses herself and Mai helps her back into the wheelchair. She smells, once again, like Snapdragon and Firelily. And for it she feels like herself again.

Mai helps her into bed. Though it is a lot cozier, she finds that she doesn’t need her nest when Mai chooses to spend the night in her bed. Mai is just as warm as her softest pillow and is much better for conversation. Sleeping isn’t exactly comfortable, consider her preference for sleeping on her side or stomach. But Mai makes it more bearable by either rubbing her arms or stroking the back of her hands.

Mostly, this coaxes her to sleep. And it is nice to wake up to a slumbering Mai still holding her hand.

[xplrvibes]

Two Youtubers and Two Ghost Hunters walk into an abandoned factory...

Ok, but just imagine:

Sam and Colby arrive to film a video at an old abandoned shoe factory in the middle of the woods.  This factory is almost completely overtaken by nature; trees growing out of the ceiling, vines covering the walls, floorboards rotted away to nothing; the full urban decay experience. 

At first, everything is status quo: they do their introduction at the mouth of the forest and spend the next 30 minutes loudly stomping through the forest with all the stealth of a bull in a china shop, complete with screaming at every spider they see and running in fear from a couple of squirrels.  They finally arrive at the abandoned shoe factory and proceed to climb up a semi-detached, almost completely rusted rain spout, then climb through a tiny hole in the ceiling and drop down onto an admittedly not very stable floor. 

They are in.

They walk down a long, dark hallway and round a corner, where they are met with a crumbling staircase.  A piece of the railing is missing and a couple of the steps are completely gone.  Carefully, they make their way down this staircase and round another corner, where they discover...

...a wide open door to the outside.  Upon further inspection, they realize that this door was just 50 yards away from the rain spout they had just spent 30 minutes parkouring their way up.

 They laugh it off and continue on their merry way, filming every random piece of graffiti they see.  The poke their heads in a few of the doors--Colby takes a piece of busted floor tile as a souvenir because why not?--as they continue to explore.

They reach the end of another hallway and are just about turn another corner, when from behind them they hear a loud rumbling sound and--impossibly, something that suspiciously sounds like AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” being blasted at full volume. They look at each other for a brief second, confusion mixed with absolutely terror, but before they can react, the rumbling and the music suddenly...stops.

“What the hell was that?” Sam asks the camera (held by Colby).  

“I don’t know man, but it sounded like--like a demon, or a growling animal, or something,” Colby replies, already starting to back up.

“A demon listening to AC/DC?” Sam snarks.  

“I don’t know, dude! It didn’t sound normal, whatever it was. Someone is definitely here,” Colby replies.

A door banging and the sound of heavy booted footsteps is given to them as confirmation.

“Holy shit!” Sam stage whispers, wide eyes seeking out the camera. “Guys, someone is definitely in here with us!”

“We need to leave, now!” Colby stage whispers back.

The two boys begin a mad, frantic dash down the hallway and around the corner, camera bouncing in Colby’s hand as they go.  

“Go, go, go!” Sam is yelling, even though he is ahead of Colby.

“Dude, shut up, they’re gonna hear you!” Colby un-ironically shouts back.

As they reach the end of another hallway, they are suddenly stopped in their tracks by the sound of voices just around the corner:

“--shouldn’t even be wasting our time on this milk run, we should be out there tracking down God’s ass--”

“Yes I know, Dean, but we’ve got nothing on that front--”

Colby steps around Sam and pokes the camera around the corner, catching the image of two tall figures heading down the corridor right towards them. “Guys, there’s definitely someone here, I don’t know if you can see them on the camera but they are right...there,” Colby whispers as he attempts to focus.

“Are--are those guns in their hands?” Sam whispers from behind Colby.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Colby replies, before adding for the camera, “Guys, they have guns.  Can you see them?  I hope you can see them.”

“Brother...we need to go!” Sam whispers frantically...and loudly.  He tugs on Colby’s shirt sleeve to pull him along and the two quickly begin to run down the hallway they just came from, looking for a way out of the damn shoe factory.

10 frantic minutes of running later, the duo stop to catch their breath/update their audience.  

“I-I think...we lost them,” Colby pants, hand on his ribs, shirt long since discarded because when you have to run, you might as well run shirtless.

Sam has the camera now, the boys seamlessly transferring filming duties while running.  He points it at Colby, then back towards himself.  “Yea, guys, so we just ran for like...20 minutes,” he explains breathlessly.  “Two really tall guys with guns were in here, I don’t know if you saw them but...they definitely saw us and they were definitely chasing us.  I think we lost them now, though.”

“Yea, I think we’re safe,” Colby wheezes as he straightens up a bit.

“Guess again,” comes a deep, intimidating voice from directly behind Sam.

Sam and Colby scream in concerto as they turn around to face the ghosts? demons? serial killers? who just caught them.

“Oh crap, tell me this isn’t another Ghostfacers situation,” says the shorter tall one.  He’s still tall, mind you, just...shorter than the MASSIVE OAK TREE standing beside him.

The massive oak tree ignores the shorter tall one in favor of pouting at the terrified boys. “What are you two doing in here?” he demands.

Gulp.  Two pairs of terrified eyes meet each other before turning back to the enormous scary guys with guns standing before them.  “Um...we’re exploring?” Colby offers hesitantly.

“Exploring?” Massive Oak Tree huffs in disbelief (and a frankly insulting amount of derision).

“Yea!  Like...that’s our brand, you know?  XPLR?”  Colby tries.

He’s met with two unimpressed glares.

“We’re youtubers, we do exploration videos and sometimes we hunt ghosts,” Sam offers helpfully.  “Our names are--”

“--Don’t care, get out,” interrupts the Shorter Tall guy.

“--Sam and Colby,” Sam finishes weakly.

“OK, well, Sam and Colby, our names are Sam and Dean,” Massive Oak Tree introduces himself and his partner, who is now openly rolling his eyes at the display of politeness, “and we are actual ghost hunters. For a living.”

“Like...Zak Bagans?” Colby scrunches his nose in confusion.  “Oh!  Are you guys scouts for Ghost Adventures?”

“Ok, no, I’m done” the Shorter Tall guy-Dean-proclaims. “You two morons need to take your little camera and get your dumb asses out of here before you get yourselves killed.”

“This is dangerous,” Sam adds, trying to herd the now excited boys towards the door.  “Really, you need to leave before someone gets hurt.”

“No but like, we’re big fans of Ghost Adventures,” Sam tries, even as Dean grabs the collar of his shirt and the back of Colby’s neck and begins forcefully escorting them out.  “We’ve always admired Zak and like, we would totally like to collab--”

The ominous sound of the door slamming is the only thing that saves the boys from being knocked out by an increasingly done-with-their-bullshit Dean Winchester.

A cold chill sweeps down the hallway and envelops all four men, causing them to shiver violently and look at each other in alarm. 

“What was that?” Colby whispers.

From around the corner, a loud boom is heard, followed by a haunting, echoing wail.

“What the hell was THAT?” Sam exclaims in alarm.  Colby grabs on to Sam’s arm as the Winchesters look over their heads at each other.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean sighs.  

[seasonofthegeek]

Not a Date

The next drabble on my list for the fanfic trope mash-ups was requested on ko-fi by @staylostinstereo for the prompts “not a date” and “first time” with Adrien and Marinette. Thanks so much for the request!

Adrien and Marinette have retired from their superhero lives and are reuniting in Paris for dinner. 

___

“This isn’t a date,” Marinette said for the third time since she’d met Adrien outside the train station. They walked side by side along the warmly lit shop fronts as dusk settled around them.

“Not a date,” he agreed but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Just two old friends seeing each other again after a few years apart.”

“Exactly.”

“And definitely not two retired superheroes reigniting the old flame.”

“Adrien,” she warned.

He flashed her a Chat Noir-worthy smile but held up his hands in surrender. “I said ‘not’.”

“Mmmm. Besides, there’s no old flame to reignite.”

“Maybe not for you, my Lady.” He meant it to be funny, but he saw the way her eyes tightened around the edges and quickly moved on with another topic. “Hey, were you able to get a spot in that fashion show you emailed me about a few months back? New York, right?” They stopped in front of the small cafe they’d agreed on earlier and Adrien held the door open for her.

“Ah, that. No, I didn’t get in. I think I’m actually going to take a break from the fashion scene for a while.” Marinette led them to a small table and didn’t make a fuss when Adrien pulled out her chair for her. 

“That surprises me.”

“I’m just tired,” she admitted. “I work and work and work and don’t feel like I really get anywhere. It’s just...not what I was expecting, I think. I don’t know if it’s for me.” She frowned slightly as she looked down at her menu. “Does that sound as pathetic as it feels?”

His expression turned fond and understanding. “If anyone knows how hard you’ve worked, it’s me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting an easy life after everything we’ve been through.”

“Easy for you to say. Did I see that you spent a long vacation living it up on a yacht with Prince Ali?”

Adrien blushed but grinned in reply. “Who am I to deny a request from royalty?”

They both paused to give their orders to the server and Adrien chuckled uncomfortably once they were alone at their table again.

“Actually, that trip is part of why I reached out to you. I saw a few headlines calling me a rich playboy and, I don’t know, it just bothered me. I used to make a difference in people’s lives, help them, and now I just... get tan on the deck of a fancy boat and drink too much because one of my friends wanted me to join him on a trip.”

“Apparently it’s unhealthy to feel selfish to be doing something for ourselves now. We may both suffer from a hero complex,” Marinette replied dryly. “At least, that’s what my therapist says.”

He shook his head.“I still can’t believe Alix is licensed to help people work through their issues. It’s a little scary.”

“She’s actually pretty great at it if you need the tough love deal, which I do.” She tapped her fingers against the handles of the flatware laid out on a napkin. “It’s nice to hear you say that though. I’ve been feeling the same way, though I haven’t been tanning and drinking.” She winked to take the sting out of her jab and was relieved to see Adrien smile in return.

“I thought I should be taking some time for myself but it felt hollow.” His mouth twisted in irritation. “Which is frustrating because we fought for so long and it seems like we should enjoy getting to live our lives now without worrying about what’s around the next corner.”

“Not so easy though.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

“And you enjoyed being a hero.”

“So did you,” he countered. “Just for different reasons, I think.”

“Is that one of the reasons why you left the city?”

He smiled wryly. “Isn’t it why you did?”

Marinette sighed. “We could play this game all night. Yeah, I guess. It was hard to be in Paris and not be her, to not remember some of the things I should know.”

“I know what you mean.” He winced. “A bit, anyway.”

She let his comment pass without any addition. They each had their own burdens of the past to bear. “But I missed it here too. I’ve been visiting my parents for a few weeks and I’m tempted to stay.”

“I have to say I was glad you wanted to meet here. I haven’t been back since...” He paused and sipped on his water, glancing around the small cafe. It wasn’t overly crowded but there were a decent amount of tables filled. 

Marinette didn’t press him to finish his thought. She knew he hadn’t been back since they took down Hawk Moth and Mayura. Losing two of the main adult figures in his life had been hard on Adrien and no one blamed him for disappearing after the trials. She missed him though. She didn’t realize just how much until now.

Deciding she wanted to banish the darkness edging into his eyes, she reached across the table to squeeze his hand. He blinked up in surprise. “Stay with me,” she said. She meant the words to be teasing and warm but her tone had been too soft.

“I would,” he replied as quietly. 

Marinette felt an old panic rear up inside her and she snatched her hand back with a flustered laugh. “Oh! I meant, um, you know, like, mentally.”

His lashes swept downward to hide his eyes but a smile played at his lips. “I know what you meant, Marinette. Don’t worry.” He looked up at her with the not quite a smile. “This isn’t a date. I remember.”

She cleared her throat and awkwardness settled between them where warm comfort had been only moments before. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Adrien eyed her warily as if she was leading him into a trap. “Not exclusively, no.”

“But that means you are seeing someone, or someones?” She raised an eyebrow and tried to look nonchalant.

He shrugged and did another look around the room. “There are a few people I meet up with when I travel different places. There isn’t anyone serious though. What about you?”

“I stay too busy to date.” She brushed off the thoughts that bubbled up with the statement. “I tired a few times but I always ended up choosing work.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem now though, not if you stay here.” Adrien leaned away from the table when the server appeared and set their plates in front of them.

“I suppose not.” Marinette pursed her lips and found that she’d lost her appetite. Tonight was supposed to be easy and comfortable and the way it used to be, the way it felt when they were emailing, but it seemed her relationship with Adrien had gone the way of so many others. History could only do so much.

They began to eat in silence.

“Do you miss being up high?”

Marinette swallowed the bite she’d just taken and nodded. “Sometimes.”

“I really miss it. There’s just no other feeling like it.” Adrien cut into his chicken without looking up at her. “I’ve tried a few things like skydiving and extreme parkour but nothing feels the same. I guess it was part of the magic.”

“I doubt I’d be able to keep up these days.”

“You look like you could.” His cheeks darkened and he dropped his eyes as quickly as he lifted them. “I just mean...you look like you’re still in shape.”

“You’re a sweet liar.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not lying.”

“Mmm.” She liked the pink that was spreading across his cheeks. “You still look like you’re in shape too.”

“Oh, I know.” He flashed her a smug smile and she tossed a cherry tomato at him. “We’re in public! Show some respect,” he teased, lobbing it back to her plate.

“So rude.”

Their laughter quieted but the smiles remained. 

“Have you ever been back to the Tower?”

“Since we gave them up?”

Adrien nodded and took a bite of chicken.

“Not up it. I went one day and thought I could go up, but it just didn’t feel right.”

“Do you think we could tonight? I know it won’t be the same and we’ll be tourists, but...”

She felt warmth fill her. “But it’d be as close to old times as we can get.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d love to.”

___

Marinette couldn’t ignore the sting of tears as she looked out over the city. They’d gone as high up as people were allowed to but it wasn’t nearly enough. Her knuckles mottled from her grip on the railing and she blinked against the wetness coating her eyelashes.

“I know,” Adrien whispered, and he covered her hand with his. 

They stood beside each other until they were instructed to leave and they did so hand in hand.

“I don’t think I can say goodbye.” Marinette swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I knew it would be wonderful and agonizing to see you again and now I don’t want it to end.”

“I can stay in town,” he offered. “I don’t want to leave you either.”

“You can’t do that. We have different lives now.”

“We don’t have to.”

She closed her eyes and took in a shaky breath. “It wouldn’t work.”

“Only because you aren’t willing to give it a try.” Adrien stepped closer.  “Marinette, for the first time in your life, just do this without overthinking it. Give us a chance.”

“I’m not the same person I was back then.”

He gave her half a smile. “Neither am I. We can learn each other all over again.”

“This seems too crazy.”

“Oh, it is.” He nodded. “We’re practically strangers but I still think you know me better than anyone else in the whole world.” He dared to reach up and brush his knuckles gently against her cheek. “And I think I know you just as well.”

So for the first time, without overthinking it or planning it or worrying herself about it, Marinette closed the space between them and kissed Adrien the way she wished she had all those years ago because for the first time, she really felt like she could.

And, of course, he kissed her back.

Buy me a cherry coke?

[aashiqeddiediaz]

9-1-1 Season 3 Episode 17 Live Blog

TW: Sexual Assault, slight claustrophobia (be careful my dudes!)

Do not tell me I’m not going to cry in an episode titled “Powerless”

Why am I already crying

Also, I get to watch the new episode on my new TV and I am LIVING right now

All of this pre-911 commentary is me filling the fifteen minutes before the show starts, and also the few minutes before my pizza shows up

also who was gonna tell me that Jeff Goldblum saying my city’s name was gonna be so hot rip

Okay here the liveblog is:

This child :(

“We used to be a family”

I actually wanna go on a hot air balloon ride and this is not helping me at all

the hot air balloon throwback lmao

INSTA-LOOK AT EDDIE DIAZ, THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE

That mom :(

BUCK JUMPING INTO THAT BASKET SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THIS HOT AND HE HAD THE SLEEVES ROLLED UP

Do any of you think it’s part of the parkour training he did for Mindgamers? Because it has NO business being this hot.

“Buck invites Eddie” they’re HUSBANDS

Hen and Karen WIN

what is this omfg this is literally my cousin and his wife’s life

ALSO ARE THEY BRINGING THAT CHEATING TRACK AGAIN. please don’t make me hate Hen, i can’t stand cheating

SASHA ROIZ

this episode is SUCH a trigger omg

DON’T DO ANYTHING TO MICHAEL. PLEASE

Josh :(

I’m suffering with all these power references

Buck is the love of my life.

DO they need to stand so close together sir move away from your husband there are children present

I want to see Buck handle traffic? Excuse me? I’ve been ROBBED?

they played ice ice baby i’m LAUGHING

they actually jumped it i cannot

michael is FLIRTING.

the stars! they can see the stars!! 

ATHENA BETTER BE OKAY

THE MAN. 

okay can we appreciate the cinematography of this

ATHENA got the man ANYWAY and that’s the queen we all know and LOVE

All of the 118 RUSHING to find her even if the building isn’t clear is LITERALLY on brand for them

I know this scene isn’t about Buck, at all, but the closeup they had of his face...was worry for Bobby and Athena, but it was also him remembering how he’d gone off the rails when they lost access to Eddie in 3x15 fight me.

Bobby is SO unafraid to love loudly i just...

Oh Maddie is 

Karen and Chimney? PLEASE GIVE ME THIS FRIENDSHIP.

“Buck did it to me once” i just xD

No....PLEASE don’t play another cheating track. I cannot deal with that.

I can’t believe THIS

KAREN AND CHIMNEY GETTING DRUNK TOGETHER? I love 

Maddie in the back 

“meet-cute over an open chest wound” 

I KNEW IT. they were gonna do the Hen goes the medical school route.

Can I get a conversation 

are you kidding me. they’re destroying their home’s fireplace. NO ONE’S TALKING ABOUT MICHAEL’S TUMOR?

wow we really got only buddie crumbs this episode, the super super

“get it mama” HARRY omfg

Maddie doesn’t know she’s talking to the lady that broke her brother’s heart.

OKAY BUT THIS EPISODE IS GOING TO KILL ME. EDDIE’S STANDING LITERALLY RIGHT THERE I NEED TO SEE THIS PROMO AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN 

ATHENA RETIRING?

okay but i have so many theories

Buck looks destroyed AGAIN and i am going to stock up on tissues.

and there’s lone star lmao thanks for reading love y’all

[burning-clutch]

The Phantom Always Rings Twice

Read on A03: Here Pairings: None Trigger Warnings: None Total word count: 3301 Author: @burning-clutch (Team Ghost) Prompt by:  Dalv-co-official  AO3: betelgeuse

It started with small things. Little things that could be misconstrued as happenstance and coincidence, and then it evolved into something more, something bigger. And, well, William Lancer always did love a good mystery novel.

------

 It started with small things. Little things that could be misconstrued as happenstance and coincidence. Things that could be written off easily with little thought or without really thinking into it too hard.

 And while William Lancer took notice of the oddities and inconsistencies that seemed to fill one Daniel Fenton’s life, he couldn’t piece together exactly what was happening within the greater story.

 A story that he wanted to see unfold fully.

 It was like a mystery novel in a way. One would need to read through each chapter, each paragraph carefully to be able to find the breadcrumb trail left by the author to be able to figure out the final twist at the end in its entirety. As of now, he only had the pieces that were left out in the open.

 The pieces he had seen that were left behind to be seen were large and obvious, meant to throw one off the trail of the deeper lore in the pages. With glaring arrows and flashing lights, they were meant to attract your attention so that you failed to notice the tiny crumb on the floor just off to the side.

 And it worked well for a time until he had started to take notice of the crumbs. He had looked away from the glitz and offered a story on the platter and taken notice of something small, insignificant. A bruise under the boy's eye, a small garish yellow thing. He had the boy in the morning and noticed it as he went around to collect the homework he’d assigned, and of course, Fenton hadn’t done it. When he had seen the boy once again later that day the bruise was gone. There was no indication that there was any makeup used to hide it either.

 After that point, the teacher had made a point to follow the breadcrumbs. The small bits of the trail that were left behind to indicate something more. He had gotten a taste, and he wanted more. He had to solve the conundrum that was presented before him.

 So, he watched. He listened. He learned and he researched.

 He saw the boy limping to through the lunch line, but had not seen any instance of bullying that would have caused it, and once again by the time the boy was in his class once again that day, no semblance of it ever had happened.

 Abuse at home was quickly ruled out as a good portion of the things that happen to him seem to be at the school.

 He had tried to confront the boy about him clutching his chest and his rattling breaths, as though he had broken a rib or some other such thing, and simply was waved off.                  “I’m a clutz, I fell down the stairs” Daniel had said to his inquiry, dodging the question smoothly. He had seen the boy many a time simply stumble over his feet on flat ground, so tripping downstairs was not something too outlandish to believe.

 And yet in the same breath, he had also seen the teen pull off amazing feats of coordination when he believed no one was watching him. How he gracefully slid around corners to escape the quarterback’s cajoling, or how he had leaped over a railing into the back garden of the school, rolling to disperse the energy in such a way any master of parkour would be proud to see.

 He would entertain the idea of seeming smaller then he was, too. He had noticed it during a presentation when Daniel came to the front of the class. When Dashiel stuck out a foot to try to trip Daniel. Daniel’s eyes flickered for the briefest of moments to the other’s leg before hooking his ankle and preforming a marvellous pratfall. But as he lay prone on the ground he was stretched out showing his full height.

 When he regained himself and moved to the front of the class once again, Daniel had curved his back and dropped his shoulders inward, doing a wondrous impression of the hunchback of Notre Dame.

 Why would Daniel want to appear smaller? Surely appearing larger would help stop those such as Dashiel from bothering him as much, so why? What purpose did this serve?

 Then, of course, there was the matter he had seen the other’s attempt to trip him up, and instead of simply walking over the trap, he fell into it headfirst, let the class laughed at him before continuing on with whatever charade he deemed necessary to fulfil.

 Why bother with such nonsensical things when he could have easily rolled jumped or any other manner of things to avoid making himself into a laughing stock. Perhaps he didn’t like attention then?

 Well, it would be a simple theory to test. William had dabbled in sciences before majoring in English and history after all...

 Putting the attention on Daniel was an easy feat. A simple manner or pointing out his lacking marks and offering a simple way to make up the credit. A public speaking competition or a talent show. Surprisingly the teen had chosen to help out with the talent show. A Stagehand true, but still. He had no problem running out onto the stage to check microphones were working, plugged in correctly, or had good battery depending on what was being used.

 The eyes on him didn’t seem to hinder his performance, so long as he had a purpose to hone in on… so why?

 Perhaps the opposite then? Did he enjoy the attention and figured that being a laughing stock was a way to be noticed? Well, that theory was quickly squashed when he saw the teen have his clothes get stolen in Gym, and doused in pink dye turning his usually white shirt a rather flamboyant shade of flamingo.

 All eyes were certainly on him.

 Still, the teen spent a good portion of that school day hiding within his friend’s hoodie and opted to wear his Gym shorts. It was the middle of February so it was still rather cold. And with only a hoodie Daniel still braved the outdoors with little notice.

 And that was his next crumb.

 The boy didn’t seem to notice the cold.  

 The teacher had seen the teen arrive at the school the following week when a freak blizzard popped up, wearing no coat and very little protection beyond that from the frigid temperatures outside.

 He had heard of people being ‘warm blooded’ and not having the cold climate bother them too much but this was within the realm of ludacrisy! Surely his body was under duress of some kind! Was he ill?

 When asked once again Daniel had waved off his concern, “I’m good. I’m not sick just a little sleepy is all” He had deferred once again pushing off the concern and offering an easy way out, a fake map on a silver platter that he was expected to follow.

 He took the offering. If for no other reason then to throw the teen off the notion that he may be tracing his footsteps.

 It seemed to have worked as intended, though the boy still seemed ill at ease in the classroom. He had noticed Daniel shiver and for the briefest of seconds, he could have sworn he’d seen the boy’s breath.

 Sure the classroom was chilly, the school board being too cheap to allow them to turn up the heat any higher than the current brisk twenty celsius, but that was still far above where one would start to see the condensation of someone’s breath.

 He was drawn out of the musings of this current conundrum by the very topic of his brain’s musings. Hand shooting high as he wiggles in his seat, Daniel looked determined suddenly, and flighty. This was not a new occurrence either. Since the start of the youngest Fenton’s schooling career, he had been randomly ditching class. Sometimes it would be brief, entertaining the simplest of needs it would seem, other times he would not be seen for hours by any teacher in the school only to come back a while later dishevelled and out of breath as though he had run a marathon.

 William sighed and waved Daniel off. It was no use disallowing the boy to exit. He would simply leave the first chance he was given to take his leave. This has happened not only to himself but other members of the staff it seemed.

 Daniel could be as quiet as a mouse when he needed to be.

 His next trail on the line of crumbs was much larger, much more succulent. Almost like a cake crumb instead of a bread crumb. It was sweetened with honey and made him crave the full buffet table all the more.

 Hm, perhaps he should break for lunch… that was many more food allusions then usual. He must be hungry.

   As he made his way down the hall once again he saw, Daniel. He was not in his morning classroom today, though that was hardly a surprise, given the boy’s record… still, he couldn’t deny the interest he had taken in this scenario. Dashiel had cornered Michiel threatening him with a ‘beat down’ which made the man frown deeply.

 He hated how much their school funding relied on the sports departments to do well. What he wouldn’t give to have a few new books in the school. Prefibily something from the twenty-first century.

 Of course, this meant that Dashiel was able to get away with almost anything being how well he performed on the field, carrying the Casper High Ravens to the playoffs. As such a warning would be the most he could really receive for ‘roughhousing’ as it were…

 Still, before he could step in, Daniel did, dryly commenting on Dashiel’s brain capacity and quipping out a few other rather boorish insults. “What’s the matter Dash? Is your shoe size larger than your IQ?” Dashiel threw a textbook towards Daniel who ducked, only causing himself to draw more ire. “Ha, what was that? Ya missed me! Honestly, a star quarterback and can’t hit the broad side of a barn!”

 With that Daniel took off, thus getting the larger teen to give chase and letting the poor hapless nerd go in favour of a more fit target. All in all not too much by itself, but William had found the conjoining piece after classes were done and he was heading to his car.

 There was a ghost attack. Nothing new there, as they were rather common around the school, being as there was always a large congregation of people. Ghosts seemed to hit those places the most frequently after all. The leading theory was that they had more chances to gain their food source from the emotions of humans.

 This was also the main point of controversy for why Phantom was not a hero but more akin to an animal protecting its food source. Regardless of the reason, William had seen first hand the ghostly teen do his routine and had to admit, things would often be much worse without the Phantom ‘protecting his food source’ all the time.

 Regardless that thought was neither here nor there as he snapped himself out of his musings to watch for an opening to speed away in his hatchback and try his best not to damage his already thrice repaired vehicle.

 The ghosts twisted and turned around one another in a ballet that could be something akin to a world war two era dog fight, as Phantom blasted the hunter ghost from behind only to zip away from the other’s shots or expertly deflect them.

 In a way, it was mesmerizing to watch the ariel promenade, as the two spun and did their sword’s dance along the razor blade of death. However, that was not what caught his attention today. No, it was the words being spewed back and forth between the ghosts.

 “What’s the matter, Skulker? Is your shoe size larger than your IQ?” Phantom laughed out before dodging around a laser of some kind. “Ha, what was that? Ya missed me! Honestly, Zone’s greatest hunter? You can’t hit the broad side of a barn!” He quipped before flying skyward leading the ghost away from the school building by drawing the ire…

 William Lancer was not a man who was unobservant or unintelligent, and he was also not a man to ignore such coincidences such as this. Not only was it the words spoken from the ghost, but it was the      way     it was spoken as well that gave him pause. The same inflection and same tone he had heard on Daniel just a few hours prior.

 And the more he focused on it the more similarities he found.

 They had the same voice when they spoke. An easy enough fact to find and notice when compared side by side. A discussion in English class on media reporting, under the ruse of looking at the language used by the newscast, and a recording of a night's broadcast where Phantom was clearly picked up by the microphones. He had told the kids he wanted them to do a piece of mock news, a report on something in their life using the wording examples they had seen.

 The video played and he paused it right after Phantom’s smile and cheesy eighties slogan of ‘don’t do drugs’ was finished hamming up into the camera. It was then he called on Daniel to see what the teen noticed in the language used. And sure enough, the voices sounded identical, save for the echo like Phantom was talking into a tin can, but never the less it was a clue.

 And when he started looking into other things that would compare the meek child in his class to the ghostly hero that flew, fought and patrolled the town well… he became worried.

 When Daniel stood up straight, he was the same height as Phantom. When Daniel was forced to wear a proper Gym uniform, one where he couldn’t hide in a hoodie or long sleeved shirt, he was the same build. Then there were more subtle things, like the pair having the same laugh and same facial features, same windswept hair, same well… almost everything.

 But what does that mean then for Daniel? He had seen ghosts that have a shapeshifting ability before, most notably that awful ghostly therapist and the assistant they had brought in. So did that mean Daniel was a ghost? What were the implications of his death then? And when had it happened…?

 His true lucky break came when he was taking over from the principal, and thus was not teaching his classes for the day. He was in the back staff storage closet, a small tight area with notebooks, chalk, and markers in a narrow L shape. He was simply taking inventory, a dreaded procedure that he had little doubt was left to him purposefully for when Iroshima had to attend the meeting with the school board.

 Regardless he was in the furthest section from the door around the tight corner when he heard it. The door opened and in stumbled Daniel Fenton. The teen heaved a sigh of relief, and just as he was about to reprimand Daniel for such delinquent behaviour, it happened.

 The truth, the piece he had been theorizing and grasping at, laid out before him.

 A bolt of light erupted from the teen’s waist in a hoop of iridescent stardust. It shone and glowed brightly as though someone had suddenly turned on a sun lamp. The ring split and diverged up and down, travelling quickly across the boy’s body in a ripple of power. As the rings passed the human guise of the teen it revealed a familiar jumpsuit, and even more familiar ghost beneath...

 He could only watch bewildered as Phantom, no, Daniel took flight and headed off through the ceiling of the closet. He had been right? He had been right! Oh lord, he had been right…

 Being right had never felt more wrong…

 This teenager, this child… he truly dd carry the world on his shoulders, or at least the town. The boy who would sometimes limp to class and ignore his lectures on doing his homework to secure a relatively well off future, or at least a decent college acceptance… He had always looked as though nothing he said mattered, and well, he supposed given what he knows now that’s not far from the truth.

 Why would a child who was already dead, passed on and returned, care about his future as a human? Why would it ever be something that Daniel would take seriously when he literally had no future on this earth?

 Though it still begged the question why was he still bothering with school at all? Wouldn’t it be better to live as a ghost? He could patrol, fight and, well, do whatever it is that ghosts do in their spare time, all without the worry of his human habits and responsibilities getting in the way of his clearly favoured ghostly ones.

 Though the more he thought on it the more he realized that this new line of questioning was not as complicated as he was tempted to make it out to be. Daniel had died and was a teen who never got to grow up. Perhaps that was all he was trying to do?

 Despite the limitations on his body, or perhaps lack thereof, he wanted to still be a teen. He wanted to spend time with his family and friends and experience the life that had been taken from him.

 He was given the chance to allow him such simple mercies after all. It would make sense he would take it.

 From that standpoint suddenly Phantom’s aggression and heroism took on a much sadder note. One of a teen that simply wanted the others of his breed to leave him be so he may fulfill whatever obsession is keeping him grounded here, experiencing life.

 And perhaps that’s what all the ghosts really wanted. From the Box Ghost to the King of the realm of the dead. Perhaps that’s what connected them all? To live out the rest of the life that had gotten taken from them from whatever it was that took it. Be it a fire disease injury or… whatever had taken Daniel.

 Wiliam appreciated the new standpoint and views he had gained. He was a teacher after all, and part of that was due to the love of learning he had that thrived in his very soul. It did make him wonder though. If he were to be struck down, would he have the strength of will to continue? To push past his own death to try and regain some semblance of what was taken from him?

 Somehow he doubted it.

 Yet at the same time, he was alright with that notion. He was making a difference here and now and planned to for many years to come. Though for right now he would do his best to help the ghost boy in his homeroom class to live out his purpose. A makeup test here, extra credit there, and with any luck, the ghost would be able to graduate and live out the life he had lost.

 After all, William Lancer was a teacher at heart, a mentor.

 He was happy that he could just play a bit part in the background of the stories his students were living. A small thread in the tapestry that weaved their lives.

 What more could a teacher ask for then to see his students succeed? After all, even dead teenagers seem to need help time and again.

   -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 Complete

 Total word count: 3301