#i dunno how you like doing that stuff yellow it was so annoying to figure out (っ- ‸ - ς)

[kittycatred]

Hey Red! I saw you figured out custom colors/gradients on Tumblr! Good job! Proud of you, buddy! -Yellow(@yello-exe)

yellow CODING IS HARD i dunno how you do it "( – ⌓ – )

i spent SO LONG trying to figure it out, i need to bail you out so i can just make you do it for me next time (╥﹏╥)

[guqin-and-flute]

WIP...Thriday (aka proof I'm not dead and still writing)

An And A-Fu Makes 4 Chpt. 7 exerpt in which A-Fu and Wangji are equally bemused by each other

__

It turned out that his uncle was actually pretty funny. Not totally, like, ‘haha’ funny, but ‘different from what A-Fu was used to’ funny.  A-Fu had always thought that his face was blank most of the time, but he found out that wasn't true--he smiled and frowned and looked worried and annoyed just like everyone else. His expressions were just super tiny compared to other people, so you had to study his face as hard as school, but A-Fu was getting the hang of it. If he didn’t get something, A-Yuan could usually interperate for him pretty good, ‘cause he was an expert Hanguang-jun interperatator. He knew what all the different tones of ‘A-Yuan’ meant when apparently it was supposed to be a whole sentence that meant ‘time for bed' or ‘too loud’ or ‘not that way’ or ‘did you finish your homework?’ or ‘do you want to play guqin with me?’

Uncle Wangji sorta reminded A-Fu of Gray-Father and how sometimes he looked so serious and scary to other people, but you just had to know what they meant to say on the inside. Except unlike Gray-Father, Uncle Wangji had never laughed in front of A-Fu; but when he and A-Yuan did something silly together, he sometimes had a little bit of Laughing Eyes, just like Blue-Father did. Maybe A-Fu was a gray, blue, and yellow father interperatator? Maybe after staying at the Jingshi, he could become an Uncle Wangji one, too! 

Sometimes his uncle was ‘haha’ funny, usually by accident and usually because he didn’t really get A-Fu--a lot of the things he did seemed to confuse him; like how he liked mud and salamanders and toads, and how he hated wearing socks to bed, and how he got an idea to do things but then didn’t really think about how it might end up and then he fell over or broke something, sometimes. Then, Uncle Wangji would get a little wrinkle, right in between his eyebrows, like he was trying to figure out a hard math problem and his mouth would get all small and he would blink reaaaal slow. Sometimes, he even looked over at A-Yuan like he needed his help as an A-Fu Interpretator--which he kinda was, since he was A-Fu’s bestest friend in the whole entire world and knew him better than anyone.  

Uncle Wangji definitely didn’t get Sneaking-and-Snooping, and when A-Fu actually really did surprise him a couple times, his uncle said all serious that he knew A-Fu was there, he just didn’t expect him to jump out and yell at him and A-Fu said uh-huh sure he did, suuure, and Uncle Wangji would just coolly say ‘good’ that A-Fu was sure--but he would say it like he knew that A-Fu was being sarcasms and was agreeing just to make him annoyed, which it did ‘cause that’s not how sarcasms worked, Uncle Wangji! And his uncle would say, without any hint of a smile, that he would try to remember that, which A-Fu figured was sort of like a joke and it made him laugh. 

One day, when A-Fu got in trouble with his teacher because he had colored his whole tongue black with his paintbrush during class just because, he had been really anxious about when his uncle came to pick them up from school. After talking to the teacher for a bit at the desk, he came over and stood all tall in front of A-Fu. When he looked all the way up at him, he  saw that scrunchy-confused wrinkle on his face but all he said was, “...Why?”

“Uh. I dunno.”

“....” Uncle Wangji said things with his silences best of anyone A-Fu knew, and this silence was like a whole bunch of question marks, like A-Fu was some sort of mystery. When he looked over at A-Yuan, who was waiting patiently by the door with his stuff all packed up, A-Yuan just shook his head and shrugged. 

 Uncle Wangji just looked back at him for another second, then just turned and walked right out the door, hand behind his back, not even waiting.

A-Fu assumed that that meant something like ‘let’s go home, you’re not in trouble, but what the heck’, so he just happily trotted out after him into the sunshine with A-Yuan next to him. He must have been getting better at understanding his uncle’s silences, because all that happened when they got back to the Jingshi was that he was handed a cool, damp cloth from the fancy wash basin in the corner and told, “Do not eat paint.”

He tried to explain around sticking out his tongue and scrubbing, “I wa’n’t ea’ing i’, I wath theeing if I coul’ color i’ all in,” but Uncle Wangji didn’t say anything else about it and just sat down at his table play his guqin.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Léon Spilliaert, Faun by Midnight (1900).

[Guillaume Gris]

* * * *

A truly fascinating story for our times. Think about "“Men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, one by one.”  I came of age in the era of protests in the 60s and 70s.  As a young woman, it was all completely absorbing, and also overwhelming.  All of my subsequent life choices were influenced by the culture of protest, consciousness raising, search for meaning and spiritual understanding that I was immersed in during those years. I have hope for the future as I watch this generation take on these weighty burdens and learn and digest.

+

“I've been contemplating posting this for the past few days. It's an illustrative story on how a protest can escalate faster than anyone can control. If you're sitting at home stunned at the response of the demonstrators, and why "don't they simply comply" or shocked at the violent response of the riot police indiscriminately beating, blinding, and shelling protestors and press alike, I have a tale to tell you about how s**t can go south in a big hurry. 

It was the early oughts, and I was a senior paramedic in the most "granola" district imaginable. Everyone there was groovy and green and all namasté and stuff. My partner and I were asked to do a special standby for a Sheriff Department drill, which was no biggie, we thought; it's something that we did on a relatively regular basis. This one was going to be different. By the end of this drill, I was in a seething rage and my partner was so upset and angry she was on the verge of tears.

You see, the county in which I worked had a large number of university students which had a very annoying history of rioting, setting fires, and destroying property after every big sportsball event, which led to repeated, awkwardly problematic interactions with law enforcement which netted both sides with negative press coverage. 

So, the Sheriff's Dept decided to train their riot squad one night out at the county fairgrounds. A demonstration--even a practice one--needs protesters, so the county asked for volunteers. The volunteers that responded were the wholesome cream of the county population: Boy Scouts, AARP members, librarians (yes, librarians), book club members, and I think the local Rotary Club. With the exception of the Boy Scouts, most of the volunteers were old enough to have participated in the social upheavals of the late 60's, so they might have had prior experience, I dunno. For this event, there was no press coverage. Looking back, I wish there was. It would have been enlightening. 

We all gathered in the main hall of the fairgrounds, which I remember still smelled like truck exhaust and livestock, and the drill coordinators gathered up law enforcement and volunteers and laid out the ground rules for the night's exercise. There was to be no physical violence. No takedowns. No teargas or pepper spray. The goal of the exercise was to train the riot squad how to move as a unit and coordinate an effective response to rowdy demonstrators. The volunteer protesters were told to shout and mill about. 

Meanwhile, there were the observers, which included senior political and public safety officials from the county, and two paramedics with an ambulance...and that would be my partner and I, you see. We had a designated spot to stand and watch from a low loading dock, and I think we even had yellow armbands. Both the "protesters" and the riot squad were clearly and repeatedly told that the loading docks were out-of-bounds. 

So, in the dark shadows and glaring lights of the fairgrounds, the lead coordinator blew a whistle. There was laughter at first as the volunteers figured out on the fly how to be protesters, and they started rhythmic chanting and fist pumping. The volume and emphatic shouting built rapidly as the volunteers found their collective voice and tribal unity. The elder volunteers concentrated on the cadences and rhythms and standing firm shoulder to shoulder, and the Boy Scouts were overcome with adrenaline, running back and forth and shouting.

That's about when my partner and I spotted the trainer in the dog-bite suit in the middle of the crowd.At this point, the riot squad in full tactical gear emerged at a brisk jog from the alley between the event hall and the stables. They were in step, and the only sound was the clattering of boots, shields, and armor. They faced off in a tight line against the volunteers, and the resulting antagonistic energy riled up the volunteers to the point where the shouting turned to screaming with cracked voices. The riot squad began to bash their shields with their long batons in a rhythm and began single-stepping to the rhythm. It was very martial and Spartan, and the kindly senior citizens and Boy Scouts responded in kind. 

That was when someone found the 55-gallon drums full of old soda cans and bottles, and scattered piles of rocks that were cleaned out of the riding arenas. Stuff started flying out of the darkness towards the line of sheriff deputies. The formation charged full speed into the crowd of volunteers and it instantly devolved into a goddamned battle. The police were bashing with shields and swinging batons while the protesters (no longer law-abiding volunteers) fought back.  

The dog was unleashed and it charged into the crowd eliciting howls of fear, pain, and panic. The noise was deafening, and in the space of five minutes, it looked like the Battle of Thermopylae. Reports reached us of injuries, but we couldn't leave our spot. Two (felt like twenty?) riot police charged out of the darkness at my partner and I, screaming orders to comply and pushing us with shields. As their batons were raised to start beating us, my repeated shouts of "We're observers! We're observers!" and slapping my yellow armband took an eternity to filter through the deputies' adrenaline haze, and our small group of riot squad and  paramedics froze in a tableau under the feeble loading dock light, us cowering against the wall, trapped between the building and fully-armored deputies with batons raised. 

In reality, it only took mere seconds before the duo ran back towards the main conflict, but in my brain it took forever. The battle was rapidly becoming dangerous, to the point where pepper spray was starting to come out and the dog was getting frenzied. The spray wasn't used, but at that point, the coordinators recognized the danger. 

It took a few minutes of whistles and air horns to get everyone to stop, and by the time it was over, emotions were still explosive.The debrief in the main fairgrounds exhibition hall was full of tears of anger and shouting from both sides as the coordinators begged for calm. Each side accused the other of escalating the conflict beyond control. The librarians were *pissed*, some of the senior citizens were still weeping in outrage, and the Boy Scouts were shivering in stunned silence.  My partner and I treated the minor injuries: bruises, cuts, abrasions, but we couldn't treat the shell-shocked expressions and tears.

As the coordinators got the debrief under control, they asked the observers for their, well, observations. My partner and I were still incensed, and we curtly pointed out that the riot squad broke the rules and charged us. The group that charged us shrugged and simply said, "You were there. Fair game." I thought my partner was going to come unglued. She opened her mouth to shout back, but caught her breath and remained silent.

The general consensus from the observers was that things devolved into chaos on both sides, and it happened so rapidly that there was never a chance to de-escalate either the law enforcement or the demonstrators. Adrenaline ruled the night, and the cream of county society got to experience first-hand the atavistic mayhem and overwhelming panic of a full-on demonstration being met with aggressive force.

There weren't supposed to be rocks and bottles. There were. There wasn't supposed to be injuries, there were. Observers and medical standby were supposed to be off-limits. We weren't. It was a fascinating and stark example of human emotions run amok.

It was started off as a voluntary community partnership to assist law enforcement in learning how to deal successfully with protests. It became an actual conflict. There was no instigating factor such as a sports team winning or an innocent life lost. This was a practice drill that became violent all on its own and became a self-contained riot.

So, today I watch the videos and press footage of the police and the protestors, and I feel that surge of sympathetic nervous system of unpleasant alertness, anger, and tenseness even after all these years. With politicians calling for full military intervention with "no quarter given"; with anarchists, Black Bloc, and boogaloo bois infiltrating legitimate protests; there's no f'ing chance for de-escalation, and with leadership belittling anyone who tries reconciliation, we're in for a rough ride. 

l remember how fast it went to hell on a warm summer night during a small-scale, planned practice session at the county fairgrounds with deputies that I knew and respected, and the kind, wholesome citizens that on any other night would be doing good deeds, reading books, and helping their community.

At our little Donnybrook almost two decades ago, nobody died and nobody needed emergency treatment. But within the space of an hour, community trust in law enforcement was grievously damaged, and the deputies that night viewed every citizen as a potential threat to be subdued and neutralized.

At the next real sportsball riot, we were on standby in an alley a couple of blocks away, and I wondered if it would get ugly, remembering that drill that went sideways. Out on the street, before things got out of control, a very small unit of the riot team swept in, determined the instigators and agitators, grabbed them, and just like that, the riot was done. No gas, no rubber ball grenades, no fires. A lesson was learned.

Meanwhile, out behind the command center, two police officers and I shone our flashlights as we stood and watched the antics of two raccoons trying to raid a dumpster.”

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

Edits for clarification: 1) The German Shepherd dog only attacked the guy in the big red suit...but it was scary to see an amped-up dog charging at the crowd.2) I think some of the volunteers were cheerleaders from the local high school. It was a bleak teaching moment for them. 3) There was a brief discussion of actually arresting some of the volunteers, which was rapidly squelched.4) As I recall, the librarians were the "protest" leaders, and the Scouts were the object throwers. Things got a little hazy.5) The raccoons got trapped in the dumpster, and we had to open the lid and free them.

[Joe Bly]

[hiatus-for-forever]

Katsuki hited by a quirk that makes his skine change color depending on who he is talking to, example: yellow for when he's with someone he (deep down) consider as a freind (even if he doesn't admit it yet like with the bakusquad) and pink with his crush, but his crush on his fem bestfreind (reader) is a secret he keept from everyone until now. Thank youuu!

 Summary: ^

A/N: sorry for doing this late, I haven’t been active. I changed some things so sorry.

Quirk: Not specified

Warnings/Genre: Fluff, cursing, slight plot change (they don’t live in dorms),  implied smut

WC: 1,188

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

You sighed boredly in your seat waiting for your friends. No one really approached you as you were part of the Bakusquad and you hung around them most of the time. They were the most interesting people you met and you got close to them when you started hanging out with Bakugou. 

You took the fact that you were close to Bakugou pridefully and the friendship between you two grew. Sounds cheesy, you knew it did, but it was true. You were the one he willingly talked to the most and Kirishima saw you as manly because of that. 

Before you could continue to think of Bakugou, the classroom door slid open to reveal your chaotic group of friends. A smile grew on your face as they settled in and made a beeline to your desk. They greeted you then their eyes traveled to the empty seat beside you. 

“Where’s Bakugou?” Mina questioned

You glanced at his chair and shrugged, “He’s late I guess” 

Kaminari shook his head, “No, he’s never late. (Nickname), call him”

Your face turned red, “Huh? Why?”

They smirked but Kirishima played it off, “What? We all know you’re the only one he picks the phone up for” he reasoned

You rolled your eyes and muttered a ‘fine’ and you grabbed your phone. You scrolled though your contacts, clicking on ‘Katsuki💥🧡’. The group beside you gave each other sly smirks as you waited for Bakugou to pick up.

“What?” he snapped as he picked up the phone. You chuckled at the cold facade he put up and he figured that the others would be with you. 

“Where are you?” you asked

“I’m not going to school”

Your eyes widened, “What? Why? What happened” you turned to them and rushed, “He’s skipping” and put the phone back to your ear as you ignored their questions.

He exhaled sharply, “Shut up nothing’s wrong” he yelled into the phone, “it’s just- I got hit by a dumbass quirk and i might get humiliated if I go there”

You sighed, “He’s fine” you said and pulled the phone back, “So, what did the quirk do?”

“I dunno”

“What?”

“What?”

“It did nothing?”

“It did something, I just don’t know what”

You sighed, “Just come to school and we’ll figure it out”

“No” he huffed, “Didn’t you hear what I said-”

“I heard you. But if it isn’t doing anything bad, it’s not worth missing a day of school”

You heard him sigh, “Ugh fine” and he hung up. You smiled and explained to the group that he was coming to school. You and the group chatted the time away, pondering about what the quirk he was hit was.

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

He stormed in, just before class started, and plopped on the seat next to you. You smiled at him as he placed his stuff on their respective places. Aizawa walked in and began class.

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

It was lunch when you finally had a chance to talk to him. The group walked to you two as you got ready to walk to the cafeteria with him. “So you don’t look like anything changed.” He looked at you with a surprisingly calm look until it turned to a scowl at the sight of the rest of the group. 

“I guess, but tell me if anything changes or else you’ll be fucking dead if you embarrass me” he paused, seeing your wide eyes. “What?” he asked, the rest of his friends looking at him with the same expression. You eyed him up and down, a pink hue covered all his skin, from his cheeks to his neck to his hands and everywhere you could see. 

“Um.....” you started

“Um what!?” 

“You’re pink” you stated

“WHAT!?” he yelled, looking at his hands, pulling his sleeves to examine his arms. He looked as shocked as you guys did. 

You spoke up first, “I assume this is what the quirk did” you said, feeling as though this was familiar. 

“The fuck!?”

“Say, Katsuki, did you happen to see who struck this quirk on you?”

“Some dude, stupid hair, stupid face, he had spots on his skin” he said. You pulled your phone out. “What’re you doing?” Kaminari asked

You clicked the contact ‘Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈’ and texted him.

You

Hey did you use your quirk on an angry blonde this morning?

Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈

Yeah why? He startled me

You

It makes the skin turn colors right?

Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈

Yeah

Lemme guess. He’s your friend and u want me to send a list what the colors mean

You

Duh

Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈

Red- talking to someone he hates Orange- he’s mad/annoyed at Yellow- enjoys being with Green- is jealous of Blue- looks down on Violet- admires Pink- likes romantically

You

Thanks!! U deserve an uwu

Bitchwhowontcall🏳‍🌈

Just an uwu u suck

You 

lol k

You put the phone down and slipped it in your bag. “So what does it say? Why is he turning into other colors?” Ashido asked excitedly, “Is he trying to match me?” she said, pressing her arm to his, showing the similar color.

You laughed, “No, his skin will just change random colors whenever he talks to someone” you lied smoothly. You knew now how he felt about you and you couldn’t be happier. You grinned at the thought, having no time to blush due to your happiness and cockiness that washed over you.  

The group nodded as you all headed out for lunch, having fun watching Bakugou turn yellow talking with Kirishima, orange with Midoriya and Todoroki, and even go back to normal when he has to interact with those who mean nothing to him, aka the ‘extras’.

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

The day ended and you part ways with the group to walk home with Bakugou. You walked in comfortable silence as the sun set. You carefully reached for Bakugou’s hand. He looked at you with a red face and you looked away, both your faces covered with a dark blush. He reluctantly allowed you to lace your fingers with his and scoot closer to him. You were eventually walking while latched to his arm, both of you not saying a word to each other. 

You both stopped walking when you had to part ways. You smirked and kissed him on the cheek, “I like you too, Katsuki” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he yelled, turning red. You giggled and showed him the texts, also one added in the middle of classes saying it will only last until midnight. He turned red- well no, pink. As he continued, “Why didn’t you say anything dumbass!?”

You grinned, “Well, it’s cute seeing you pink while talking to me. And now I know you like me back”

He scoffed and pulled you to him, he grabbed your collar and smashed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened, taking a moment seeing the wrinkles on his forehead go away. Once he relaxed and stopped frowning, you did too. Your eyes closed and you held onto his forearms. After he hesitantly pulled away, you looked at him, panting.

“We’re dating now, you’re my girlfriend”

“At least take me on a date first” you pouted as he pulled you to continue walking to his house.

“Next time, for now let’s consummate the marriage” he said lowly. Your face burned as you let him continue dragging you to his house.

[popculturebuffet]

Green Eggs and Ham: “Train” Review or A Little Better Now (Patreon Review for Emma Fici)

Hello you happy people and all aboard! We’re back on the Green Eggs and Ham Train for a Train themed episode. Train. As you can tell I like trains... admitely I don’t see enough episodes et on them and I don’t buy books or obess on them but I like the idea of a train, the comfort, the use of a mode of travel that was once common but is now simply used on occasion with the dawn of air travel, and it confining our heroes to a smaller space with limited room to move. it’s good stuff. I even tolerae the band train... I mean yes their music is okay at best, but the lyrics.. are wonderfully delightfully insane. Who else would use a garbage bag as a genuine romantic metaphor?

When last we left off things ere a bit ehhhhhhhhhhh: Sam went from delightfully quirky with some issues ot adress to annoying, and Michelle went from kin dof a bitch ot ENTIRELY THAT BITCH. Outside of Guy’s mental breakdown/heatstroke episode involving hallucinations of green eggs and ham, yes that did in fact happen, it wasn’t much to write home about and I worried the series simply had a good PILOT but the series itself wasn’t going to be fun sit through. 

If I was right or I was rilla.. will have to wait till after the cut. But first as always i’d like to thank the person who payed for this episode Emma Fici. Emma is one of my closest friends and one of two patreon patreons. If you’d like a reivew of your choice eveyr month guarnateed, then please hop over to patreon.com/popculturebuffet and back me at the 5 dollar level. You also get access to my exclusive discord where I ocasoinally post about work in progress stuff and tlak to my falns, to pick a short any time I do one and EXCLUSIVE review, as well as helping me hit my stretch goals. So line up, sign up then join me under the cut. 

So we pick up where we left off with Guy hurtling into a lake. Eh I dunno i’ve heard being naked ina  lake is pretty neat. 

All you’d have to do is take off the hat and your there. But Sam saves him wiht the weird train of hats he put at the end of the car for some reason, and our heroes are saved.. but down a vehicle. Oh and Sam’s vehiclular neglgence costs a bunch of fish their home.

And our heroes are without a car and Guys at the end of his rope with Sam.. I mean granted he’s been there since he met the guy but it’s down to like the tiniest thred, not helped by Sam casually stealing his wallet to pay for train tickets depsite Guy , UNDERSTANDABLY, not wanting to hang out with the guy who has stolen with him, gotten him implicate din animal trafficing and dosen’t really respect personal space. Also it’s taken me embarassingly long to remember Micheal Douglas played my boy Hank Pym in the Ant Man and the Wasp films. Seroiusly I don’t know HOW I forgot that, him being aged up and thus unable to do ANY of the things he is constnatly denied credit for in canon (Founding the avengers, being the first ant man.. and the first goliath and the first yellow jacket and the first giant man.. and the only doctor pym...).. but instead the film kept his troubled nature and ego, but removed the domestic abuse (which is something I will not go into but needless to say the comics version went above and beyond to try and make up for that and redeem himself soley because it was the right hting to do) and by making im older still gav ehim a roll as Scott’s mentor. What i’m getting at is I freaking love Hank Pym and I could’ve been making hank pym jokes for several episdoes now. That’s a mistake I itned to recitfy.. right away as Guy looses his suitcase as a result of it and whie he lcaims not to be bothered his voice says otherwise. Eh i’m sure the world can wait for ultron Guy. 

So anyway, Guy reluctantly agrees to the train travel idea and being parked across from Sam on the grounds he has no real other options. Meanwhile the BAD GUYZ.. and i’ve also decided to drop spoilers as the series is two years old, most people reading this have probably seen the series, and it makes analysis rough when I have to dance around spoilers. So yeah the BAD GUYZ aren’t villians.. kind of a dickhead on the blue guys part, but not EVIL. They figure out their going by train it’s a whole thing.

ON the train we run into michelle again...

Yeahhh for the first half she’s as inusfferable as she was the last two episodes and it lead me to believie the rest of the series was going to be constant suffering as she’d be in every episode, likely because they DID get Diane Keaton for this and you don’t waste Diane Keaton. You just don’t. But while they got their money’s worth in having her on screne wise they just..w asted her for the first 2 and a half episodes: Michelle is a judgemental, unpleasnt suffocating bitch and it’s going to take a lot , even if this episode helped, to make me truly like her as a person. 

Case in point her first two scenes this episode are just.. dragging her daughter past a play place uncarring about her feelings because while I DO get she cares about her child’s saftey and is terrified afte rloosing her husband.. it dosen’t EXCUSE her actions. It dosen’t forgive her locking her daughter up constanlty, not talking to her like a human being and oh yeah PUTTING A FUCKING LOCK ON HER SHE CAN CONTROL.  I mean my god I don’t think they INTENDED for her to come off as abusive as she does, and i’ve seen far worse inteitonally and untietionally, but it’s still not remotely plesant. There is a larger issue baked into that the episode brings about, but we’ll get to that. 

And naturally at breakfast.. she procedes to top herself. ONCE AGAIN she treats guy like trash as guy UNDERSTANDABLY didn’t want to talk to her after her previous layers of bullshit which, just as a refresher, involved insulting his invention constnatly (even if it turned out ot be dangerous she did not know that till the last second) then refusing to help a man BAKING in the desert and mocking him to his face. 

So yeah unsuprisingly instead of you know, APOLOGIZING for that episode or anything else she mocks him again and calls him sad. I just.. I get they were trying to have her come off as a jerk and then slowly develop.. but you can’t overdue the jerk part. It has to be juts the right amount and if it is this much there has to be a commpuance. There is none as far as I can tell because god is a spiteful two faced prick. 

So naturally Sam forces the two parties together, and orders green eggs and ham for everyone, except guy who refuses. We do get a really great bit though as EB turns down the idea and we get a tremendous rant from Micheal Douglas as he talks about how a girl in his clash, veyr likely just him, got a rash from tring new things and you shouldn’t and to watch out for the scarlet beetle he’ll steel your ants and try to conquer your planet and is not a guy in a costume but in fact an actual beetle. EB naturally tries it. 

We get a brief interlude with Snerz that’s funny enough: he outright calls his visotrs flunkies, they enter to the song money, and his minon throws dollar bills at their feet. I imagine this is what visitng Mar a Largo is like. They turn up his noses until he mentions getting a chickarffe for his animal crutelty wall. And i’m torn about Snerz. On one hand he can be generally entertaining in his dickery.. but ont he other I do question why he’s in EVERY episode. We don’t NEED him in eveyr one and I feel he’s only in them because Eddie Izzard was expensive so they had to get him as a regular to justify the cost. We really DONT’ need this scene funny as it is and it adds nothing so far. Maybe i’m wrong and these guys end up being important. I don’t know. 

So yeah so far this episode was miserable getting through and I expected it to be another long sit... I was wrong. The second half.. is really damn good and reminded me why I liked this series so much. No really. We get two stories,both really good following one half of each pair teaming up. As for why their split Guy is annoyed with Sam, as well as dosen’t want him letting the chickaraffe out because you know lots of people dosen’t want ot go to jail and leaves to find a quiet place to work on watching paint dry while Michelle tucks a sleeping EB in, her first really truly humanizing moment, which should NOT have taken three episodes but hey, i’ll take it, and goes to find the same.

So starting with Sam and EB, naturally Sam takes all of a minute to let his buddy out and it gets loose on top of the train. EB hears the familiar sound and gives chase and the two meet properly. After Sam covers for his buddy and realizes the creature is asleep in his car safe now, he properly talks to EB and we get a truly magical sequnece: The two talk with Sam whoelheartdly supporting her free spirit and finally giving the girl what she badly needed: someone who treated her not as something to be tied down but you know.. a child who just wants some expression and as she literally lets her hair down, It’s truly adorable and it just has a magical quanitity as they enjoy the beautiful view from the train top. 

Granted this takes at urn later when EB brings up her mom, and Sam.. supports her mom, pointing out she’s just looking out for her.. which she is but in a deeply unehalthy way and I don’t like the show just.. brushing over Michelle’s terrible actions because “she’s her mom”. But it’s also hard to tell if they are: Sam’s mom left him as we’ll find out, so he likely colors his memories of her rosey and simply envys EB still HAVING hers. It’s not BAD stuff but I don’t like a work saying “You should love your family just beacause your related”. Instead of because they lovea nd support you and if they dont’ love you or treat you remotely well or don’t give an ass about you fuck them. Thankfully I DO love my family and have no issues with them, my immediate family at least, but i’ve had friens with downright abusive or neglectful parents. It’s not that black and white. Ducktales also hammered in the family theme but was transparent in how it can me messy, harm each other and that it took true love and consideratoin for it to work at it’s core. 

It’s still not a terrible scene and what comes next is neat as earlier it was shown the train has loops, because Seussworld, and now that’s a problem because their on top of it. Michelle’s jail braclet thing ends up coming in handy the first loop, as while she can’t unstick it means she and sam can suririvie it. They do get it loose, turns out the password was indeed password, because of course, and they end up narrowly suriving a roller coaster bit of track, with the help of MR. Jenkins who I can finally name because EB names her in the next scene. Understanding her need for a pet, Sam deputizes her, and gets her back in bed in time for the next plot. 

Speaking of which winding back a bit as these two go back and forth, Guy goes through two rather hilarious cars: First a bath car that has a bubsby berkely style water number and then a model train car.. with the train on the track showing guy watching guy watchin gthe train etc. 

It’s great. Guy ends up finding the quiet car.. and Michelle. And in her first scene of acting like a human being and not if julie powers was a soccer mom, Michelle, while standosfish as usual, not only unites with guy to shush a loud guy in the car, but is genuinely apricative when Guy helps her get her place back, she was doing some literal bean counting. 

The two genuinely hit it off, first with some adorable silent bits and then by talking, with Michelle appreciating his now safer job and warming up to him. Keaton and Douglas have GENUINE chemestry and it annoys me itt took the series this long to use that instead of wasting Diane Keaton on being 

It’s really great stuff and i’m actually rooting for the two.. once she gets her shit together obviously. Guy does make the mistake of lying abotu knowing about the chikcaraffe.

This ends up being bad as he finds out EB knows the next day and after she leaves the car RIGHTFULLY tears the fuck into same for getting him accused of crime, stealing from him and now puttin ghim in a precarious situation. While Guy DID lie, he idd so well meaningly and trying to impress someone whose ineherntly judgmeental. Douglas also does REALY well in the scene, calling sam out but it dosen’t feel cruel.. it’s justified. While guy is miserable and does need to work on himself.. Sam also needs to work on himself and is putting guy in serious danger just by forcing him into his animal smuggling scheme. 

So Guy leaves.. and naturally given the unvierse hate shim runs into the BAD GUYZ, who aren’t much better. No really they refuse to belieive guy might be innocent, use excessive force on everyone. They have better GOALS than sam but I woudln’t really call them good people. Smash to black and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts:  This one was better. As I said the first half or rather third drags slightly but once we get to the two seperate plotlines it’s REALLY damn good stuff and reminded me what the series was capable of in character in creativity. Hopefully it keeps this up

Next Time on the Blog: We return to mewni for the penultimate chapter of season 3 as Moon and Eclipsa have some fundemtnal disgareemnts on how to handle Meteora that wind up costing both dearly. 

See you at the next rainbow

[spaced0lphin]

TBMS Deleted Scene

This scene was originally written for the as-yet unreleased Chapter 10, and is part of the little Citadel date thing. Whilst I love this interaction, I felt like it took away from the intention of the date which is meant to be a moment of respite or calm before a lot of intense action stuff and some emotional turmoil as well. This interaction goes some very interesting places, but it also ends up creating a dark atmosphere that sort of overshadows everything else. In every extrapolation I could think of from this point forward, Bailie would want to be alone to process this for some time to think really hard on this, and that’s not what I’m going for right now. For context, this scene comes a little after a conversation in which Shepard discusses that whatever's going on between them has to be Joker's call, and not hers, for reasons that should be somewhat obvious.

“Is there anything to see around here?” she asked, giving her leg a tentative stretch.

“I dunno, but let’s go find out. I mean, if we don’t find out within the next five hundred yards, we’ll probably both die, but we can at least say we tried.” He stood up, and a flash of bemusement crossed his features before he took her hand to help her to her feet. “Heh. I guess it’s the lame leading the lame.”

She put the crutches under her arms. For once, it was Joker who was waiting up on her. In the time since getting the cast she had figured out a good technique, and was soon keeping up. It felt good to move. She missed doing push ups before her morning shower, making unnecessary trips all around the decks without thinking about it. Hell, she missed just walking briskly, but as the days went by it was easier, she had to admit.

“I think this will come off soon, and I’ll get that brace.”

“Upgrade. Just, when you do, don’t pull a me and immediately put yourself back in crutches because getting to walk was so great. I did that twice.”

 Perhaps it was her imagination, but he really did seem to be walking just a little straighter. Joker always had this odd shamble to his gait that came from the way he tried to minimise the time he spent on just one foot during each step. He held his right shoulder up as a kind of counterweight to what she assumed was some kind of reduction in control of his left leg, but his posture looked more even as of late. He checked over his shoulder to make sure she was still following along.

“You’ll never guess who I’ve just seen up ahead,” he said, and nodded towards a quaint little shop front with a yellow awning. Grunt’s hulking shape sat at a wrought iron table, his bulk making it look miniscule. Even at this distance she could see his grin as he spread butter on a tiny round thing - a tea cake, she surmised. He looked up and saw them, and Shepard felt herself laugh softly as Grunt looked about, conflicted. She watched the gears turning in his head. Stay hidden? Or tea cake? 

“What’s with him?” asked Joker. 

“Oh. He was a little worried about me going off the ship, so I told him he could come along if he just stayed out of sight.”

“Krogan chaperone, huh? Let's go annoy him. He won’t headbutt me if you’re here.”

“You’re the boss,” she said, and turned up the little side street that headed up to the door. 

The smile he gave her was halfway between a smirk and something rather salacious. “Yeah, you’re right. I am.”

“I’ve created a monster,” she said under her breath, just loud enough for him to catch.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said as he pulled the door open and held it for her. 

She met his eyes as she passed through. “I had no idea you were such a shameless flirt, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m a man of many talents. Shameless and otherwise,” he said, and tapped on the bill of his cap.

“Perhaps I’ll be the judge of that,” she said coolly. Her comment had the intended effect, it seemed, as he cleared his throat and looked away from her toward the menu at the far wall. She continued on past tables full of patrons. She ignored the familiar, yet unpleasant sensation of eyeballs tracking her as she moved. I’ll never get used to being a public figure, really, she thought as she approached Grunt’s little table. These people don’t seem to recognise who I am though, which is good… News about that won’t be widespread yet. I think they’re just looking at the crutches.

“Hey Grunt,” she said and pulled up a chair. “How’s the tea cakes?”

“Good with jam,” he said, closing his eyes as he nodded towards three empty jars to the side. “I like tea. Dr Chakwas said I should try some. I understand it now.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “You smell different.”

“Uh,” Shepard replied with a bemused chuckle. “I do?”

“Hmm,” said Grunt as he picked up another cake. “Less adrenaline. Not as sharp. Did you get bored of being alone with Joker? Is that why you’re here?”

“No,” she said and smiled. “The opposite. I’m relaxed, I think.”

“You think?” Grunt echoed. She had to laugh as he picked up a teacup, dwarfed in his huge three-fingered hand. The loud crash of a serving tray falling to the floor caught their attention, and Shepard looked up to see an asari behind the counter staring directly at her. At the counter, Joker looked from her to Shepard and back, then said something she couldn’t hear. The asari looked livid. Her whole body tensed as she strode out from behind the counter with a purposeful look in her eyes.

“Huh,” said Grunt. “You smell normal again.”

 “I’ll serve these two, but you need to leave,” she said through gritted teeth. Shepard blinked.

“I’m sorry, have I done something?”

“Your crew can eat here,” she said, straining to keep her voice down. “But not you, Commander. Not after what you did to my husband.”

“Your husband?” Shepard felt like she had whiplash and found herself shaking her head with confusion. “Ma’am, I’ll leave if you don’t want me here, but I’m not sure --”

“Dantius. Towers,” she hissed. “I’m not going to say how I got the footage, but I saw you.”

Shepard groped about for her crutches. She saw Joker cut in at the side of the asari, who hadn’t blinked the entire conversation, focussed with an uncomfortable intensity on her. She looked ready to throw a punch as Shepard stood up, but he took the initiative. Joker put himself between them. Shepard blinked in surprise at him.

“Not to worry Ma’am, we heard you and we’ll be leaving,” he said.

“Amazing,” she said as she watched Shepard put the crutches under her arms. “Maybe the Goddess does dispense some justice after all,” she said. “You push my husband out of a window, and you end up in crutches as payment.”

“Oh, I remember that guy,” said Grunt. “He wouldn’t tell us what we needed to know. He was a coward, and he died a coward’s death. You should find a new husband. He was unworthy of you.”

“Grunt!” said Shepard and Joker both in unison. The waitress was too stunned to speak.

“I overheard you,” Grunt said toward her. “You said he ran with them to get money to make this shop. A worthy mate would have stayed with you, here, and built this place with his bare hands if he had to.”

“Grunt,” said Joker. “We all remember that guy. Shut up. You’re not helping.”

The krogan’s mouth was open as if to speak, but he closed it and remained silent. He thumped his fists on the iron table before he got to his feet. The look on the woman’s face was hard to read. She flickered between fury, abject heartbreak, and shock.

“Ma’am,” Shepard said, clearing her throat. Joker pulled back, out of the way and she stood up straight, ignoring the pain tearing up her calf as she placed some of her weight down. “I can’t bring your husband back. I did what I felt I had to do. Your husband and I both chose our lives, and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Tears were brimming in the asari’s eyes which she blinked at last. “Yes, he was. I’m… I heard that a Justicar swore herself into your service. That is the only reason why I’m… I’m not doing something we’ll both regret right now.” People were beginning to look up from their tables as the widow daubed at her eyes. “I know you can’t really be evil, but I don’t want you here.”

Shepard let out a brief, sympathetic sigh. “I know that it isn’t worth very much coming from me, but I’m sorry for your loss. Thank you for your restraint here, today.” Without another word, she swung past, back out the door she had come. I wonder if I could have been so reserved, in her place? She took a moment to remember that split second decision at the towers that night. I was so focussed on my mission that I forgot I was dealing with a person. Something disturbing occurred to her. How often do I do that? She wondered. How often do I forget that they’re just… people?

 “Yeah, you can talk now, I didn’t mean shut up forever, just… Read the room a little.” Joker’s voice came from behind her.

“I know that. I was helping,” said Grunt.

“You weren’t,” he said. “Man. What are the odds?”

[quillium]

Stoncy Monsterhunters AU because I’m feeling soft

No, I don’t mean like canon monsterhunters. I mean like Buffy monsterhunters. I have never watched Buffy so I have no idea if this is actually ANYTHING like Buffy but like. What you THINK Buffy is when you’ve never watched it, that’s what this AU is.

So it’s a real campy type of thing, like, monster-of-the-week, y’know, super chill.

One time they’re hunting a vampire and he’s like threatening them and Nancy’s kinda like “I’d be into that” and Steve is like “ooh roleplay next time we have sex?” and Nancy’s like “YES” and Jonathan’s like “can we please focus on the guy who’s trying to kill us”

Nancy: “okay, fine, but we’re revisiting this kink”

Hmmm gonna say that it’s one of those monster-magic-world-is-secret type things y’know like Percy Jackson except if the mist wasn’t a thing. Once more, I’m imagining Buffy but I know literally nothing about it. I’m sorry except I’m not, y’all chose to follow me

GRAVITY FALLS. I AM THINKING GRAVITY FALLS. They live in the world of Gravity Falls. This is not a crossover I’m just trying to figure out world-building logistics

El’s like a WITCH or something it’s real neat but the kids are like a background type thing

Steve, at some point: “We’re fighting a ghost and I have a baseball bat.”

Nancy still has her gun. She tries to get special bullets--like silver bullets, iron, etc--and there’s a whole hilarious running joke where she’s like super competent at everything because she’s worked at like every part time job imaginable because she has to fund their monster-hunting somehow

At the end of the first fic, the government starts paying them to hunt certain monsters, and the second fic is basically a giant road trip with the three of them going around slaying the monster-of-the-week and having really vulnerable conversations--a huge focus of the second fic is Jonathan grappling with the fact that he’s leaving for college soon and that he’s left his family behind. A huge theme is trusting others to take care of themselves, and not having to carry the world on your shoulders

Jonathan doesn’t really have. Like. A weapon. He just kinda takes everything that isn’t “whack things weapon” or “gun related”. It’s a big assortment. Lotsa variety

I’m thinking a spinoff with young!Joyce Byers in the world of magic and eventually leaving it behind? Dunno how that’d work, though, hm...

There’s a running joke where the worst stuff always happens when Jonathan wears yellow

Steve learns to knit from a goddess in disguise as a hag and it’s weird but he’s really good at knitting so

Nancy and Jonathan do all the research. There’s at least one case where you have a hilarious cut back-and-forth type thing where Nancy and Jonathan are in this peaceful library, taking notes and cracking jokes about their target, while Steve is desperately battling that creature for his life and doing everything they’re not supposed to. Example: Nancy: Wow, three heads. Sounds kinda annoying--can you imagine how weird sex is? Jonathan: But that means that it’s better at paying attention. So it’s best not to try and pull a sneak attack... [Cuts to Steve trying to pull a sneak attack on the three-headed creature. He’s smashed into a pillar and groans.]

Just... monsterhunters Stoncy AU. Think about it. (Feel free to add your own thoughts/headcanons!)

[breanime]

Helpless

Part One of the Billy Russo bodyguard AU that nobody asked for... haha, but I figured, since I finished Yellow Diamonds, it was time to start another Billy series. Let me know what you think! This first part is setting up the tension.

Warning: Descriptions of violence

*gif by @benbarnestongue*

You weren’t looking for anything when you’d gone out that night. Really, you just wanted to have a few drinks, maybe dance a little, and go home—alone. It had been a hard week, work was rough, you were behind on your bills, and your landlord had threatened to kick you out again, so you were just looking for a distraction, something to take your mind off of the chaos that was your life. Your goal was to find something cheap and strong to drink, which is what brought you to the dive bar in the first place, and you sat at the bar, ignoring everyone else around you, determined to get in, get buzzed, and get out.

Instead, what you got was Billy Russo.

“This seat taken?” He’d asked you, New York accent oddly pleasing to your ears. You turned to look at him to discover his face was even more pleasing than his voice was. He was tall, thin and lean, with dark hair and darker eyes. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, but he wore them well. He was easily the best-looking guy in the place, and he wanted to sit next to you.

You glanced around the bar, noting several empty seats and tables he could have gone to instead, some of which were in the direct vicinity of girls better looking than you were, yet he chose to come up to you. You looked back at him before turning away, feigning disinterest. “Nah man,” you’d said, bringing your lips to your almost-empty glass, “It’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” He sat beside you, and he was almost close enough to touch. You noticed his biceps as he put his elbows on the bar, clocking the muscles in his toned arms. He signaled the bartender and ordered a drink: Jack and Coke, before turning to you. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asked. “You’re looking kind of empty.”

“Sure,” you put your drink down, “Thanks.”

“One more for the lady,” he ordered, making you smile. “What?” He asked, smiling back. He had a great smile.

“It’s not often I’m called a lady,” you said back.

“I’d settle for your name,” he said easily.

“Y/N,” you stuck out your hand.

“Billy,” he shook your hand, and you liked the way he gripped it, “Billy Russo. So,” he leaned back, eyes appraising you in a way that was surprisingly pleasant, “if you’re not a lady, what kind of girl are you?”

You grinned. That was a loaded question. The bartender slid your drinks over to the two of you, and you took a sip before you answered. “Why don’t you take a guess,” you challenged him.

He smirked, leaning in a bit closer. You turned in your seat so that you were fully facing him as well. His eyes washed over you, traveling down your body slowly, leaving goosebumps without even touching you. You felt your heart speed up when he looked back up at you, eyes staring into yours with a sense of confidence and intimacy that was startlingly appealing. “You’re here alone,” he started, “but you’re not trying to pick anyone up, even though you easily could,” he licked his lips, voice dropping a bit, “Lookin’ like that…” He eyed you up again, clearly liking what he was seeing. “I get the sense that you don’t take shit from anyone,” he went on, “and if you didn’t want me here next to you, I wouldn’t be.”

“Well, you did ask nicely,” you’d said back.

“Not that nice,” his grin was really starting to win you over; it was hypnotizing, “You came in alone,” he said, and you wondered how long he had been there to know that. You’d thought that you’d have noticed a man like him watching you, and you were usually pretty aware of eyes on you. Hm. “And I’m guessing your plan was to leave here alone too, right?”

“That was the plan,” you answered, fully aware of what you were implying.

“You’re a take-no-shit, leave-no-prisoners kind of girl,” he surmised, leaning back in his seat with a smirk, “You’re my kind of girl.”

Four hours later, you were lying naked on your back in his bed, sweaty and breathless. Billy was next to you, grinning at the ceiling. You turned your head and looked at him; he really was a beautiful man—and VERY talented in the sheets. Billy looked back at you, giving you a smile that was all teeth.

“So,” he asked, rolling onto his side and putting a warm hand on your thigh, “What are the chances we can do this again sometime?”

You grinned back, legs still tingling from his attentions. “I dunno,” you said, “what are the chances you make me cum again?”

“Three times wasn’t enough?” He asked, already leaning over you for a kiss. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the kiss. It was like he had been created in a lab for you, exceeding all of your expectations and touching you with the clarity of a long-time lover, even though you’d just met. His tongue slipped in your mouth at the same time his fingers slipped inside of you, making you gasp into his mouth. “It wasn’t enough for me, either.”

You saw him again the next night, and the night after that as well. Every time you were with Billy, you felt your fondness for him grow. He didn’t tell you much about himself or what he did for a living, but then again, neither did you. The two of you were effortlessly compatible, a fact that even he couldn’t deny, and so it was an easy task to be with him. Before you knew it, you were at Billy’s apartment for five days in a row, leaving in the morning as he got ready for work, trading kisses and dirty promises on your way out the door. He was an ex-Marine; he’d told you, shown you a photo of him and his unit in Afghanistan. You didn’t know exactly what he was doing now, because he told you he was no longer on active duty, but he still went to work—or somewhere—every day. You didn’t ask. It was none of your business. You two liked each other, obviously, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you: this, whatever it was, was just for fun. It meant nothing, and there didn’t need to be any feelings involved.

Which is why you didn’t cry when one day Billy stopped returning your calls, and why it wasn’t hard at all to move to a different city once you got prompted at your job. You told yourself it was for the best, and it was fun while it lasted—which it was. You ignored the random pangs of longing that came out of nowhere every now and again, telling yourself it was just because you needed to get laid; you missed the sex, not the man, after all. After the first few months went by, it hardly hurt at all, thinking about Billy.

You were pretty much over it by the time a year rolled by…

…more or less.

You woke up in a bad mood. You’d dreamt of Billy Russo, of his kiss and smile, his long fingers trialing up and down your skin, and you woke up irritated, at both yourself for even having the dream, and at Billy for not being there to soothe you. Your mood hadn’t improved as the day went on; you were annoyed with your co-workers, who were nervous and twitchy as you got ready for your next job, annoyed with the wait, the jitters and what-ifs that came before the rush, and annoyed with your boss for being the insufferable asshole he always was.

“Listen up, ladies,” he said, even though you were the only woman there, “This job is a two-parter,” he was standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, “Tonight we go for the driver; he’s gonna have the routes, passwords, and plans on him. With that, we’ll be able to get in and get out before anyone even knows we’re there.” He looked over at you, eyes hard. “I’m counting on you for this one, Y/N,” he said, “You fuck it up, and we’re all going to prison.”

You didn’t react, just gave him a bored stare. This was common, the pressure he put on you before a job. But you could take it—you always could.

He stepped over to you, boots slamming against the concrete floor. He was armed, you knew, because he was always armed, but you didn’t budge, just watched as he stomped over to you, looking up calmly as he towered over you. “This is where you tell us all that you’ve got it covered,” he growled.

You looked past him and saw the others looking at you. Alex, the tech guy, was at his computer, hacking into something, you guessed. Justin was standing next to Jamal, both of them cleaning and checking guns. Ronnie was supposed to be listening to the police scanner, but his eyes were on you. The new kid, Khalil, was openly staring. This was his first major job, so he hadn’t seen this display before. You looked back up at your boss, Big Joe, and knew what it was he wanted you to say. “I’ve got it covered,” you parroted, “Dad.”

He nodded, stalking off to try to intimidate one of the others, pent up energy going where it always went with him: outward. Newly irritated, you got up and went over to Khalil. He was prepping the bags, making sure the zippers all worked and the handles were sewn on tight. It was grunt work, to be honest, but…the kid was a grunt.

“Are you nervous, Y/N?” He asked.

You liked Khalil. He hooked up with you guys to make some money to pay for his mother’s medical bills. He was a good kid. “Nah,” you answered, taking a bag and helping him check it, “I’ve been doing this too long to be nervous.”

“Yeah…” He looked away before glancing back up at you. It occurred to you then that he was probably just in his teens. He shouldn’t be here. “I, uh… Didn’t know Big Joe was your dad…”

“He’s not,” you put the bag down and grabbed another, “He adopted me when I was a kid, Ronnie, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “Ronnie’s my adopted brother.” You looked down at Khalil; he was captivated. “Joe’s been having me help him on cons since I was 11,” you went on, feeling unusually talkative, “It started out as just some soft shoplifting, dine-and-dashes, stuff like that. Then we graduated to pulling scams on white collar guys, blackmailing them for a briefcase full of cash,” you hated those days, hated having to even be around those stuck-up assholes, have to let them look down on you the way they did, “Ronnie started robbing corner stores and stuff, turns out he had a talent for it, so Big Joe let him in on his big jobs. I wanted in, so I convinced him to let me drive the getaway car,” you smiled, tossing the last bag back to Khalil, “And here we are.”

“I’ve seen you drive,” he said, awe clear in his voice, “Alex showed me some footage from the job you did in Miami, you’re incredible.”

“Thanks.”

“Like, that’s what I want to do,” he went on, “I want to be like you, so badass, make that crazy cash—”

“Listen,” you stopped him, “From someone who’s been doing this for most of her life, let me tell you: it ain’t shit. Robbing trucks on the highway, having to look over your shoulder all the time, never being able to settle down or be completely honest with someone…” Your mind provided a picture for you then, a flash of dark eyes and a shining smile. You pushed it away. “…It sucks, man. It’s shit.” You leaned down so that only Khalil could hear you. “After this job,” you whispered, “you need to take the money, take your mom, and get as far away from Joe as you can.” You stood up, looking him in the eye to make sure he heard you. Then you walked away. It was almost time for the job. And after this two-parter, as Joe called it, you’d take your own advice, grab your money and your brother, and get the hell away from that man as fast as you could.

The plan was simple, repetitive even; you drove the crew up to the target’s truck—an armored truck transporting fresh new bills to a bank, as well as the copy of the next delivery, route, and access codes to several of the company’s ATMs—and Joe led the guys, Justin, Jamal, and Ronnie, onto the top of the truck where they cut a hole in the ceiling. Justin and Jamal were charged with collecting the money, packing it into the bags Khalil had prepared earlier, while Joe and Ronnie handled the driver. Ronnie kept the driver occupied with threats (and violence) if need be, and Joe—communicating with Alex, who was in the back of your van—hacked into the locked case and got the codes and plans. After that, it was all you. The guys would get back in the van with you, and you’d make sure you all got back to the safehouse without having to deal with the cops. From then on, it was only a matter of checking the plans and routes and whatnot, making some plans of your own, and doing one last job. Easy peasy.

But then the driver had a gun, and he was shooting and yelling, and you could barely hear anything in your headset beyond the sound of bullets and screaming. You swerved, moving the truck to the right sharply when the armored truck nearly ran into you.

“What the fuck is going on?” You asked into the headset, trying to keep the van as close to the truck as you could.

“Get ready,” Joe huffed into the receiver, sounding out of breath, “We’re getting the fuck out of here!”

You did as he said, bringing the van right next to the truck, despite the haphazard driving and swerving, and reached up, opening the sunroof for the guys.

“The fuck is up with this driver?” Alex asked, shifting as you had to swerve once again to avoid being run over.

You didn’t know, and so you didn’t answer. You jumped, as you always did, when you heard the crash of a body hitting the van—the boys were coming back. Joe dropped in first, breathing hard. He pulled Ronnie in next, then Justin.

“Go, go, go!” He shouted, climbing into the passenger seat beside you.

“Where’s Jamal?” You asked, looking up at the truck, expecting to see him standing on the roof, ready to jump.

“He’s dead, let’s go!” Joe answered.

You looked into the rearview mirror and locked eyes with Ronnie. His eyes were wide and watery, and you noticed blood on his face and shirt.

“Drive!” Joe’s voice brought you back to earth, and you hit the gas hard. When you looked back at the road behind you, you saw the truck veer off to the shoulder and crash, and you knew why the driver had been driving like that before: he was dead.

No one spoke all the way home, there was complete silence all the way until you pulled in. Khalil was waiting for you all in the garage, ready to go through the bags of cash for any dye-packs or unmarked bills. He froze when Ronnie stepped out. “Wh—what happened?” He asked, voice shaking. He blinked. “Where’s Jamal?”

“Dead,” Joe answered, grabbing one of the bags and tossing it on the ground, “We need to go through these.”

“How did he die?” You asked, voice hollow.

Joe threw another bag on the crowd, back to you. “Driver had a gun. Shot him in the chest.”

“W—we should have taken him with us,” Justin said, eyes overflowing with tears, “We just left him…” He looked up at you and Ronnie. “I didn’t see him die, he could still be…”

“He’s dead,” Ronnie said. You looked over at him. You’d ever heard his voice like that before, so full of anger. His eyes were on Joe’s back, but Joe was still clearing the car out. “Joe shot him,” he went on. Your blood went cold. “He killed the driver, and then walked over to Jamal and shot him in the head.”

Joe stopped moving, but didn’t turn around. He just stood there, his back to his crew, as this revelation came out.

Justin was shaking, and Alex moved away from Joe, as if he could catch ruthlessness from the other man like a disease. Khalil moved closer to you, and you would have felt sorrier for the boy if you weren’t so disgusted by Joe. “You killed him?” Justin asked, tears streaming down his face.

“He was already dying,” Joe said without turning around, “I had to make sure he wouldn’t talk. He was dying anyway.”

“We don’t do this,” Ronnie said, shaking his head. His hands were balled at his side, and you could practically feel the rage coming off of him. “We don’t kill people; we don’t kill our own people…”

“We rob,” you agreed, staring at Joe’s broad back, “And sometimes—sometimes, someone gets hurt, but we don’t kill. We never have.”

“You never have,” Joe twirled around, eyes wide and wild, “I did what I had to do—and I’d do it all over again if it meant I get my money and my life!” His voice echoed in the silent room. “That’s why I’m in charge,” he went on, “cause I make the hard decisions, I keep this operation running! I’m the one who took you off the streets,” he snarled at Ronnie, “saved you from your crack fiend mama and taught you how to thrive,” he glared over at you now, “And I’m the one who took you in when your parents died, brought you up from nothing. So all you bitches can shut the fuck up, dry your damn eyes, and start clearing these bags!”

No one moved.

“You killed Jamal,” Justin whispered, soft and slowly like he was testing the words, “You killed him.”

“That’s manslaughter,” Ronnie said, “Two counts, life in prison.” He shook his head again, disgusted, “You’re done, Joe.”

“How dare you talk to me like that,” Joe hissed, “I’m your father—”

“—You’re not my father,” Ronnie snapped back, “or hers! You’re an old man who’s gonna spend the rest of his life in prison—”

“—How?” Joe asked. “No prints, no evidence—I didn’t leave shit behind!”

“I’m not going down for you,” Ronnie said, taking a step back, “I’m out.”

You opened your mouth, ready to say the words as well, when you were interrupted by a loud bang. You blinked, feeling something warm and wet erupt on your face, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at your brother Ronnie…

…with a hole in his head.

Everything happened in kind of a blur after that. You vaguely remembered screaming, and you must have touched Ronnie, because later you noticed how bloody your clothes were. You had never felt so helpless in your life as you had as you held Ronnie in your arms, watching him take his last breaths. There was nothing that could have been done, even you could tell that the shot was fatal, and once he finally stopped moving and you felt him go limb, you knew he was dead.

Joe had made some kind of speech then about betraying him, gesturing with his gun and yelling and cursing, but you hadn’t heard it. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. The boys all went back to work, grabbing the bags and going through them, but you didn’t move. Even when everything was packed up, you stayed on the ground with Ronnie, staring down at his lifeless body. You vaguely registered movement from your peripheral and saw Alex and Justin leave. Khalil said your name above you, but you didn’t look up. You heard his soft “I’m sorry” before he left, too. A few minutes later, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You looked up to see Joe. He didn’t look at Ronnie, made an effort to avoid him, actually, as he stared down at you, feigning regret. “I had to,” he said lowly, “I had to… He was my own son,” he shook his head, closing his eyes as if he was just so hurt, “and he was gonna betray me, gonna rat…” He opened his eyes again. “I had to…and I’ll do the same to you if I have to.”

You watched him walk away. Then you got up, knees wobbling and hands shaking, and got in your car.

By the time you made it to the police station, you were all out of tears to cry.

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

Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! I have the next part ready to go if anyone is interested in this plotline. 

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[bishiglomper]

I had a dark, creepy inception dream.

Very FFXII inspired. There were supernatural stuff as far as how the laws of nature worked.

First bit of the dream I had little plushies I would pick out to be my "children"? I would pick out a little funko pop sized one, love on it and it would sit and incubate somewhere until it was ready. But i kept forgetting about then and like a year later I'd check on it like "omg I'm so sorry, are you alive, do you still love me??" And the stuffie would slowly start moving like blinking to life and it would seem to forgive me and then I had these live plush things. That I called my children. There were some figure ones that worked like those sponges you put in water and when it was done and you wiped off the water-saturated goo, you'd have a baby. 😂 I stuck with the stuffie version.

For some reason my uncle drove a huge yellow school bus. Just to get these like, 8 teens every day. Mom and i were always there. I fuckin' hated it. He drove too fast and people were always diving out of the way to not be killed. I was always freaking out waiting for the inevital bump of going over a body. Somehow it never did. I always sat in the back looking out the windows. One day i had enough and said out loud "I CANNOT STAND THIS DAMN BUS!" And people were like "huh" and "why" and mom was like "shhh your uncles driving it"

Once again i was just like "I CANNOT STAND THIS GODDAMN BUS" knowing my conservative christian uncle would be annoyed. He told me to basically shut up and sit down. I was in a very "fuck you" mood and stormed off though. I was just relieved to be off it. It made me so anxious and angry. I dunno what all that was about.

Another part; I made friends with this fey child thing. She was kind of a bitch, as far as children go and there was a grumpy talking (light grey Persian) cat. Dunno wtf these were but they were of the monster variety.

I wanted to abandon my life and go with the monster girl. One of the things i learned was in the tilled field next to us, below lived some sort of huge scary monster. Like spiders? But they were kind but would put you to work mucking out their tunnels. Gross but interesting. Also carried the fey risk of never being allowed to return, but if one wanted to run away and live with the monsters, it wasn't the worst one could do. There was another option that involved running a gauntlet in a river. I watched someones attempt, and there was magic involved and they were about to not make it, and drown... But some creature came to their aid and what it did was speed them up as they were swept down the river in the wake of something's tail. They sped up because to make it out and over the falls they had to go supersonic or something. So the fish? Hummingbird? Creature saved them and they passed. Definitely not worth risking.

Then the dream shifted into more plotty things and there was a big mansion. This is the inception part because i think i was thinking up a story but at the same time, was involved in it. Or it mirrored my situation.

The monster girl had her mom and i told her I was coming with her. But that we needed to leave as soon as possible because there was danger from another monster. She was like yeah, and told me to wait. I waited by the cat. I later found out the kid abandoned me to go to bed. But she said we'd leave during the night. So I tried sleeping for a few hours.

Well. The monster matriarch caring for the house/people wasn't going to let me go. It was like a momma wanting to keep her babies home. She'd sooner eat me than let me leave.

I guess we tried to drug her into sleeping deeper so we could flee easier but something went wrong and this monster mom slowly started stalking after us. I woke the girl up, found out her mom had been sucked dry and was just a husk. We grabbed what half-packed bags we could with me literally flinging shirts and jeans into a bag as I ran to the window. We were gonna hoof it until she just straight up threw her shit in a nearby truck and got in the driver's seat. She looked 8. I think i was little too. Btw she was moving in an urgent sort of way, but was otherwise unfazed by the events. Like she knew how to handle it. I however was scared shitless.

After we were on the road, someone else was driving while we tried to get some rest. This is when i thought i had been plotting so I thought i would share what setting i had with her. To talk about something else.

Basically the plot was..

Main character gets drafted but shortly dies. (Directly stolen from the beginning of FFXII LOL) and he leaves behind a brother and friends in this small town though he lived at the big mansion. That was cared for by a matriarch thing. This matriarch was a monster and had a certain influence over the place. I mean, people were content enough but definitely had an unnerved sort of vibe about them.

I remember there was a younger brother shrouded in this same contentedness but eventually started to realize things were off. So he wanted to escape. But they had an even younger brother, who was sickly and often snuggled down with... Not the matriarch, but some of the people who were definitely doing her bidding. One of the things they did was reward and keep the kid's interest by giving him special marbles they said looked like planets. Like the kid didnt know anything about planets and was completely fascinated in collecting and learning about as many as he could. He'd only have a handfull of marbles at a time but they were treated like special magic stones. He was completely saturated by this influence. (Since its FFXII inspired, lets call it Mist)

So the middle brother tried to enlist the help of his uncle who could be trusted and wanted to help. (He had some political power at the house but in one of those.. "The bad guys obviously dont like or trust him" sort of ways) And i guess the middle kid was training to be a doctor because they used it as an excuse to be handling certain things. I think they were trying to get closer to the sick kid. Also find proof that something wrong was going on.

The guy tried to involve a handfull of his friends. Some were his older brothers friends. There was one that had gone into a drunken depression at his death and was on a bad path. (A sherrif like guy was worried about him, having promised the dead brother he'd watch over him but..) One guy had a small motorcycle he loved but was the cautious friend with the sense of reason. Kind of the leader. Dunno much about the others.

At some point, they have to flee. They're all on crotch rockets and trying to evade the cops which are under the matriarch monsters influence. They hop a barbed wire fence and escape past some curly haired cow calves in a stable. They just managed to get away.

I think the drunk guy was gonna turn his nose up at the friends and tell them to fuck off when they ask him to help, but he meets up with them later out of a sense of duty.

I dont remember much more that i can organize into linear thoughts. But the whole vibe was dark and so creepy..

[another-om-mc]

extension to [this]

Maybe I shouldn’t have said yes… Cooking eggs over a fire, I know how to do, but now I had a few boxes of cake and brownie mixes and I’m stalling by running around the kitchen looking for mixing bowls and cake pans. I messed up I messed up I messed up I messed up I messed up I messed up

“’EY!” I chocked on a scream, turning around fast enough to slosh some of the liquid cake mix onto my shirt. Oh. Normally I’d be relieved to see Mammon behind me, but he looked so upset. Not mad, just…. I dunno, emotionally constipated like everyone else here I guess.

“Y...yeah?”

“Why are y’ so damn stressed baking?” He pointed at my hands death gripping the spatula when I just kept looking confused instead of answering, “Pact, remember?” Oh, yeah, I was even worried about it earlier and somehow it slipped my mind now. “Y’ve been stressed the fuck out all day.”

How is he just leaning on the counter like we didn’t almost just die? Sure Levi blew up before, and the demons at school liked to start fights with us, but this wasn’t the same level. My eyes stung, and I guess I was just staring off into space while I thought about my answer, since he just took the bowl from me and set it aside. That’s fine; I don’t think I can make it any way.

“I already told ya, just ask for help.” He thinks its actually about baking…. Of coarse he does! He has to deal with this psycho shit every day, and he’s a demon, who can actually take a beating from Lucifer. This is probably a normal Tuesday for him.

I’m dumb.

He sighed and stopped messing with the fire he’d stoked in the stone oven, turned to me and looked me in the eye. I hate when people do that, it’s so uncomfortable; not that I’d dare say that right now. Later. “Ok, clearly you didn’t read up on pacts before making them.” Ok, yeah, that’s true. “I dunno what you’re thinking, but what ever it is it’s so much emotion I can feel it. So spill it or get over it, yeah?”

I stared, a bit horrified, for a minute; I didn’t want to make him feel as bad as I did. Especially with how he gets treated all the time. A million thoughts are running around my head and I can’t grasp on to any of them.

Panic. Fear. I’m fucking up. I keep fucking up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I fucked it up.

“Do you wanna take it back?” I offered up my hands to him, not sure how to actually break a pact, “I don’t want you to feel this.” I don’t wanna look up at him, so I just look at the yellow-gold markings. I really like them; they’re pretty

!!!! And now hes grabbing my face. I hate when people touch me! Please don’t Touch me! Don’t Don’t Don’t Don’t Don’t - “Can y’ not hear me?” What? “I didn’ say nothin about that, I said spill it. Tell me whats going on in yer head!”

Brain.exe has crashed. I don’t know how to do that? This isn’t normal. Why isn’t he mad? … This place isn’t home, it isn’t normal. What do I do?

“Are you ok?”

His hands dropped, I almost wish he didn’t? This place isn’t normal. He looks so annoyed with me. Guilt. “First of all, stop feeling so fuckin’ guilty!” He reaches for me so fast and shakes me I covered my face reflexively. Panic. God I’m so pathetic. They should just eat me. I hate that I did that; that he saw me do that. “I’m not gunna hurt you.” Guilt. “I know...”

I still wasn’t looking at him. I’d rather look at anything else right now. He put his chin on my head and I don’t get how he’s so nice to me. I know it’s his job, and we’re sorta friends, but no ones ever nice to me but Shan and I don’t know how to deal with it and It’s a lot and I don’t want him to move; I wanna cry. I don’t want him to feel how gross I feel, I don’t want him to see me cry, or how useless I was. I’m so useless here; I’m not used to it. “Thank you.” He can think what he wants about what its for. “Um… can you help me figure out this stove?”

Decompression, relief… safe. Safe? ………… Yeah, he’s safe.

He’s yammering on about something Devildom related I don’t quite understand fully, and just helping, like it’s normal. I can’t help but smile a bit while I get the sticky now fully soaked in cake batter out of my hoody and watch him try his best with baking supplies; he’s not very good at this. It’s cute.

Affection, grateful.

Fear.

His shit lifts above his pant line and I can see the bruises. Anger. Resentment.

“Are you ok?” I asked again, realizing he never answered me earlier.

He looks back at me with a face full of confusion, “Why do you keep asking me that?” “Because you won’t answer me.” And because I know you aren’t. Even with out the bruises, this place sucks a good half the time. I know he’s just going to keep rambling and deflecting so I just take it into my own hands and lift his shirt over the bruise. He doesn’t even look mad like I expected he would, just panic-y; and I can feel it. He shoves his shirt back down and grins like a guilty idiot, “M’ fine. I’m The Great Mammon after all!” I wish he’d stop doing that. I get it, I know why he does it, but I wish he didn’t have to pretend like that.

I’m so tired. I put my forehead on his chest and he just freezes. That’s fine. I’ll get off if he tells me to, but I just wanna stay here for a minute. Then two. Then the timer goes off; I can’t believe he even had the forethought to set a timer.

We’re fixing the cakes onto plates and setting up the next round of stuff, “I’m not very strong here. In the human world I can just fight my problems, and usually win. I’m not used to being useless.” I admitted, and then we both pretended like I said nothing and went on with our business like nothing happened. Thank you.

[pajama-nerd]

Reading my way through Fazbears Frights, thinking about how none of these protagonists have ever interacted with any kind of horror media.

Reader Beware: Spoilers Ahead

Into the Pit didn’t read like time travel to me. It read more like a particular kind of haunting where the negative energy of all of the bad shit that happened at that location was locked into the one remaining 'feature' of the location: the ball pit. And Pit-Bonnie isn't the ghost of Afton, but rather the entity that was created from the memories of all that bad energy.

And the interesting thing to me about Pit-Bonnie is that - aside from the inherent creepiness of the situation and the fact that he had literally one facial expression (he can’t even blink for cryin’ out loud) - he didn't attempt to harm Oswald until Oswald went back to rescue his dad. Once Pit-Bonnie was away from the negative energy that had spawned him, he did Dad Things™. He did them in the creepiest way possible, granted, but we don't actually know how he feels because of his inability to express.

Maybe he wanted to stay. Maybe he just wanted a break from that place. Maybe that place has a hold on him, and being away from it allowed him a measure of free will.

And the fandom that I’ve seen about the Dashboard has locked onto Pit-Dad-Bonnie because the general attitude of the fandom - as far as I've witnessed - has been 'Oh. A scary thing! Well, now it's friend-shaped.' (or, in this case, Dad shaped) so of course my immediate question is, 'how would the story have changed if Oswald had made a more serious attempt to communicate with Pit-Bonnie?'

The immediate, cynical response is 'well it would have slaughtered him' but that's infinitely less interesting than the possible alternatives.

Perhaps he takes in the fact that Pit-Bonnie can't talk, and proposes an alternate method of communication. I'm talkin construction paper and crayons. And he gets Pit-Bonnie to tell his story a la Nephrite from Steven Universe. About how one day he just was. And how sometime after that, that version of Fazbear's formed around him. And how there were happy, smiling kids laughing in the pizzeria and he was happy, but how every time he tried to be friends with the kids something would happen.

The world would flicker and they would just be in that back room, like that. How he was desperate for some kind of a connection and could never have one because those kids – those memories – were doomed to die by the memory of his hands. How he noticed Oswald because Oswald didn’t fit – he was real – and how he’d wanted Oswald to help him figure out how to change what had happened (or to make it stop), but Oswald had run away. About how he’d tried to fish Oswald out of the ballpit and gotten his dad instead. About deciding to take his dad’s place so that he could get away from that place and how being here with Oswald was nice. Driving him to school was nice. Making him dinner was nice. Cleaning the house with him was nice.

(Imagine Oswald getting less and less afraid as he interprets the story, checking in with PB occasionally to make sure he's getting it right. Getting slightly annoyed tho, because he's not getting rid of this rabbit, is he? But he still needs to rescue his dad, so now what?)

Oswald eventually tells PB that he can stay, which surprises but elates the rabbit. Then Oswald tells him they have to get his dad back.

There's a negotiation. Obviously, they have to get his dad back. Has Pit-Bonnie been going to his dad's job? What about taxes? Things his dad knows how to do? What about Oswald's mom? Is Pit-Bonnie just going to pretend to be his dad around her forever? What if she wants to do...like...parent stuff? With her husband? If you catch my drift (PB does not, in fact).

Eventually PB agrees, and even drives Oswald back to the same block as the pizza place. He doesn't get close to it - definitely doesn't park in the lot - but Oswald just tells him to wait in the car and goes and wakes his dad up from the ball pit. His dad is confused. Disoriented. Way out of it. Let's Oswald lead him back to the car and sits in the back, too out of it to comment on the yellow bunny mascot in the front seat. They return to the house without incident, and his dad passes out on the couch.

Oswald eventually figures out that PB is the one making his dad so loopy - that the connection PB formed so that he could know how to drive the car, how to work the vacuum cleaner, how to make Oswald's meals, is also keeping Oswald's dad borderline comatose. It takes some convincing to get PB to give that up. PB is afraid to give that up - afraid that if he doesn't have an anchor, he'll go back to being an aimless product of rage and murder.

Oswald's solution is to spread the bond out. He'll take part of it. If PB splits his focus, it'll be less of a strain on his dad, and PB will have more than one anchor. This has the added property of giving his dad the ability to see the seven-foot-tall grinning plush rabbit (he doesn't react well. Neither does mom. Oswald has never had to talk so much in his life)

So now Pit-Bonnie is a part of Oswald’s life, and it’s hella weird at first, but everyone gets over it, because eventually you just get numb to weirdness. Except Oswald becomes obsessed with Freddy Fazbears, in an Unsolved Mysteries kind of way. Starts researching the place wherever and however he can.

Pit-Bonnie helps, in his way, after they figure out a way to communicate efficiently (modified Sign Language, because being bonded to Oswald means that Pit-Bonnie knows how to do all the things that Oswald knows how to do. So Oswald learns sign language. Which means that Pit-Bonnie knows how to sign now. He still only has the one facial expression, which makes asking questions a little complicated, but they work it out).

I imagine that Pit-Bonnie is very tuned in to the weirdness/darkness vibe that Freddy’s and its remnants (ha) give off. He starts reading local and then state, and then national newspapers, and whenever he gets the Fazbear vibe, he sets the article aside for Oswald to look at. Also he doesn’t sleep, so in the first week of Oswald’s obsession, he generates a lot of leads for Oswald by going through back issues of...everything.

This is a rambly thing, but my point is that most horror has a solution and most of the time this solution is subverted by having it happen to people who have no experience with horror movies, books, comics, or other mediums, which is…I dunno. Kinda cheap.

‘What if they ever saw Frankenstein and sympathized with the monster enough to have empathy for this thing?’

‘They’re not horror fans. And the ones that are have never seen or read the stories where empathy solves the problem.’

To Be Beautiful (a terrible, one dimensional story with a terrible message about self-image told the way that high school stories in the 80's-90's were told, which wasn't even accurate to how highs schools were in the 80's-90's) could have been solved by literally anyone being more than passively curious about the drastic changes that Sarah was undergoing. (Puberty doesn't work that fast. Her whole freaking face changed). Or by her mom going into her room at some point and asking about the 5 foot robot doll.

Count the Ways has many solutions, although, really? She shoulda chosen starvation. More time to escape or be rescued is always, always, always going to be better than a 'maybe I won't be bifurcated’ any way you slice it (I’m not sorry), but I'm fond of the idea of Oswald coming across an article about ‘theft of proprietary animatronics from a Fazbear Entertainment property’ and it leading him to Milly’s grandfather’s house in time to save her. Along with his seven-foot-tall grinning plush friend who can alter people's perception.

Fetch could have been solved by treating Fetch like a dog. Seriously. He is dog shaped. He is therefore a dog, first and foremost. Dog first, killer animatronic second. Which Greg didn't fundamentally understand (he strikes me as a cat person anyway). But Fetch spent that entire story trying to do what he thought his master wanted, and never got so much as a 'good boy' out of it. He didn't even try to defend himself when Greg went to town on him with a baseball bat because he just wanted to be a good dog for his boy. And even after that, when Greg expressed a desire to see Kimberly, Fetch still wanted to do something to get his master to call him a good boy. Honestly, if - after being warned about Fetch - Kimberly had planted her feet and said 'Sit!' I would bet actual Faz-dollars that Fetch's haunches would have dropped to the pavement out of surprise alone, because it would have been the first time in the story someone treated him like a dog.

Alec was doomed to be a teddy-bear from the moment his parents picked up a ‘how to raise my kids’ book, but he’s still alive. There’s no reason he couldn’t be rescued (by Oswald, who’s on the trail of all the weirdness related to Freddy Fazbear. I’d read that story. I’d write that story. I will probably write that story)

The Plushtrap story...had no flaws. That was the only solution, and good on those boys for making all the right choices except for the initial choices that put them in that situation to begin with. A+. Those teeth, Jesus.

1:35 am could have been solved with an apology. Come on. For a character that was supposedly in the Foster Care system being bounced from home to home, you’d think she could empathize with an entity that didn’t appreciate being thrown away. A sincere apology, a promise to never do it again, and Ella would probably have forgiven her.

I don’t remember where I was going with this. I started writing it before I clocked on for work, but that was eleven hours ago. Who can remember where a train of thought that far back?

[khaosgaming22]

Date Night

Hailey walked uptown to the restaurant she had selected, most of the time her and Bee would just go to the Stardust Tavern but personally she wanted something a little more romantic this night. The tavern was alright but the stories that she had heard about the parties her mom and dad had there definitely prompted her to find another option. She checked the time on her watch, 7:00 on the mark, which meant Bee would be here in exactly five minutes. It was something that always made her laugh, Bee always felt like she was late but Hailey didn’t mind. It had become routine at this point, she just found it funny because Hunters were usually the most mobile of the classes, but she supposed that Warlocks were the most punctual too.

She sat down on the bench outside the place and waited the extra five minutes when she saw a sunflower yellow blur come dashing up the street. Hailey wore a nice orange skirt and a black top, she admitted she was never very fashionable. Her mother never really passed that trait down, and when you go shopping with Aleina that many times it kinda knocks any enjoyment out of nice clothes early on. Hailey however, was not expecting to see Bee in that.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! She apologized quickly as she usually did and straightened her purse back to her side. “Couldn’t figure out how to walk in these stupid deathtraps...” She scorned looking down at her black high heels and when Hailey said nothing she looked at her. “Are you okay? You look like you just saw a Ghost, not like a Ghost I mean like a y’know.” She made a motion with her hands that was supposed to mimic one.

“No no yeah.” Was all Hailey could get out of her mouth, in truth she was absolutely speechless. Bee had dressed up a bit before but this? This was a new level, and the Titan liked it. “W- why don’t we head inside?”

“Okay.” Bee shrugged still a little confused at what was wrong with her date. They walked into the classy restaurant and immediately knew this place was very different from their usual hangout. The tables and booths had red cloth over them, the waitstaff was all dressed up in suits and the lighting was mostly by candlelight save for one crystal chandelier. Bee didn’t know how to feel about all this, it was a bit overwhelming but it was what Hailey wanted for tonight so she’d go along with it until she couldn’t.

Hailey pulled a chair out for Bee before sitting down in her own across from her still being quiet. There was light chatter around the restaurant as they both looked at the menu. The selections were all expensive but then again she expected that from a place like this, she decided on a pasta dish with marinara and went to look at the selection of cocktails. They were all too fancy for her liking so she decided to ask for just a simple glass of Vodka and Orange Grenadine.

Bee was stuck as well, this place hadn’t even been her idea in the first place and Hailey was being awfully quiet. Granted Bee was usually the talker even she had to admit that but still, it was strange for her to go this long. She wanted to break the ice a bit. “So uh... that’s a nice um dress you picked out, it really matches your hair.”

“Th- thanks.” Hailey responded smoothing out a wrinkle on her top. Well that was a fail, she barely talked. A waitress got to their table soon after.

“So what will it be to start off you two ladies?” She asked cheerfully taking out her pen, this place got guardians and civillians alike so it was a bit hard to tell who was who. Bee thought she was probably a civilian.

“I’ll have a Vodka with Orange Grenadine and a splash of lemonade thanks.” Hailey said opening up more to the waitress then Bee, what was going on? She jotted down Hailey’s drink order and turned to Bee.

“Oh. And uh I’ll have the... um I guess I’ll have what she’s having actually.” She said giving up on looking at the menu at all the fancy sounding drinks. If you asked her for tea or coffee she would know right away but alcohol was more Hailey’s area. The waitress walked off to get the two drinks and Bee focused on getting her Sunbreaker back.

Hailey didn’t really know what to do, she picked out this place to add to the romantic aura not snuff it out. It just made her wish they were back in their cozy, rustic tavern. Bee’s outfit didn’t help either, for a strong and defiant Titan let alone Sunbreaker, Hailey was melting inside with every glance of her she allowed herself. She figured alcohol would help her chill out so she asked for something that would help with that.

As for Bee she was still trying to figure out what was going on. She put a hand on the table as descrete as she could so Hailey would hold it but she still wouldn’t budge. She was pretty much looking everywhere around her but her. Finally Bee couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Alright, come with me.” She demanded and motioned for her to take her hand getting up from their table.

“Wh- why?” She stammered and looked up at Bee’s face for a second, it looked a bit annoyed. Something the Titan had never really seen before out of her.

“Just- cmon.” She crossed her arms and walked off toward the restroom while Hailey followed close behind. This was new, she had seen Bee sad but never angry. She followed her into a stall and Bee locked it behind them. Hailey didn’t really have anywhere else to look but her now as her heart pounded in her chest.

“Okay. What is your problem? You wanted to have a date together here and now you’ve been avoiding me all night what is going on!” Hailey looked down at her shoes blushing red that matched both her hair and outfit. Finally she spoke.

“I- I’m sorry. I thought this place would be nice but it’s so... I dunno suffocating? No that’s not the word- You get what I mean.” She explained and Bee nodded.

“O...kay but that still doesn’t answer why you’ve been avoiding looking at me all night.” She pushed and Hailey put her hand up to nervously tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Th- that’s just because... well the way you’re dressed-“

“Why? What is there something wrong with it? I wanted to dress up since this place was so-“

“No no no! The dress is fine... it’s more than fine is the issue, you just look so... hot in it.” She blushed more and Bee’s optic shutters widened.

“Oh.” Hailey smiled sheepishly red still painting her cheeks as she moved a little closer.

“The moment I saw you in it my heart just stopped and I couldn’t look at you without blushing, so I didn’t... sorry.”

“Just blush then!” Bee laughed. “I like seeing you blush, it’s something Exo’s like me can’t do... plus it’s really cute.”

“Oh don’t you dare start talking about who’s cute now missy.” Hailey giggled with her putting her hands at her hips. The two stayed in the stall together for a bit like that until Hailey finally spoke.

“Hey if we both hate this place so much why don’t we get outta here?”

“And ditch the waitress? That seems a little mean.” Bee said concerned.

“We’ll pay and leave her a big tip, would that help your soul?”

“You know I don’t physically have one silly.”

“Oh shut up you absolutely have a soul.” She leaned in to whisper into her audio sensors where her ears would be. “You got a heart too.” She pulled away and smiled.

“Sh- shut up no I don’t.” She said flustered proving she did indeed.

“Mmmm we’ll see about that when we get outta here.” Hailey winked. Out of the two of them she was definitely more smooth and seductive, Bee had tried a few times before but Hailey always just laughed at her being cute.

“I have one condition.” Bee said determined which made Hailey giggle.

“And what’s that my darling Bumble?” Oh yeah, nervous Hailey was long gone.

“You have to carry me with your big Titan muscles.” Bee smirked and Hailey answered by opening the stall door and sweeping her off her feet in a princess carry.

~

They paid for their drinks and Hailey downed hers making it clear to everyone that she was indeed a Guardian cause only they could take that much alcohol at once. Bee took a sip but immediately hated it so she left hers for the waitress. True to her word, Hailey carried her all the way back to her house. Ken was in the living room playing a video game from the Golden Age where you collected and fought with adorable little monsters. He heard the door open and was not expecting who walked in.

“Hailey? What are you doing back so early it’s barely nine o clo-“

“Where’s mom’s stuff?”

“Uh....”

“Never mind, we’ll find it cmon my little pollenator let’s go to my room.”

“Hehe, okay.”

“Hey dad?”

“Y- yeah?”

“Don’t come up.” She kissed Bee as she walked up the steps and Ken went back to his game with a shrug. Bee ended up staying over.

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

BEASTARS MINI-STORY #5: “Everybody Play the Game pt. 1” by JCL

---

We see Jack sitting alone by his writing desk in dorm room 701. He's got several books, documents and a notebook positioned ahead of him, suggesting that he is about to do some homework, but he is currently busy talking on his cellphone. We hear a voice coming from the other end.

???: "So you are sure that you can all come that day?"

Jack has his nose down a monthly planner-book, where we see that he has encircled a date with red ink: May 23rd. Within the circle he has also written "Game night at Yanni's with Legosi and the guys."

JACK: "Don't worry about it. I've double-checked with the others. There shouldn't be any problem."

The labrador retriever suddenly gets a puzzled look though as he adjust his reading glasses.

JACK: "But why is it so important that everyone is there? We've had game nights before with one or two missing. As long as it's four of us we can play most things." ---

We go over to the other side of the line and see that the one he is talking to is Legosi. He is standing out in the corridor of the first in the hidden condo, using the shared phone. He scratches his cheek.

LEGOSI: "Well, it's like this..." ---

We skip ahead for a bit. Jack is now sitting in the school cafeteria together with his roommates: Durham the coyote, Miguno the spotted hyena, Collot the old English sheepdog and Voss the fennec fox. They are eating their lunches, which today appears to be composed of rice, miso soup, tamagoyaki and a broccoli salad.  

JACK: "He's bringing Haru to game night. He wants us all to meet her."

The rest of the guys stare at him.

MIGUNO: "His girlfriend? The bunny?"

Durham looks a little skeptical. Next to him we see Collot stuffing his face with a big helping of the tamagoyaki.

DURHAM: "Why? Does he want to rub it in our noses that he has a girlfriend and we don't? I mean we already have Collot and his harem for that."

Hearing this, Collot turns to him and protests with his mouth full, with yellow crumbs flying out and staining Durham's sleeve as he does.

COLLOT: "I don't have a harem!"

Durham groans in annoyance, picks up a napkin and wipes his arm.

DURHAM: "Then what was all that chocolate you had in your locker last Valentines day about? Looking for a golden ticket or something?"

Jack sighs at their shenanigans, like a patient parent dealing with a group of dysfunctional siblings.

JACK: "I doubt that's the reason. He probably just figured it was time he introduced her to his friends."

Durham shrugs at this and takes a sip from his milk carton.

DURHAM: "Sounds like the adult thing to do."

Miguno sticks his fork into his salad, stabbing through a piece of broccoli before taking it up to his mouth.

MIGUNO: "Just imagine it, our little Legosi, all grown up."

Durham leans forward, resting his chin in his hand while adopting a pensive expression.

DURHAM: "Grown up Legosi."

Collot crosses his arms and looks up into the air.

COLLOT: "Grown up Legosi with a girlfriend..."

Voss (who unlike his friends is so small that he has to sit on the table while eating instead of on a seat next to it) is flicking his right ear.

VOSS: "... Who is a bunny."

JACK: "..."

It is quiet for a few seconds, with it seeming like the boys from room 701 is internally tasting the situation. It is then that Durham interrupts this quiet moment with a question that appears to be on everybody's mind.

DURHAM: "Am I the only one who wonders how the hell that works?"

Collot picks up his bowl of miso with his hand.

COLLOT: "No, I've actually been pondering about that too. I mean I flirt with the herbivore girls as much as I flirt with any of the carnivore girls, but that's mostly to be courteous."

He then proceeds to loudly slurp up its content (table manners is not his strong side). He then puts the bowl down again, licking the soup residue off his lips with his tongue.

COLLOT: "I don't think I could date one though... No matter how taboo-liciously hot they can be...!"

Miguno gives Collot a skeptical look and shakes his head at him (though whether it is because he agrees with this sentiment or just finds the word 'taboo-licious' disturbing is unclear).

MIGUNO: "I couldn't believe it the first time I heard it."

JACK: "Well they've been together for almost two years, so there has to be something..." (Though I honestly don't get it either)

DURHAM: "What I don't get is the attraction, on both sides."

Durham stretches his arms out in an expanding motion.

DURHAM: "I mean Legosi is HUGE, even by wolf standards."

He pulls his arms back, then holds his right hand raised about 20 centimeters over the table.  

DURHAM: "And bunnies in general are tiny! Don't you think it's a little bizarre for someone that big to be together with someone so minuscule?"

It is then that Durham remembers the presence of Voss, the undoubtedly smallest member among them, who is shooting him a glare from across the table.

DURHAM: "No offense."

The fennec gives him the finger.

VOSS: "None taken. And just so know, I don't think the size thing is that weird. I mean she could just be into big mammals. I can relate to that!"

Collot's face shrivels into a disdainful grimace.

COLLOT: "Yeah we all know about your literal giant fetish dude...!"

Durham scratches back of his head and closes his eyes.

DURHAM: "You know, I used to have a hard time picturing Legosi with a girl to begin with. I mean he's a great guy, but I always figured that he was a little too quiet and weird to ever get one. Then we have his obsession with bugs. I mean that's not an attractive hobby."

As he thinks back to previous moments with Legosi, we see a montage of the wolf being just... Well, HIMSELF. These include times when he is just staring off into space, eating an egg sandwich or letting a spider walk over his hand. As this montage ends, Durham turns to Jack.

DURHAM: "Hey Jack. You've met this girl before, right? What is she like?"

Jack blinks, then looks over his shoulder, as if he is thinking hard about it. He then appears to have reached a conclusion and gives Durham an answer:

JACK: "She's nice."

The group stares at Jack in silence. Durham waves his hand in an urging fashion; he wants more details.

DURHAM: "And?"

Jack shrugs.

JACK: "And cute I suppose... I dunno, I just met her once, so I can't really paint a bigger picture of her. All I got from her is that seemed perfectly pleasant."

Durham looks dissatisfied with this.

DURHAM: "But what about the important stuff? Like... Like..."

He struggles to come up with what he is trying to say. It is then that Collot leans over and fills in with the question closest to his heart:

COLLOT: "How big are her breasts?"

Durham snaps his fingers at this, like it was exactly what he was trying to relay just now.  

DURHAM: "Precisely!"

Jack's face twists into an incredulous expression.

JACK: "THAT is the important stuff?!"

COLLOT: "Well yeah, I mean Legosi is a big guy like me. It's a fact of life: big guys like big jugs. I mean if you make out, would you be satisfied with pinching and pulling a pair of steamed buns or do you want your hands full of anpan?"

Jack stares at Collot with disapproval and a deep blush on his cheeks.

JACK: "Where did you learn that? Sex harassment ed? This is Legosi's girlfriend we're talking about, how about you showing a bit of class?"

This makes the rest of the guys look a little self-conscious, recognizing that they talked in a rather insensitive way about someone they haven't even met yet.

DURHAM: "Yeah, you're right."

MIGUNO: "Important thing is that she makes Legosi happy."

Collot nods.

COLLOT: "M-hm."

Things get quiet for a few seconds again, with them just eating.

VOSS: "You know, I do think the size play's a keyrole, but I don't think it's a tiddie-thing."

Voss puts the thumb and indexfinger of his left hand together to form a circle.

VOSS: "I mean just picture it..."

He forms his other hand into a fist which he then proceeds to push through the WAY too smal circle of his other hand. This prompts Jack to scream out loud in protest, earning the group weird looks from all over the cafeteria.

JACK: "CLASS VOSS! CLASS!" ---

TEXT BOX: 1 week and 2 days later.

Skipping ahead of time, we see Jack, Collot, Voss (who is riding on Collot's shoulder), Durham and Miguno walking through town during sometime in the afternoon.

COLLOT: "So what are you guys up for tonight? I'd personally be into a game of Catch'em Scratch'em*."

VOSS: "Well, you all know what my favorite game is."

COLLOT: "Don't tell me you want to play Fivelimbs* again? I hate to say it, but you know how it goes every time."

Voss shoots him an annoyed look.

VOSS: "Don't trample on my dream you big galoot. Besides, I have a new, mind-blowing strategy!"

DURHAM: "Does it involve using your ears? Cause they you may have a fighting chance against the rest of us."

Voss flips Durham off again.

VOSS: "Eh, fuck you!"

Miguno, who seems to be pondering on something, speaks up.

MIGUNO: "I just had a thought."

DURHAM: "Please tell me you don't want to play Word Wriggle* again. I mean half the words you come up with isn't part of any earthly language!"

Miguno waves this away with his hand.

MIGUNO: "No, no... I was thinking, what if we're too scary when we're together?"

The others give Miguno a confounded stare.

COLLOT: "Us? Scary? Are you serious?"

VOSS: "Have you ever met us? We're like the cuddliest-wuddliest bastards you'll ever come across."

MIGUNO: "I am serious. I mean, when a predation incident occurs, people avoid us like the plague. But, don't you think that's partly because we're all together?"

In Miguno's background we see the entire group (including Legosi) at an earlier point at Cherryton, walking through a school corridor together. As they walk through the halls together, several herbivores get out of the way, looking uncomfortable and/or scared.

MIGUNO: "I mean, a single carnivore can to a scared herbivore be enough. But there's five of us, six with Legosi. One by one it's not that bad, but with all of us together... Could it be that we're extra intimidating that way?"

The group continues to stare at Miguno. Durham looks disturbed.

DURHAM: "What did you bring that up for?"

MIGUNO: "Well I was thinking... What if this girl is going to get scared of us?"

Collot shakes his head at this.

COLLOT: "No way. If Legosi doesn't scare her, how could we?"

MIGUNO: "Legosi is just ONE carnivore, but what if being a small room with SIX might be too much for her?"

The group seems to think about this. Durham crosses his arms and adopts a pouty expression.

DURHAM: "That is just crazy...!"

JACK: "Well... Maybe not that crazy."

Everyone turns to look at Jack, who looks a bit worried.

JACK: "It has been proven in studies that herbivores who feel surrounded by a larger than average group of carnivores can experience heightened levels of stress and feelings of isolation. With more sensitive animals, it has even lead to panic attacks."

The group seems to take this bleak information in. Voss sigh and look depressed.

VOSS: "Well I guess we can forget about Fivelimbs then."

Durham throws his arms out in annoyance.

DURHAM: "Well that's just great, now we have to worry about scaring this poor girl to death!"

Miguno scratches his head, looking about as worried as Jack about this whole thing.

MIGUNO: "If we do that, we could just jeopardize our friendship with Legosi...!"

COLLOT: "Easy now, lets not panic. We just have to make sure we don't do anything that could make her feel threathened or anything."

DURHAM: "Like what? File down our teeth and shrink to Voss size?"

MIGUNO: "Jack, you know a lot about scientific stuff about herbivore/carnivore interactions. How can we make her feel safe around us?"

Jack scratches his chin and seems to work the old brain box to remember some useful information on this subject.

JACK: "Well... This is just what I've read in books, but..."

He holds up a finger, like he is about to hold a lecture. We see a few illustrations appearing in Jack's background: One is a basic drawing of dog-like carnivore, standing next to a basic drawing of a small, rabbit-like herbivore.

JACK: "One thing with smaller herbivores is that they are usually very self-conscious about their size. The biggest reminder of this is whenever they have to look up in order to meet a large animal's eyes."

The rabbit look up at the dog with a nervous look, a red, dotted line being drawn between it's eyes and the dog's.

JACK: "Kneeling or crouching down to eye level when greeting them can therefor make them feel more at ease."

The dog crouches down, so that his eyes are on the same level as the rabbit's. Another, green dotted line is drawn between them.

VOSS: "Well that sounds simple enough."

A new illustration appears behind Jack: The dog-like carnivore and the rabbit-like herbivore are now sitting opposite one another at a table.

JACK: "Another thing is that herbivores can experience reactionary spastic movements in their legs whenever they see carnivores eat."

As the dog eats some spagetti, we see the rabbit's legs twitch with non-voluntary movements under the table.

JACK: "It's an old reflex. The sight of sharp teeth at work triggers an inherited, physical memory that is prompting the herbivore to run."

Collot scratches the back of his head at this.

COLLOT: "I guess we could cover our mouths while eating... Anything else?"

JACK: "Well then there is the question of space."

Yet another illustration appears behind Jack: We see the rabbit surrounded by several, carnivore-like shadows. Panicky sweats are radiating from it's head.

JACK: "Herbivore's can experience an exaggerated sense of enclosure if the room is small and feels crowded with carnivores."

Miguno looks relatively calm about that fact.

MIGUNO: "Well it's a good thing we decided to rent a table at Yanni's then. That's place is both public and spacious." ---

We now find ourselves in an alley near the town center. There is an establishment in the building in front of us with a large sign above it that spells 'Yanni's Games & Coffee' with a logo that features a cup of coffee with a pair of dice in it, as if they were sugar cubes. It has a large store window with a display featuring lined up board games, including Know-Edge-Ledge*, Cages & Keepers* and Hungry-Hungry Wolf*, some big novelty chess pieces and two Catch'em Scratch'em cardboard cutouts on opposing sides of the display. A black fold-up sign is standing outside on the sidewalk with a text on it written with colored chalk, listing specials (cucumber sandwich, cinnamon buns and Latte Macchiato) and recommended games of today (Whack-the-Weevil* and Whodunnit*).

TEXT BOX: Yanni's Games & Coffee: An establishment located near the town center. It's a cafe where you can rent a table for a few hours and play various parlor games. It's a gathering place for various clubs and a popular spot for both herbivores and carnivores to sit and relax while also playing games together.

The boys from 701 are standing outside of it, looking at it with mild awe.

MIGUNO: "Seems like they've boosted the place up since the last time we were here."

Voss, Collot and Durham stare into the window excitedly, while Jack inspects the sign.

JACK: "Must've gotten more popular with time... I guess more and more people need calmer means of relaxing these days."

LEGOSI: "Hey!"

The boys turn, and they see that Legosi, accompanied by Haru, has arrived. Jack smile as he sees them.

JACK: "Ah, Legosi! Haru!"

The wolf and the bunny walk up to them.

LEGOSI: "We didn't make you guys wait for too long?"

Jack waves this away with his hand.

JACK: "No, no, we just got here."

The rest of the guys walk up behind Jack, each of them giving Haru curious looks. Haru steps forward and gives them a curt little bow.

HARU: "Hi, I am Haru. Legosi's girlfriend. It's nice to meet you."

The boys stare at her with starstruck expressions.

COLLOT, VOSS, DURHAM & MIGUNO: (This girl is...)

Haru flashes a friendly smile that seems to generate sparkles in the air around her. The boys all wag their tales.

COLLOT, VOSS, DURHAM & MIGUNO: (...SO FRICKING CUTE!)

--- TO BE CONTINUED

[darks-ink]

Absurdism Chapter 4

Jazz shows off that she really is a teen by listening to someone tell her why you shouldn’t do something and then promptly doing it. She makes a friend in the process.

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

---

Chapter 4: What You Want

Jazz’ core thrummed in her chest. Energy lapped from it through her body, streaming through her veins. Pooled together in her hand.

A golden glow emitted from her hand, but it was dim, flickered wildly.

“You’re getting there,” Danny—Phantom—encouraged, standing right next to her. “You can feel the energy coming from your core, yeah? If you increase that amount, the blast will get brighter and stronger.”

“Right.” She tried to tug on her core, tried to pull more energy from it. The energized ectoplasm in her hand pulsed, growing bigger. Its glow grew more steady, too.

“And then, when you’re ready to let go of it, fire! Aim at your target, and then will the energy to go there.”

She nodded, watching the golden-yellow ball of energy in her hand. It was in constant motion, the glow dimming and brightening in sync with the pulse of her core.

Slowly, steadily, she raised the hand towards her previously chosen target. The rock was a big target, and close enough that she felt like it would be nearly impossible for her to miss.

She released the energy.

“Good hit,” Phantom complimented, floating over to the rock. Its surface was scorched where she hit it, but the soot rubbed off easily. “Not a lot of strength behind it just yet, but that’s fine. Aim is more important.”

“Why was it golden, anyway?” She walked over as well, but it was as she thought. The hit had blackened the surface of the stone, but it was barely damaged underneath. “Aren’t your blasts green?”

“I dunno.” Phantom shrugged, ignoring her incredulous expression. “Look, I’m not an expert on all things ghost, okay? I know some stuff, but I had other priorities. I guess it might be linked to eye color, though.”

“Eye color?” she repeated, thinking it over. Yes, she supposed Phantom had blasts that matched his eyes, and she had golden eyes, but… “Do you know more ghosts as an example, then? I thought green was kind of standard, since that’s what our parents have.”

“Pretty sure green is the most common, because that’s the standard color of ectoplasm.” He formed a ball of ecto-energy of his own, tossing it from one hand to the other. “And I’m not sure if it holds up for full ghosts, but all half-ghosts I know have energy blasts that match their eyes. Well, more or less. Plasmius had magenta energy and red eyes.”

She nodded along, then ground to a halt. “Sorry, who’s Plasmius? There’s another half-ghost?”

“Well, yeah. In my world, at least. Not sure if he’s different in this one.” Phantom shook his head, turning to look at her again. “If he, or his equivalent in this world, is anything like mine, you don’t want to bother with him. He doesn’t live anywhere nearby, and he’s not gonna help you. I’ll—”

“Keep an eye out for him?” she finished dryly. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Come on, Jazz, don’t be like that. I’m not keeping you in the dark on purpose, alright? I just want to make sure I don’t tell you anything that’s different here.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed, but nodded. “It’s just— You do that a lot, you know? With Red, and Danielle, and now this Plasmius. And you’ve barely told me anything about your experiences with the ghosts, with, well. All this.”

“It’s just… hard.” He rubbed a hand through his eyes, and when he looked up again, the sadness was back. “This place is so much like home, and all the ghosts… I keep remembering when I first met them, with Sam and Tucker by my sides. Or you, or hell, sometimes even Red. There’s so much history, and it’s… I miss them, Jazz.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, his boots touching down in the grass. His posture was slumped, like he was carrying the weight of a world. In some way, she supposed he was. “And there’s no point in going looking, because I’m never going to find the portal on my own, and I know that. But it’s still… hard, to talk about that. To know that somewhere out here, there’s a Sam and a Tucker, and they’re almost like mine, but not quite. That don’t have any of these experiences.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it with all her heart. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he interrupted her, waving a hand. “I know, Jazz. I’ll… try to talk more about this stuff, okay?”

“Yeah, alright.” She nudged him, gently. “Want me to try blasting that rock again?”

He snorted. “That could barely be considered a blast, you know. But, yeah, go for it.”

“Oh, are you really trash talking me now? Wow.” She stirred her core back to life, feeling it hum with energy. Honestly, as offended as she acted, she was just glad to get Phantom cheered up again, even if only a little.

“We’ll have to work on your trash talk too, you know?” Phantom threw a look at the ball of ectoplasm she was forming, then took position between her and the rock. “Amity Park knows we’re here, now. That ghosts exist. Sooner or later you’ll have to fight for real, with opponents that understand what you’re yelling at them.”

“I know, you don’t have to tell me.” More energy pulsed into the ball. She wanted this one to have some punch to it. “But for now, I would rather focus on the actual fighting aspect.”

Phantom hummed, not shifting from his position between her and her target. “Good. In that case, we’ll move on to target shooting. Tell me when you’re ready to fire that one.”

“And, what, I’m supposed to just shoot you?” She shook her head. “No matter how weak this blast will probably be, I don’t want to risk hurting you, Phantom.”

“If you warn me before you shoot it, I’ll make a shield.” He reclined a little, entirely too casual considering that he was talking about her shooting him. “It’ll give us a better image of your current strength, and you won’t break through anyway. I’ve stopped ecto-blasts way stronger than your core can make right now, it’s fine.”

“If you insist…” she said, uncertainly. But, well. If he was sure about that, who was she to tell him no? “I’m ready when you are.”

“Good.” A green dome appeared around him, transparent enough for her to see him within. Its surface stirred, in constant motion. It almost looked like an oversized ecto-blast, but hollowed out so one could take shelter within.

Jazz lifted her hand, putting a last bit of energy into her blast. And, once more, she fired.

The dome took the hit easily, the blast sizzling out against its almost liquid surface.

“Very good. Was that where you aimed?” The dome dissolved, leaving Danny floating in the open clearing. “The strength was alright, but you’ll need to work more to increase it, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “The aim was pretty close, but I’ll need to practice more. It’s weird, to aim with your arm like that.”

“It took me a while to get the hang of it, too,” Phantom assured her, floating closer again. “We can practice more, if you want, or we can try something else.”

“I… Let’s stick with this for now.” The shield could be useful, but she was pretty sure she needed more consistent strength for that, first. “This was a good way to build core strength, right?”

“Pretty good, yeah. And it’s a basic technique, which can serve as a jumping-off point for more advanced techniques.” Phantom floated back to his old position, his legs merged together in a spectral tail. “Let me know when to throw up another shield.”

“Sure,” she said, and they went through the motions once more. Phantom’s shield blocked her next blast with ease, not even flickering upon impact.

“Better,” he complimented her, looking pleased. Then he caught sight of something in her expression, and his face dropped. “Jazz? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she assured him quickly, but it didn’t seem to work as his frown grew deeper. “Nothing related to this, really, it’s fine.”

“I never see you look frustrated, Jazz, unless it’s something serious. You know you can talk to me, right, even if it’s not half-ghost stuff?”

She sighed, but nodded. “Yeah. It’s just… It’s nothing, really.”

Phantom scoffed. “I don’t believe that. Seriously, Jazz, either tell me, or tell someone else. If I learned anything from my Jazz, it’s that keeping this stuff to yourself does more harm than good.”

“Oh, don’t use my own psychology techniques against me.” She stuck out her tongue, but admittedly, he had a point. “It’s nothing, really, just… I hate seeing all the bullying happening at school, you know? They never target me, sure, but I wish I could help anyway.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling.” He floated in closer, settling in next to her. “I did get bullied, you know. After I got my powers, even I didn’t want anyone to know about them, it was so easy to imagine getting back to them. Invisibility and intangibility… not to mention overshadowing!”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, turning to look at him. His eyes sparked with life, now, and that ever-present hint of sadness. Memories and homesickness, she figured.

He snorted. “I did. Sam wasn’t very happy with me, but Tucker approved—he got bullied too, you know—so I figured I was in the right. Ah, if only it worked out like that…”

“What happened? Did they catch on, somehow?”

“Nah, not them.” It didn’t seem like he was going to elaborate, so she prodded him a little. Okay, maybe a lot. It was her right as a little sister to be annoying! “Alright, fine, I’ll tell!”

“Go on, then,” she insisted.

“Okay, okay, chill. None of the humans caught on, but there was this ghost who was opposed to bullies. Only, he thought that I was the bully, because he hadn’t seen how it started. It was… a whole mess, honestly, so I tried not to use my powers for that kinda stuff afterwards. Didn’t want to risk it again.”

“How did that even happen?” she asked, curious despite herself. It sounded like this ghost had the right idea, honestly. Even if Phantom might be reluctant to search them out, maybe she could. “How did they catch you off-guard, anyway?”

“Oh, Sidney has a portal of sorts inside Casper High.” Phantom ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “It’s a mirror inside his old locker. He can go through it, but no one else can, so it’s not a huge deal. Not sure what made it activate, honestly. He just started appearing after I got switched to that locker. I ended up breaking the mirror to make sure he couldn’t come back, although he can still use the regular portal.”

“Huh.” She quickly scrawled all this down in a mental notepad. Sidney, a ghost in Casper High, had an old locker with a mirror that activated after Danny started using it… Maybe she could find it later, with a little research. “Well, I’m glad it all turned out okay in the end.”

Phantom laughed, humorlessly. “Yeah, me too. Now, if that was your only concern, how about another ecto-blast?”

---

Jazz paused in front of the locker. Glancing one way and then another, she made sure that the hallways were empty. In front of her was locker 724, in all its damaged and rusty glory.

She hesitated. It hadn’t been all that hard to find information about the ghost Phantom had mentioned. Sidney Poindexter was an old student of Casper High, bullied relentlessly throughout the years. Stories about him haunting Casper High had been around for decades, but none of those stories ever mentioned his mirror.

But Phantom—Danny—had. According to him, Sidney had started appearing from his mirror once Danny got the locker. She supposed that the mirror needed the increased amount of activity to activate, or perhaps Sidney needed it. Either way, the best way to keep an eye on the activated portal would be to move to someplace safer.

Gathering her courage, and with one last glance to make sure no one was watching, Jazz shifted to her ghost form. As Specter, she turned herself intangible, reaching through the locked door. Her hands closed around the edge of the mirror, and carefully, she pulled it out. She wasn’t sure if it was adhered to its spot, somehow, but it didn’t seem to be.

Pulling it out entirely, she was left with an ordinary-looking mirror. Shifting back to her human form didn’t make it change, either.

“Not sure what I expected,” she muttered under her breath, turning back to her own locker. If only she had more information on how this was supposed to work. What if she had broken the connection permanently by moving the mirror?

Jazz unlocked her locker easily, then lifted the mirror to place it in the back. She paused. Lowered the mirror again.

Gently, she blew the dust off, then wiped the remainder away with the sleeve of her shirt.

“There,” she said, placing the mirror in the back of her locker. It hadn’t activated to the dusting off either. Maybe she needed to talk to him?

“I… I don’t know if you can hear me…” She paused, biting her lip, feeling foolish. But if Sidney was real, and he certainly sounded like he was, maybe she just needed to treat him like a person? “I’ve… heard about you, Sidney. About the good you do, standing up to bullies. And… honestly, I think the school could really use someone like you. The bullies are out of control, and teachers aren’t stopping them, no matter how I ask. And I— I might have powers, ghost powers, but I don’t— I don’t know how to use them for this. I want to help, but I don’t know how.”

She swallowed, but the mirror remained blank. Undisturbed. “I don’t know if you’re… If you can hear me.” She reached out, placing her fingers on the cold surface of the mirror. “But, Sidney, if you can hear me… Please come. Please help me deal with these bullies.”

Still no reaction. She drew her hand back, feeling stupid. No matter. Even if it didn’t work, at least the mirror was someplace safe.

Shaking her head, Jazz closed her locker again. She might’ve wasted most of her break on this, but she had some time still left.

---

Slowly, Jazz shifted books from her locker to her backpack, and vice versa. Around her, the noise in the hallways lessened as more and more people left. It was Friday, now, almost a week after she’d brought the mirror to her own locker.

Even if she had doubted the effect of it at the time, the stories were undeniable. More and more people started talking about it, about bullies getting shut down, getting put in their place.

The hallways around her emptied. She kept up the pretense of being slow until she was sure that they were empty, that she was alone.

“Hey,” she said, addressing the mirror. “Um… Are you there?”

The surface of the mirror rippled, like the Portal did when Technus came through, little more than a week ago. And, just like then, out came a ghost.

Colored entirely in monochrome—which she didn’t even realize was possible for ghosts—was a teenage ghost roughly her own age. Dressed in old-school style clothes, which made sense considering how long he’d been around, and with slick black hair, he sure looked the part of a nerd.

Sidney Poindexter blinked at her behind his large glasses.

“Hey, I’m Jazz. Jazz Fenton,” she introduced herself, shooting him a disarming smile and offering a hand. “You’re Sidney, right? Sidney Poindexter?”

“Er… Yes.” He took her hand, shaking it hesitantly. Like all ghosts, his hand was cold to the touch, and a little too soft to be human. “And you are the halfa— the half-ghost. The one who spoke to me, earlier this week?”

“Yeah, that was me.” She glanced around, just to be sure, but she hadn’t heard anyone approach. The hallways were still empty. “I go by Specter in my ghost form. I’ve been working together with my brother Phantom to keep this city safe from ghostly threats, but… the school isn’t even safe from human threats. I heard stories about you, about who you are and what you do, and I was hoping you could help.”

The ghost nodded, then straightened his bow tie. “Well, I’m honored to be considered. It would be my pleasure to help in any way I could.”

“Good, good, I’m glad.” She shot him another smile, and Sidney flushed a darker gray—a substitute for blushing? “As long as you don’t go too far, of course, but I think you’ve got a good grasp on that already.”

“Yes, of course. We’d be no better than the bullies if we caused any real hurt.” Sidney hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Are there any… limitations to this agreement? To stay in the school, to only appear within certain hours, any such things?”

“I mean, not really?” She shrugged. “So far the city hasn’t seen a ton of ghosts yet, since Phantom and I have tried to keep everything out of sight, but that’ll end sooner or later anyway. As long as you don’t cause any trouble, you’re free to go wherever you want in the city.”

“The whole city?” Sidney repeated, growing wide-eyed. “You would offer me such freedom so easily?”

“Well, yeah.” She shrugged. “As long as they’re not causing trouble, I don’t see why we must differentiate between ghosts and humans. The public probably won’t agree with me on that, especially the local ghost hunters, but as long as you can avoid them you’ll be fine.”

“Ah. I’m not sure if I’m ready to mess with ghost hunters.”

“They’re not a huge threat right now,” Jazz assured him. “They don’t have functional ghost scanners—Phantom and I keep disabling them—so they won’t find you unless anyone reports your presence. If you stick to quiet areas you’ll be fine. The local woods nearby are very nice. If you want, I can show you around sometime?”

Sidney flushed dark gray again. “Well, I’m not sure…”

“It’s no big deal. We can be friends, right, and that’s what friends do. You’re helping me out a ton with this, let me help you.”

“Well, gosh.” He scuffed his shoe on the floor, then looked back up to her if. “If you insist, I would love to make your acquaintance.”

“Friends, then.” She smiled at him, wide and bright. “Hey, I gotta go right now—I promised to train with Phantom. We can talk after school on Monday, find a good moment, if you want?”

“Ah. That would be… nice.” Sidney smiled back, clearly uncertain. “See you on Monday, then?”

“Yeah! I put your mirror in my locker, by the way, so you should be safe to pass through it whenever you want.” She started backing towards the doors, raising one hand to Sidney. “Bye, Sidney!”

“Goodbye, Jazz!” he said, hesitantly raising a hand as well.

---

“You don’t believe me,” Jazz said, incredulously.

“It’s not that,” Phantom quickly assured her, raising his hands. He was, as usual, in ghost form. “I’m just having some trouble imaging it. Sidney was always easily angered, and he never got over our first conflict.”

“He seemed fine to me.” She crossed her arms, staring down her alternate universe brother. “Very calm, very understanding.”

Phantom blew out a breath, landing on the soft grass as well. “I mean, good for you! Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you. I just… keep expecting things to go the same way for you as they did for me, even though you’re a completely different person.”

“Is that why you want to wait before telling me about Red, Danielle, and Plasmius?” She relaxed a little, cocking an eyebrow. “Because things go differently for me than they did for you?”

“Yeah, that, and I want to make sure none of the fundamental things are different in this universe.” He gestured at himself, then at her. “After all, something is different at the very base, with you being the younger sibling and the half-ghost around here.”

“Fair enough,” she admitted, dropping the tense posture altogether. “So you’re alright with letting Sidney roam free?”

“Sure, why not? As long as he understands the dangers. And hopefully he’ll keep a low profile for now, until Amity gets a little more familiar with ghosts.”

“I warned him, at least.” She hoped the same, though. At least Sidney looked rather disarming, as far as ghosts went. “And I promised to show him some quieter places, so he can go outside without being invisible or getting spotted.”

Phantom nodded. “Clever. And who knows, maybe he can teach you a thing or two about ghost stuff as well.”

“I thought you were my ghost teacher?” She sniffed. “Unless you’re going back on your words?”

“Honestly, I don’t know all that much about ghost culture, and all that.” Phantom shrugged, shooting her a sheepish smile. “I know how powers work, and I know how to fight. Mostly because those two are basically the same thing. But beyond that? My knowledge is pretty limited.”

“Well, being able to defend myself is an important skill,” she allowed. “Especially since not all ghosts will listen. Technus could’ve caused a lot of trouble if you hadn’t been around to stop him.”

“I like your approach, though.” Phantom flew in closer, nudging her. “For the first few months, my answer to pretty much everything was to fight them. Seeing how you’re doing, I can’t imagine how many unnecessary enemies I made.”

“I guess I have a good teacher to guide me.” She leaned against him, her core stirring oddly in her chest. “I don’t need to make enemies if you scare them off before I can fight them.”

Phantom laughed, suddenly. “Are you just really good at guessing, or did you hear about Skulker?”

“Who?”

He laughed even harder, now, curling against her side. Whoever Skulker was, Phantom must’ve actually scared the guy off before she ever discovered he was around. Convenient, but it also made her very curious.

“Seriously, Phantom, who’s Skulker?”

“I’ll— tell you if it’s— relevant,” he managed between bouts of laughter. Wiping away a tear, he added, “I’m keeping— an eye on him.”

She blew out a noisy breath. “Of course you are.”

---

Jazz riffled through a few more items, thanked the shopkeeper for their time, then moved on to the next stall. Danny—her Danny—had invited her along to the Amity Park Swap Meet, and she had excitedly grabbed onto the opportunity. These days, she felt like she spent more time with Phantom than with her actual brother.

But the moment they had arrived, Danny has sought out Sam and Tucker, and had left her to fend for herself. Looking back, she probably should’ve expected as much, but still. Now she was here all alone, when looking through the stalls was way more fun with someone to joke around with.

She sighed, skipping over to the next stall. And her search was looking rather hopeless as well. She’d hoped to find something to give to Sidney, to thank him for helping her, but so far it didn’t look great. She was pretty sure he was from the 50’s, and stuff from that time… Well, there wasn’t much she could find, anyhow.

Before she could consider the next stall, her core stirred to life, and she paused. Were her powers acting up?

Blue air wisped from her mouth, and she stifled a chagrined sigh. Nope. A ghost had come to mess up her nice weekend day.

Shouts sounded from nearby, and cursing, she ran to find a secluded spot. Hiding behind a few abandoned stalls, she tugged on her ghost core, shifting into Specter.

At the ghost wasn’t too hard to find, floating high above the rapidly-emptying marketplace. Green-skinned like most ghosts, but with long black hair and clothes in purple and blue, her spectral tail languidly curled underneath her.

“Hey!” Jazz called as she flew in closer, drawing the ghost’s attention. “Who are you, and why are you causing trouble?”

The ghost narrowed her red eyes at Jazz, pressing a dainty hand to her chest. “I am Desiree, the wishing ghost! I fulfill any wish I hear, including yours. Tell me, what is it you want most dearly?”

“Uh…” Jazz ground to a halt. “For you to… stop causing trouble?”

Desiree scoffed, lowering her hand. “Surely there must be something you wish for?” She flew closer, suddenly, curling around Jazz. “Something you… desire?”

“Get away from her!” A vivid green ecto-blast whizzed right by the two of them, and Desiree flinched away from Jazz. Before she could really process what was happening, Phantom was next to her, green energy coiling around his fists.

“Or what?” Desiree snarled back, pink energy whirling around her own hands. “Afraid that I might give her something you cannot? Afraid that you cannot chain her anymore?”

“What? No!” Phantom shook his head, gesturing over at her. “She’s—”

“I’m his sister,” she cut in, catching the hand aggravatedly gesturing at her. For some reason Desiree had gone on the defensive when Phantom had shown up, and whatever it was, she wanted her to calm down again. “Sorry, he’s just really protective. Most ghosts tend to pick fights, you know, and I’m not a very good fighter just yet.”

Phantom huffed, but didn’t argue. His spectral tail lashed angrily, but he doused the ecto-blasts, at least.

“I… see.” Desiree released her gathering energy as well, the pink dissipating. “I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” Phantom said, unexpectedly, after shooting a short glance at Jazz. “You have a bad history with men, right? Of course you’d be suspicious. Plenty of terrible men walking around. I can… I can leave, if it helps?”

Clearly the suggestion was as surprising to Desiree as it was to her, as the ghost grew wide-eyed. After a moment of quiet, she shook her head. “No, it’s… alright. You’re clearly not the sort of person I thought you were.”

Quiet fell, as Phantom and Desiree were looking at each other. They must’ve fought in Phantom’s own world, Desiree’s wariness of men causing a clash.

Which left her with a problem. Desiree implied that she had to fulfill any wish she heard. If that was the case, she couldn’t be left to her own devices. Who knew what kind of wishes people might utter, that she would be forced to fulfill. If only there was some way to… solve… that…

Oh. Duh.

“I have a wish, actually,” she said, drawing the attention back to her. Phantom made a face that said, very clearly, ‘don’t do it’.

“Do you?” Desiree shifted, her jewelry melodiously clinking together. “What is it then, young ghost?”

Next to her, Phantom started gesturing even more clearly, but she ignored him. He had admitted that he had fought every ghost he had encountered. This, right here? This was her expertise.

“I wish you could chose to fulfill wishes, rather than being forced to fulfill any wish you hear.”

“Oh,” Desiree said, blankly. She raised a hand, almost automatically, pink energy coiling around it. “As you have wished it, so shall it be.”

The energy washed over them, then pulled back onto itself, coursing through Desiree. She blinked, almost as if surprised by the event. Looked down at her hands. Then at Jazz.

“What…?” she asked, like she was still trying to process something she had done automatically. “I— You—”

“I wished for you to be free to fulfill wishes, rather than forced to.” Next to her, Phantom made a shocked noise. “That’s… That wasn’t wrong, was it? I thought— You looked so unhappy, but…”

“No, no, I— Thank you.” Desiree smiled, uncertainly, wavering. “You have done me a great kindness. How could I possibly hope to repay this?”

“You don’t have to.” Jazz flapped a hand, waving off the offer. “I—we—protect this town, yes, but that isn’t limited to the humans. If ghosts come here, hurting or upset, we help them too. Right, Phantom?”

“I— Yes.” He nodded, maybe a little too forceful to be natural. “Yeah, like she said. We’re happy to help however we can, Desiree.”

“That is unexpected kind of you.” Desiree’s gaze drifted from Jazz to Phantom. “Both of you. I’ll take my leave now, but, with your permission, I would love to return at a later moment.”

“Of course,” Jazz assured her before Phantom could say otherwise. “This was one of the first times the city saw ghosts, so the ghost hunters might become more active after this, so I don’t know if it’ll be safe to visit, but we’re fine with it. Right, Phantom?”

“Yeah, exactly. Any ghost that isn’t causing trouble is welcome in Amity Park.”

“In that case, I would love to take you up on that offer.” She smiled, kinder this time, more sure of herself. “Perhaps I can repay your kindness next time. For now, I must go. Goodbye, you two.”

They waved goodbye as Desiree faded from visibility, leaving just the two half-ghosts hovering in the air.

“Well,” Danny said, breaking the silence. “Guess that the cat’s out of the bag now. Amity definitely knows about ghosts now.”

“At least she didn’t cause any major damage?” Jazz looked down at the abandoned marketplace, but whatever Desiree had done to cause the initial panic, she must’ve undone it before she left. “Could’ve been worse.”

[courtingcourtiers]

more unposted f/o february! day 24 was under an umbrella!

Wizard has exactly zero illusions about how likely they are to survive acid rain. The stuff eats at plating like nothing else and they’re, well, small. So, no illusions about it. They actively try to avoid the stuff and not get caught in it.

But the war has stolen a lot of things from them, including the choice to not be out in debilitating weather.

Their perch isn’t well protected from the top. From the sides? Yes, of course it was. Prowl valued their skills as a sniper and made sure they lived. It’s just—no one really calculated for the acid rain. Mostly because Shockwave had apparently built a machine to control it.

Wizard has never hated Shockwave more than they have in this moment. They can feel the acid burning into their plating as they try to huddle into a small ball. Within breems, their systems will shut down. With even more, their entire frame will be gutted and torn apart.

Just when they’ve accepted their inevitable and painful fate, the acid rain stops. They look up even as it pains them. Their optics catch on Sunstreaker’s figure, a bright yellow beacon of hope even as he scowls.

“Wizard,” he says, sounding annoyed but concerned, “can you hear me?”

Wizard nods, “’Course, Sunny.”

Sunstreaker leans down. Some acid rain tilts off of whatever he’s holding and lands on Wizard’s plating. They wince and Sunstreaker shuffles to fix his grip, cursing, “Slag.”

In the next moment, they’re in Sunstreaker’s arms, bundled close to his chest. They watch as acid runs off of their plating and onto his, burning into him.

“Hey, don’t—” they start, then stop. They try to pull together better words, “Put me down. You’ll ruin your plating. You’ll get hurt.”

Wizard looks up in time to see Sunstreaker’s scowl grow deeper. “Don’t worry about it,” Sunstreaker says to them. “And hold this.”

In the next moment, they’re holding the umbrella-like thing in their servos. They can’t seem to hold it straight and Sunstreaker ahs to readjust their grip. Wizard can feel the acid dig into their legs, but it is better than their spark.

The next thing they know, they’re in the medibay. It takes a moment for their processor to pull things together and they figure that they must have blacked out or something.

“Hey,” they call into the medibay.

Ratchet is next to them in the next moment, cursing at them, “What are you doing awake?”

“I dunno, Ratch. My systems went ‘cool, wake up’ and here I am.” Wizard moves to sit up despite Ratchet trying to push them back down. “Where’s Sunstreaker?”

Ratchet falters and sighs, “I’ll call him.”

Sunstreaker is in the medibay in record time. He has patches all over his plating and his arm looks brand new. He doesn’t look upset with them though, which is a good sign.

“Wizard,” he greets, like most mechs greet them.

“Hey, Sunny.” Wizard waves even though it hurts. Ratchet glares at them, but doesn’t try to stop them.

“Good to see you alive,” Sunstreaker says quietly. He hesitates for a moment before stepping forward and placing his servos on their shoulders. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

Wizard smiles at him. They say, “And leave you all alone in that big berth of ours? No thanks.”

Sunstreaker chokes back a comment and, in an uncharacteristic gesture, buries his face into Wizard’s throat. Something wet touches the tubing there and they know he’s crying.

“Hey, I’m alive,” they tell him. Out of the corner of their optic, they can see Ratchet head back to his office. Good, as much as Sunstreaker trusted Ratchet, he didn’t need to see him like this.

Sunstreaker doesn’t say anything, just presses closer. Wizard understands. They have almost lost him more than once, but he’s never gone toe to toe with the idea of losing them. Even for someone as strong and aloof as Sunstreaker, it has to burn.

[smallmediumproblems]

vigil

noun: a period of keeping awake during the time usually spent asleep, especially to keep watch noun: a demonstration in support of a particular cause, typically without speeches

Something was wrong with Jon’s apartment. He hadn’t been able to pin down what it was until the second night after the fire. Two days of Martin sleeping on his couch. Martin had been almost scarily unobtrusive. Jon hadn't caught any indication of him disturbing a single item in the flat, nor could he hear Martin moving around when he wasn't directly in sight.

Martin's presence wasn't what was wrong. If anything, it was his absence that bothered Jon.

"Martin," Jon called across the apartment. Martin always seemed to station himself at the farthest possible point from Jon, as if that would make him disappear entirely. Now, Jon found him on his laptop in the living room. "Have you seen my mugs?"

"Which… Wait, mugs, as in several?" Martin asked.

"More along the lines of all of them," said Jon.

Martin looked confused, then guilty, then outright annoyed. "Ahh, for- That, yeah. I'll find one." He got up from the armchair and hurried into the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets seemingly at random. The shelf where Jon kept most of his ceramic-ware was completely bare, except for an inexplicable coating of dust. Martin eventually pulled a mug with a band logo on it out from under the sink, where it was hidden behind a few bottles of dish soap. He held it out to Jon with a cursory nod.

"Okay," said Jon, making no motion to accept the offering, "Why."

"Em," said Martin, "Well, I- It just sort of happens? Things start disappearing around me, so it looks like nobody’s been there. Not like, really disappear, just sort of go away. Like they’re being hidden. I think it happened when I used one this morning and tried to put it back. Normally it takes longer, but I guess it’s worse if I’m trying not to be noticed. Still figuring things out."

"With the Lonely."

"Yes, Jon," said Martin. "You don’t have to say it like that. It's fine. I'm fine."

Jon eyed the mug distrustfully. "I thought you said you hadn't been in contact with Peter."

"I haven't!" Martin said quickly. "This is personal. I'm working on some stuff, and I need it."

"Right," said Jon. "And this… Stuff, there's no chance that I could help-"

"I'm sorry, Jon."

Jon took the mug from him.

"Me too."

They had just started to retreat quietly to opposite sides of the apartment again when something occurred to Jon.

“Hang on, where are the rest of them?” he asked. Martin stopped halfway through picking up his laptop, and gave him an awkward grimace.

“I dunno,” he muttered, “Around?”

“Are you going to help me find them?” said Jon.

“...wasn’t planning on it,” said Martin. “Look, they’ll turn up once I’m gone. This is why I didn’t want to stay with anyone. One of the reasons, anyway. Basira can’t expect us to stay like this forever.”

“Let’s start over,” said Jon, adjusting his glasses over a pointed glare. “Martin, please help me un-vanish the parts of my kitchen that you made vanish.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Martin protested.

“I know,” said Jon, “And I know this isn’t your fault. But that doesn’t make it go away.”

Jon wasn’t, if he was honest with himself, even a little bit angry about the mugs. He was frightened. The disappearance frightened him for a lot of reasons, but Martin’s proposed solution scared him most of all. He imagined himself alone in his apartment after Martin had left for good, watching the mugs slowly return to the shelf one by one when he wasn’t looking, knowing that when the last one reappeared it erased the only sign that Martin had been there at all. Perhaps the only sign that Martin had been, at all.

He didn’t like the way Martin had said ‘once I’m gone.’

Evidently oblivious to Jon’s internal panic, Martin set his laptop down and briefly checked his phone. “It’s going to take hours,” he complained. “Can’t we do it in the morning?”

“I’d rather not,” said Jon. “I don’t like your nightmares any more than you do.”

Martin didn’t seem to know how to respond to this, so he just nodded and pocketed his phone. “I’ll finish the kitchen. You might as well start on the sitting room.”

They worked in silence except for the occasional alert when one of them located a mug. They were missing nine in total, including the one that Martin had retrieved from the sink, hidden in increasingly bizarre places as the search went on. There was one more in the kitchen at the back of the fridge, and Jon found another inside a lamp fixture. After two whole sweeps, Jon stood in the center of the sitting room, staring intently at the front door.

“I don’t think any would’ve made it outside,” said Martin from the kitchen doorway.

“No,” Jon said distantly, “There’s one in here. I know it. I just… Ah!”

He nodded, approaching the couch. He wriggled a hand under one end and tilted it off the ground effortlessly, revealing a dull red mug with the word SPORTS! emblazoned on the side in cartoon yellow letters.

“There,” said Jon. “Could you get that?”

“Hwhaaaaaokay,” said Martin, “Let’s- put that. Down. Slowly.”

Jon gave him a blank look. “I’m not going to break it,” he said, as if that would calm Martin down.

“How are you doing that?” Martin spluttered.

“Oh.” Jon considered the couch. Conveniently, he knew that he was holding most of its 73 kilograms over his head with one arm, and realized why Martin might be concerned. “Forgot about that. It’s easy to get used to.”

“Forgot about what?” said Martin, “Having super strength? How long has- right. Right, that would be since, um... ”

“I’m a bit surprised it still works,” said Jon, sparing Martin from the rest of that sentence. “Everything else has been sort of fading in and out.”

Jon realized too late that Martin had very little concept of what “everything else” was, and, of course, took it the wrong way. “Oh, god,” Martin muttered, “Are you okay?”

"Now that you ask, I’ve been very fragile," said Jon, in a voice so stern and commanding that Martin actually laughed out loud. Immediately, a hand flew up to cover his mouth, but the damage was done. Jon didn't feel fragile. He felt like he could do just about anything in the world to hear that sound again.

To start, though, he struggled to keep a straight face. "I might waste away entirely, at any moment," he continued dramatically,  "Go on, see if I don't!"

"Jon, you- you shouldn't joke about that," said Martin, clearly conflicted between laughing at Jon's theatrics and being concerned.

"Never," said Jon, throwing his free hand to his chest in mock offense. "Joking, about my delicate state? Here, let me put down the couch so I can throw myself onto it."

Martin was present after that in a way that he hadn’t been before. Jon no longer felt a need to check on him every time he disappeared around a corner, as if he might cease to exist if he wasn’t observed directly. This was particularly helpful, since splitting up really did seem to be the only way to search as thoroughly as they needed to. It was nearly three in the morning when they reconvened with a total of eight mugs.

“You’re sure there’s not one in the dishwasher?” said Martin, punctuating his sentence with an enormous yawn.

“Checked,” Jon mumbled, equally tired. “Boxes, what about- did we check in the boxes?”

Martin made an indistinct, doubtful noise.

“There’s some in the hall closet, and in the bedroom,” Jon explained, “Just old papers, maybe it’s there.”

“Fine,” said Martin, “But after that, I’m going to sleep. Eight’s fine.”

Naturally, Martin stationed himself in the hallway. Jon barely stopped short of telling him that he shouldn’t, that he had some very personal, possibly embarrassing documents in there and he’d really rather not risk anyone seeing them.

But he did stop.

He stopped, and he waited.

Under normal circumstances, he would have felt bad for tricking Martin even as indirectly as this, but it was very late at night, and he was reasonably assured that he’d earned a bit of pettiness. Besides, Martin would have to read something of his own volition that he shouldn’t for anything to come of it, which some vestigial instinct in Jon was very acutely interested in. He hauled out box after box from his bedroom closet, not even pretending to search through them, until he saw Martin reading one of the papers.

“Old work for university,” Jon commented loudly, “I think that one was a poetry class.”

He made sure to appear busy when Martin looked up at him.

Martin flipped through the pages with a soft, absolutely enchanted smile while Jon pretended he wasn’t watching. Eventually, he got to one that threw him, and he glanced between Jon and the manuscript with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

“Jon,” he said carefully, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but is this one… A-about-”

“Oh, god, let me see,” Jon sighed. He leaned over Martin’s shoulder to skim over the text, but one look at the title told him everything he needed to know. He smirked, and looked up at Martin. “I’m honestly curious, did you get what I was going for?”

“It’s-” Martin looked dumbfounded, “Is this about Batman? Did you turn in a poem about Batman to a university poetry class?”

“Calling it a class by that point in the semester would be a completely unearned kindness,” said Jon. “They were totally out of control. I was so tired of hearing people go on about the 'tortured nature of the artist,' or some slimy opinion about women, or how goddamn meaningful everyone thought se- Uh. Th-the point, I mean, is, um. I thought I was being clever. I just wanted to see if anyone would stop taking themselves so seriously for long enough to call me out.”

Martin’s expression had frozen in place just short of open shock. He recovered gracefully by the time Jon was done spluttering.

“God, that sounds painful,” he said. He sounded like he meant it. More than that, he sounded like it was something he’d been through. Jon could picture him in a cafe, or maybe a back room in a pub, with a handful of other poets workshopping stuff they’d brought in. It was a strange comfort to know that this image was entirely imagined, and that he didn’t know what, if anything, the reality of the situation was. If he did want to know - which he did - he would have to ask, and Martin would get to choose whether or not to tell him about it.

“Did they say anything?”

“Sorry?" Jon said loudly. A large part of his brain was still processing how close he’d come to complaining to Martin at length about sexy poetry. The rest was daydreaming about having a normal, human conversation with him where that hadn’t just happened.

“Did anyone call you out?” Martin prompted.

Jon took a second to try and flush some of the redness that had taken over his cheeks. It didn’t go very well. “W-well, no. They all went round saying very profound, artistic things until it was someone else’s turn.”

“Yeeeees,” said Martin gleefully, “I mean, it is a good poem about Batman.”

“Why, thank you, Martin.”