#not even close to the horrors that come with owning a minivan

[merakiui]

Omg that doctor!Riddle fic crumb!

Is it hinting to the fact that Riddle is gonna do a two-in-one with reader?? After he hits them with his car, he brings them to his home to keep it a secret. But it takes a long time for so much damage to heal and he’s starting to get attached and his mother said she wanted grandkids didn’t she-

She is rather insistent about how he ought to seriously consider marriage and family because of his age, isn't she? Although for this fic there won't be any baby-trapping or pregnancy or nsfw! Just Riddle navigating two sides: successful, well-respected magic doctor and criminal who hit and nearly killed an innocent person. May he find strength in this fic because I certainly won't give it to him. >:D

I will share another tiny snippet from the fic! This time Riddle is doing some fun mental gymnastics to reach a very crooked rationale.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Mister Spencer (S.R.)

Summary: Reader has a crush on her kid’s teacher. Request: Spencer being a kindergarten teacher and your kid being a student his class, and wow what a beautiful teacher is he, maybe your kid is like is like mommy i found the perfect daddy for our family Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Single Mother Reader Word Count: 3.8k

MASTERLIST

There was a special feeling in the air that night; the cool Virginia breeze carried with it a frantic, albeit happy, energy that was unmatched by any other. It was the evening where parents would brace with a strange mixture of fear, fun, love, and loathing.

It was the night of the annual concert at the local elementary school.

The parents herded their children into minivans and tried to find the willpower to sit through what would almost certainly be an off-key horror with an animal theme. I was doing very much the same.

But there was something odd about my son that night. Each time I would glance back at him, I’d find him staring vacantly out the window like he was missing something. Each time, I would glance over at the empty passenger’s seat and wonder if that was the presence he was missing.

“Are you excited to sing?” I asked.

In my peripherals, I saw him in the rear view, nodding his head in a reserved manner.

I’d thought that was going to be the only answer I got, but that little boy surprised me, as he so often did. In fact, he surprised me both by giving another answer, and the information it contained.

“I think you should sit next to Mister Spencer.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“He teaches the big kids,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Hm…” I hummed as I bought time to consider how sweet it’d been for him to be concerned about who his mother would sit with, if not his father. Then, once that moment had passed, I smiled to myself as I asked, “Is he cute?”

“Gross!” the young boy screeched before quickly correcting, “He’s not cute, he’s cool. Like the coolest person I’ve ever meeted. He knows everything.”

“He sounds pretty great,” I conceded with a sigh.

The lighthearted nature of the conversation would take a swift and painful exit, however. All it took was a mirrored sigh as my son returned to wistfully staring out the window.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I want him to be my dad.”

It felt like a punch to the stomach, and I winced just the same. I tried to keep in mind that he hadn’t considered the weight his words carried and took a deep breath to gather my wits once more after he’d knocked them all out of me.

“Wow. That’s some high praise, kiddo,” I laughed. It was an awkward, uncomfortable laugh, but he wouldn’t know that, nor would he care.

He was a brave, oblivious little boy. I’d raised him to speak his mind when things mattered to him. Of course, now that I’d seen the errors of my ways, I almost regret for teaching him to be so forward. But I was also proud. Proud to have a son that wanted his mom to be happy. But also, a little sad that he clearly missed having a father around.

That was why I forgave him when he urged, “Yeah. You should meet him.”

While eventually I would have to teach him about the oddness of his concern for my romantic life, particularly at his young age, I decided that was not a conversation for the packed elementary school parking lot.

So instead, I just turned and smiled at him. I took on that hushed whisper that denoted secrets of the highest importance, and I giggled with him when I said, “Well, he’d better come find me, then.”

I’d always considered myself to be fairly independent. My being single hadn’t ever bothered me nearly as much as it did that night. I couldn’t blame my son, though. Instead, I would blame the layout of the auditorium and the pesky habit of parents to insist on sitting as close to the stage as possible.

I’d wanted my son to be able to spot me, so I’d sat in a row on my own. It was not because I’d felt painfully inferior to the happy couples happily chatting away before the show began; let that be clear.

Not many people had filtered into the auditorium yet, and I suspected that many would wait to come until their children were ready to perform. So, for now, it was relatively peaceful as we all enjoyed the few, rare moments of peace on a weeknight.

But as the moments dragged on, I found myself scanning the crowd for someone I might be able to pass the time with. And for a second, I found myself wondering which of the men might be the one who’d captured my son’s attention. It was in that moment, looking through a sea of faces for my mystical Prince Charming, that someone caught my attention.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

How I hadn’t noticed the man walking down the aisle was a mystery, but there he stood in his impossible glory. His tall, lanky frame stood awkwardly as he swayed in place and awaited a response from the dumbfounded woman staring at him with a dropped jaw and wonder in her eyes.

“What?” I asked, only to process the question seconds later and nearly shout, “Oh, no, I-I’m alone! You can sit here.”

“Thanks,” he laughed, but I was the thankful one. Thankful that he had taken my odd behavior in stride and chosen to take the seat next to me even though I’d practically yelled him into it.

It was a bit strange, and perhaps a little bit uncomfortable, that he’d chosen the seat directly next to me rather than the others spanning the aisle. But at the same time, he was too adorable with his vintage glasses and scruffy beard that I couldn’t find it in me to suspect him of anything.

So, putting out of my mind what every true crime show I’d ever watched warned me about men like him, I settled comfortably into my seat. Every few seconds, I would glance over at him in my peripheral only to find that he was staring forward at the empty stage.

Until he wasn’t.

“You know,” he started as he glanced over to catch me staring at him with a wide-eyed fascination, “you’ve got the best seat in the house.”

I tried to giggle in response, but the jaded scoff that followed was anything but. The stranger smiled, a small tilt that crept over his cheeks with a healthy confusion. I could feel him trying to read me, and I hoped that he couldn’t tell my feigned skepticism was a front for my complete inability to flirt.

“Let me guess, it’s the best because… it’s next to you?”

Immediately after I said it, I knew it had been a mistake.

“Oh. Wow. No, but—" he started, but our voices turned into an overlapping chaos.

“I’m so sorry!” I shouted, muffling the sound with my hands clamped over my mouth.

“Don’t apologize!” he insisted, and I wouldn’t have believed him if he hadn’t been laughing, “I just — I… would you think that? That’s… That’s very flattering.”

Slowly, I raised my hands from my mouth to cover as much of my face as humanly possible. I stayed there, groaning in embarrassment and hoping that the handsome stranger would leave me alone to wallow in my misery.

But when I did finally find the courage to lower them, he was still staring at me with a warmth and fascination that stirred butterflies to life. Once I uncovered my eyes completely, I noticed for the first time just how pink his cheeks had turned during our catastrophic conversation.

He must’ve noticed my noticing, because it took him very little time to clear his throat and change the subject back to where it ought to be.

“I was going to say that this is where all the speakers converge, so it’s basically the perfect surround sound outside of headphones.”

That time, the blank stare I returned was fitting. Still, he didn’t seem to understand my deadpan until I explained, “… this concert is performed by a bunch of kindergarteners. You’ve just described the worst seat in the house.”

He laughed, a light and honeyed sound among the echoing chatter. Before I knew it, I couldn’t help but smile, no matter how hard I’d tried to keep my cool. The stranger seemed all too comfortable in that awkwardness. He didn’t shy away from it, and instead chose to throw himself into murkier waters in the hopes of finding something valuable at the bottom.

With a small nod towards the stage, he brought my attention to the kids sticking their heads out from behind the curtains. Nervous little eyes glancing for someone to hold onto, the same as I had moments before.

“Which one is yours?” he asked.

And although my son wasn’t yet on the stage, I answered the only way I knew how.

“I am the very proud mother of the one dressed like a lion.”

To my surprise, it took him no time at all to understand what I’d meant.

“Oh, you’re (y/c/n)’s mom?”

On instinct, I answered his question with the more interesting question of, “How do you know my son?”

That odd, beautiful man held out his hand to me in the least inviting handshake I’d ever witnessed. I could see how his fingers shook and his eyes dropped to the floor in a different kind of bashfulness.

“Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. But, uh, I’m sure your son knows me as—"

“Mister Spencer,” I finished. I could hear the lovesick dreaminess in my tone, but I did nothing to stop it. I also chose not to take his hand, and instead placed the tips of my fingers against his to usher him to lower them. I didn’t need to shake his hands to know exactly how they felt. Warm and soft, the same as his smile when he finally raised his eyes back to mine.

“So you do know me,” he confirmed in a hushed tone, like it was the answer he was hoping I’d give.

It all seemed so perfectly fairy tale in its timing that I found myself wondering if I’d been dreaming. Because every time our eyes met it felt like fate, and I had become jaded to such a thing long before that night.

So, I did what any good mother would do. I suspected my child.

“Did he ask you to come talk to me?” I blurted out.

But Spencer just tilted his head to the side. His eyes narrowed as he glanced back at the stage for a moment when he heard the scurry of dozens of little feet.

“No,” he said slowly, unsure of what answer I’d been expecting. Then, with just as much caution he whispered, “Was he supposed to?”

“No, it’s just…” I started. I was going to explain it all away, but before the words could come to me, the lights had started to dim.

He wasn’t so ready to give up.

“What?” he asked.

And that time I smiled when I assured him, “Nothing.”

I guess it was just meant to be.

As the music came and went, I found myself fixated on the stage in the strangest way. That wasn’t to say that I was disappointed or surprised by the quality of the children’s performance, or that I hadn’t been giving him all the encouragement I could from my seat towards the back.

Rather, it was strange because I hadn’t forgotten the near-stranger beside me. In fact, every few moments, I could feel him watching me with a similar kind of longing that I’d felt before.

For the first time in forever, I hadn’t felt alone in the crowd of parents. For once, I’d had someone to share my joy with. Although I’m sure he could’ve dealt without my overdramatic flailing every time my son got a single word right, he didn’t ever do a thing to stop me from nudging or hitting him in my excitement.

Even when it had ended, and I watched a tiny hand wave goodbye to me before vanishing behind the curtain, I didn’t feel embarrassed or awkward in the slightest.

I felt... like my joy mattered.

It was a bold thing, to allow myself to fall for someone so quickly. But when I turned to look at him in the dim light, I realized that I had neglected myself for so long that I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be desired.

So, when Spencer lifted a finger to direct me closer, I went without hesitation.

“You want to know a secret?” he whispered into my ear.

I fought the goosebumps that immediately broke out over every inch of my body, and I tried to focus on the fact that I was, in fact, still a mother at a school function and could not jump this man in the auditorium aisle.

“What?”

“I can get you backstage early to avoid the crowd.”

I giggled at the suggestion made in such a clandestine manner, only to mistakenly alert the others of the secrets happening in the back of the crowd. Once the others turned their attention back to the front, I turned to face Spencer.

Unfortunately for me, I had miscalculated just how close we’d been. Our faces were mere inches apart, and I could see each fleck of hazel eyes in such pristine clarity that it made my breath hitch.

After I recalibrated, I finally responded, “A man after my own heart.”

Although I could’ve written off his initial confusion for my vague non-answer, I’d chosen to believe that he was as distracted by our proximity as I was. But he was a quick learner, and so once he realized that I’d accepted his offer, he jumped into action.

His hand wrapped around mine so freely that I gasped at the contact. To think that he was the same man that had been so afraid to shake my hand only an hour before. An hour of quiet and chaos was all it had taken before the two of us had forgotten the awkwardness of it all.

He all but dragged me from my seat and down the aisle like clumsy, lovesick teenagers at their first movie date. That time, I knew that my incessant giggling would make the others stare — but I didn’t care.

Because it felt like my joy mattered, and for once I wanted to share it with someone else.

Spencer didn’t let go of my hand. As we barreled through familiar, brightly decorated hallways, he kept me close, and he kept me laughing. We didn’t pretend like what we were doing wasn’t silly; we just had fun, anyway.

It made me feel guilty that I’d almost been sad when I saw another teacher. I knew the night was coming to an end, but it didn’t make it any less disappointing when his hand finally left mine.

In a true gentlemanly manner, he stuck by me while I waited for the teacher to return with my little lion. The awkwardness slowly came crawling back into the space between us. But just before it took hold, I decided that I wasn’t going to let it.

Taking a bold step forward in honor of his courage all night, I smiled as I said, “Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”

“It was my pleasure,” he answered. And unlike most men, I believed him.

“My son is a big fan of yours. He said you know everything.”

“I’m sure it seems that way to him,” he laughed with a humble shake of his head before adding on, “If you asked me, though, I’d say I’m pretty clueless.”

I laughed for two reasons. The first was because I deeply related to the imposter syndrome that was interacting with a toddler. The second was because he looked so damned cute with peach cheeks and a nervous smile that I couldn’t contain the happiness in my chest any longer.

Once the sound of our innocent infatuation started to die down, I felt comfortable telling him the conclusion I’d reached within minutes of meeting him. No matter how terrifying it was to be honest, to be vulnerable with someone I barely knew.

“Well. I wanted to say that… I’m a fan of yours, too.”

Because it felt like I’d known him forever. When his eyes softened in response, I swore I saw past lives swimming in the ponds of golden honey. I felt a warmth blossom in my heart until the space between us felt nonexistent.

For the second time that night, I found myself close enough to him that I knew he could feel my unsteady breath. But I wasn’t scared of the closeness; I craved it. And for a moment, I thought that something else might happen. I saw how he tilted his head and inched closer the same as I had.

But, alas, fairy tale things never happen the first night.

“Mommy!” A familiar voice rang through the hall. Its echoes hit me as hard as his tiny body crashing into my open arms at full speed. I only barely managed to not fall backwards, and instead used the inertia to lift him off the ground.

“Hey baby! Oh my gosh, you did so well!” I gushed into the soft fur of his costume. I poured every ounce of love I could into a crushing hug until the little boy started to squirm out of my hold, laughing all the while.

I placed him back down on his feet, which he immediately used to begin bouncing. I couldn’t blame him for being excited. Lord knew I was, too.

“Honestly, I’ve never heard better singing from a lion!” I said with a deathly seriousness, “And I’ve seen Lion King, you know.”

He laughed, and the love that I’d given him returned with full force at the sound. But that little rascal wasn’t done yet. Tiny paws took hold of my hands and tugged until I bent down to his height. From there, I watched him suspiciously eye the man now standing a few feet away.

“Did you sit next to Mister Spencer?” he asked in what I’d suspect he thought was a whisper.

“Yes, I did,” I answered much the same.

The excitement quickly overtook him, and we could no longer pretend like the conversation was private in any way.

“Isn’t he cool?!” he beamed.

I turned my attention to the man of the hour before I answered quietly but honestly, “Yes. He is very cool.”

Spencer raised a hand in a wave, but my son was more than happy to abandon me in order to steal a high-five, instead. I expected nothing different. What I didn’t expect, however, was the way my stomach started doing flips the second I’d seen them together.

“What’s up, bud? You did great out there!” he squeaked.

Just like he’d done to me, my son took his hands and pulled him close before he answered the man with the utmost enthusiasm, “I want you and my mom to get married!”

Time stopped for the both of us as we realized what the little boy had just announced.

We both looked down at him, and then up at each other. And then I panicked.

“Oh, god, okay, time to go!” I shrieked once time started again. I was already clambering to grab hold of the boy by the scruff of his mane as I shouted, “Say bye to Mister Spencer!”

But he held on just as tightly to his teacher’s hand as he continued to explain, “She has cooties, but you can still marry her if you want!”

Eventually, I got hold of him enough that I could clamp my hand over his mouth to dull the noise. I could still hear him trying to talk, as well as feel his tongue as he licked me in an attempt to get me to move my hand. But I was as relentless and stubborn as he, so I did not let go.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I blubbered to the man whose pink cheeks had turned beetroot red.

But in his curious way, he didn’t look to me when he responded. Instead, he turned to the boy who’d just wriggled free from my grip and burst into a maniacal set of giggles.

“For the record, it’s a very compelling offer,” Spencer assured us both, “But… I think you’ve got to let your mom choose who to marry.”

My heart was pounding loud enough that I swore it would bust out of my chest. Somehow, it stayed, though. Even when that man — no longer a stranger, but still overwhelmingly odd — flashed me the most breathtaking smile.

Even when he said with the fullest confidence, “Whoever it is, he would be a very lucky man.”

My arms relaxed. Clutching my son closer, I hid behind his courage and tried to find my own before the moment had passed. Luckily, though, my son was too much like me to let the moment go to waste.

Leaning forward in my arms and cupping a hand beside his mouth, he promised his teacher, “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her more.”

Spencer and I both laughed, and we both tried to hide it. But it seemed silly in hindsight when we saw just how happy it made the little boy in my arms.

“Thanks, bud. I’ll see you on Monday, okay?” Spencer offered to spare me any further humiliation.

Or, at least, that’s what I’d thought he was doing until he tacked on, “You can tell me all about it.”

That was enough for a hopeful child watching his mother fall headfirst in love with his hero. He accepted his win with a complete lack of grace, pumping his arms in the air in triumph as he shouted, “Okay! Bye, Mister Spencer!”

At first, I took off running at the first opportunity. I was too afraid to look back in the event that he wouldn’t be looking back. But after only a few steps, I felt that comfort and longing again. I could feel it like his hand still wrapped around mine. I could feel him almost like a memory.

I glanced over my shoulder to find honeyed eyes and a brilliant smile that had not waned in the slightest. I returned a flustered but flattered smile of my own before I continued on my way, hoping all the while that it wouldn’t be the last time that I’d get to feel so desired.

My son must’ve seen the yearning on my face that I’d recognized in him earlier that night, because I could see from the look that he gave me that he was already scheming.

“You guys are sooo gonna get married,” he snickered.

And once we were out of earshot, I was quick to admit to my favorite little wingman, “God, I hope so.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

REMINDER: I DO NOT WRITE PART 2s.

[itsrayyyyyyyyyy]

Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

this...*MUAH* CHEF’S KISS

I completely forgot about the doll part...I’m sorry T~T

---

ENTANGLED (Yandere!Ghost x Female!Reader)

TW:DARK THEMES, KIDNAPPING, SWEARING, MENTIONS OF DEATH

B/n = Brother’s name

---

A shiver ripped through your body as the cold autumn breeze flew past you from the car window. You pulled your old sweater closer to you as the forest flew past you from the backseat of your mother's minivan. You pulled back from the open window and leaned back in your seat, a yawn leaving your lips and a neutral expression settling on your face. "Y/n, if you're tired, why not take a nap like your brother? It'll be a few more hours until we get to the house." Your father turned in the passenger seat to give you a warm smile as he adjusted his box frame glasses. You turned to your younger brother B/N, who was fast asleep next to you and drooling on his window. You furrowed your brows and let out a small noise of disgust at the sight before turning and rolling up your window, then laying against it. "Alright, Dad. Wake me up when we get there." You sighed as your eyes fluttered closed with the sound of the car and your mother's humming filling your ears.

…Y/n...

..Y/n.

.."Y/N!" 

You jumped at the sound of a voice yelling in your ear. You turn to the side to see your little brother banging on your window. "Come on! Mom and Dad are moving stuff inside already!" He pulled away with a big grin as he ran forward to help your parents. A forlorn sigh left you as you picked up your backpack and climbed out of the car. At the sound of you slamming your car door shut, your mother walks over and wraps her arm around you. "So pumpkin, What do you think of our new home?" She said looking up at the house. You turned towards the house and your eyes widened.

 The house was...old. Like, super old by the looks of it. "Isn't it beautiful? It was created in 1846 by some Swedish architect." You rolled your eyes at her enthusiasm but you wouldn't lie...it was a beautiful building. She saw you roll your eyes and did a drum roll against her leg. "But my lovely daughter that is not all...It is rumored this house is haunted!" She let a feigned evil laugh escape her lips as she rubbed her hands evilly. "Haunted?" "Yes." You quirked an eyebrow as a signal for her to tell you more before she wrapped her arm around you and led you closer to the house. "The creator made this home for his family of 5; him, his wife, and their 3 children. And when the house was under construction, there was an accident. His oldest son was crushed by an unsecured beam, killing him. The creator was so distraught and heartbroken, he couldn't even finish the home even though 2/3's of it had already been completed. He just packed up the rest of his family and left."

As your mother continued telling you about the gruesome history of the new home, you both looked inside from the open front door after hearing a crash. "Honey? What was that?" Your mother said letting you go and approaching the door. "...It was one of your porcelain teacups..." Your father shouted from inside with a worried tone. Your mother screeched in horror before going inside and yelling at your father for breaking one of her prized possessions. You sighed and turned from the house, pulling out your phone and texting one of your friends. As the message sent, you turned off your phone only to freeze. in the reflection of your phone's dark screen, was the front window of the 3rd story. In the window, stood the silhouette of a boy. He looked down at you with a solemn look in his eyes. You quickly turned and looked into the window, only to be met with nothing in the window. You gulped at the memory before grabbing a box next to the steps leading to the door and heading inside.

---

Your eyes snapped open as you lay in the dark of your new room. You sit up from your mattress as it lay on the hardwood and peer out of your window; as the moon peered back at you leaving a thin stream of light across your face. It's been 3 days since you moved in and you can't help but always feel watched; even as you sit on the mattress. You reached over and turned on your lamp as you stood up and walked over to the bookshelf in your room. You slid your fingers against the dark wood before picking up one of your favorite books. You flipped through the pages before stopping at a certain page when something fell out. You peered down at your floor and saw a pressed dandelion. The dandelion lay still in your fingers as you picked it up; then brushing its petals softly. "What a lovely flower." You said quietly with a smile on your face as a thump could be heard across the hall. You gasped quietly at the noise in alarm as you placed the flower and the book on top of the bookshelf.

You shuffled across the floor towards the door and pressed your ear against it to hear something, only to be met by the sound of your heartbeat. You exhaled as you slowly turned the doorknob and peered into the dark hallway towards the noise; it had come from your bother's room. You took your phone from your pajama shorts and turned on the flash as you walked closer to your brother's room. The floor creaked and groaned as you passed through the hallway. You quickly reached for the doorknob and turned it, hearing a click as it opened. You flashed your light in your room to see your brother hunched over on the floor next to the window. You called out his name but when you received no response, you quickly came behind him and turned him. He looked back at you with different eyes. You stumbled back in shock before falling on your butt next to him. He stared at you with unnerving eyes before he slowly began to stand, but something was wrong; very wrong. As he stood, his body began cracking, twisting, and twitching. He became taller and skinnier, and his skin became deathly pale. The boy who stood before you was not your brother. Right before you let out a scream, a thin and brittle hand covered your mouth as eyes as black as ebony stared back at you. "Shh my love, there is no need to be frightened." The boy spoke with a small smile. You grabbed his arm and tried to remove it but his other arm came to wrap around your waist, before pulling you against his chest. You pushed hard against him, trying desperately to escape but he was surprisingly very strong for someone who looked so fragile and weak.

 "Who are you?" Your trembling voice spoke once your arms grew tired. "I am Stephen, my love. And finally after so so long, I found my one true love." He spoke while stroking your back carefully. "What the fuck are you talking about, and what have you done with my brother?" You yelled as Stephen gripped you tighter. "Don't you see my love? For us to be together, I had to take his body and make it my own. I knew I had to the moment I saw you enter this place for the first time." You stopped and stared at him. It felt like the world was crumbling around you. "That...isn't possible." Your voice trembled as tears began to form in your eyes. "Oh, but it is my love and now we can be together." You felt him hit you over the head with something as your vision became spotty. But right before you slipped into unconsciousness, you heard him.

 "We can be together forever."

[cupiiid]

the poets' favourite musicals

neil: spring awakening. i will fight you all on this. i mean- come on!! this boy would vibe to the bitch of living at least three times a week. he would also HEAVILY relate to moritz. i will die on this hill. (bonus: when neil showed todd the song left behind, he cried and neil never played that song for him again)

todd: i think todd would like anastasia. i just feel like he'd like the music and listen to songs like once upon a december and a crowd of thousands to sleep when his anxiety gets bad. he'd also relate to anastasia because both of them are just trying to find their place in the world.

charlie: kinky boots. do i even need to explain? (second favourite is the rocky horror picture show)

knox: mama mia. it fits his whole vibe. i feel like he'd always request it to be played on roadtrips and went to see the movie at least six times when it came out. grease is a very close second for him.

meeks: i think meeks would like the lion king. i don't really have a true explanation for this one, i can just see him vibing along to all of the songs and listening to them while he studied and stuff.

pitts: pitts LOVES shrek the musical but literally no one else (besides neil ofc) can stand it because they have NO taste so whenever they're driving in cameron's minivan together (cameron totally owns a minivan) and he asks for the aux cord, they make sure whatever he plays isn't shrek the musical.

cameron: he acts like he despises musicals and shits on all the others for listening to them but secretly he loves classic musicals like the sound of music and phantom of the opera. (not that he'd ever admit it obviously)

[thefanficmonster]

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze. 

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway. 

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on. 

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“ 

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else. 

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

[breaddaerb]

I love the killjoy and reyna headcanons :D i kinda cant stop thinking abt a scenario where the two of them goes on a mission and only reyna comes back. I like to imagine that some of the agent might think that reyna did something to killjoy hehehe

[ reyna & killjoy III ]

✎↷: oh boy,, here’s the tea!

reyna did something to killjoy, actually. no, she didn’t kill the girl, but they had some.. personal debts to settle. what actually happened was that killjoy was reassigned on another mission, as well as the need to travel somewhere else since they were currently stationed in germany. reyna wasn’t required to stay, obviously, and she left before brimstone could tell her otherwise. what the agent was up to in her free time didn’t interest reyna in the slightest, and she wouldn’t be bothered to go out of her way for that kind of effort.

they still fought and bickered often, though. their relationship never really improved, but they could at least acknowledge that they were at least required to breath in the same room together, as little as they liked it. it was the slightest improvement that would temporarily get brimstone off of both of their backs, and that was more than enough in the meantime. killjoy was better at rejecting reyna from the midst of her mind whenever she worked anyways, and it looked like the duelist had her own methods too.

when reyna returned to the base, the only people who weren’t startled were the older cast of the members, aside from viper. skye was aware because of reyna’s various texts back to her during their trip, while the others were reasonably sourced through brimstone himself. that left reyna to deal with raze’s horrors when she noticed her best friend not dragging herself out of the minivan like she usually did.

the brazilian was noticeably energetic— in the bad way, because her fingers dug into reyna’s shoulders with scarily great strength as the smaller woman throttled the mexican. “reyna!” she gasped, eyes darting around in search of the bright yellow jacket. the vampire squinted at raze, endeared but mildly concerned for her dear friend’s sanity. for someone so small, raze had a lot of firepower in her, being able to shift even the other duelist off of her balance. “where’s killjoy? she’s here, isn’t she? she promised me that we could play beyblade tonight!”

her concerns at face value are placed elsewhere, but the engineer almost always means well when it comes to her german best friend, as much as reyna disliked it. she could never talk sense into raze about how terrible killjoy was as a person because the brazilain would ignore her or shut her down each and every time, leaving the mexican to stew in her frustration. this was clear in raze as she came close to bending reyna backwards during her desperation, bewildered that the woman didn’t answer her.

“i took care of her, raze, don’t worry,” she cooed nonchalantly; gently like she was talking to a child. but what you have to understand folks, is that raze is no child. if she was that’d be even more destructive, but she was, at core, a person who liked to live with no regrets and move at the speed of sound. effective, and with fun! killjoy was a longtime friend that she and breach had met during some of their first raids of kingdom together, and the engineer became fast frenemies with them.

she freaks out. raze goes quiet, her bursting energy silencing as quickly as a swatted fly. her eyebrows furrow, and the engineer frowned up at reyna. “..took care of her? reyna, that isn’t why she’s really not back, right?” she pressed, nausea stirring in her stomach. reyna doesn’t know any limits, and she pushed the girl further, patting her on the head and removing her from her arms. “oh, no, no, darling. i finished her off for good. simple explanation, easy as taking candy from a baby.”

reyna did not expect raze to sucker punch her in the gut.

[thegoodgayshit]

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Twenty-Four: We Help Out Willow’s Big Brother

Luz’s legs were burning.

She was pretty sure she’d never had to walk this far in her entire life. She’d been hiking a couple of times with her Tia Rosa when she was younger, but she definitely hadn’t enjoyed it. And it definitely hadn’t been more than an hour.

The walk down the highway hadn’t been that bad. They’d stayed off to the side of the road, and even been picked up by a nice mom in a minivan at one point. They’d told her that Gus’ dad had a fishing house along Turquoise Lake, and she’d dropped them off right at the edge of the highway. That had probably cut them about an hour of walking, but it was still slow and brutal.

Eventually, the highway had ended and a dirt road took its place. That’s when they started to move uphill. Luz could handle the straight line, but she was wearing vans and wasn’t at all interested in uphill climbing in flat shoes.

After about an hour and a half of moving along this uphill climb, Luz doubled over, clutching her stomach.

“Can we take a quick break? I’m dying here.”

Willow was more than happy to agree with Luz, dropping into a squat right next to her. “Sure, I’m beat.”

“I don’t know guys,” Amity said with a frown. Somehow, throughout the entire hike, she didn’t look even the slightest bit tired. She was sweating a little along her brow but otherwise looked unfazed. “We shouldn’t stop here. We’re exposed.”

“Don’t you guys think it’s a little strange we haven’t run into a single monster?” Gus added. He also looked a little worse for wear, he had shed his button-up and was now just in a t-shirt and jeans. But he was worrying his lower lip, looking around like they would be ambushed at any second. “I mean, we’re four demigods walking in a group, closing in on Mount Pelion. We couldn’t be bigger targets if we tried.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Willow deadpanned, taking a huge swig of water from one of the bottles they’d bought in Leadville. “I really don’t have the energy to fight a monster right now. We’ve been hiking for two and a half hours.”

“If we’re going to take a break, I think we should at least do it in the trees and out of sight,” Amity suggested, and Luz nodded, straightening back up.

“That’s fine with me, any break is a good break.”

They walked off the dirt road and down a little trail until they ended up a creek. Finding a good spot to sit along some rocks, Willow handed everybody a protein bar. Luz collapsed pretty ungracefully along a rock and closed her eyes.

“This is brutal,” she groaned, “and it’s only going to get more intense the higher up we get.”

“It depends actually,” Amity added with a shrug. “We might have to make our way around the mountain in a spiral. Lots of trails don’t go straight up.”

“How do you know all that?” Willow asks, and Amity tucks her arms around her knees.

“I live in the area, remember? My siblings and I go on hikes all the time during the school year.”

“So do you know the trail up Mt. Elbert?” Gus asks, and Amity shakes her head.

“No, we’re not allowed to go near Mount Pelion. I’ve done Mt. Evans a couple of times though.”

“Well that explains how you’re like, not even out of breath at all,” Luz says with a teasing smile. “You’ve got some superhuman hiking strength.”

Amity blushes, rubbing the back of her neck. “It just takes practice. Eventually, you stop noticing the burn in your calves.”

“Ugh, I wish,” Gus groans. “Mine feel like I’ve just run a marathon.

“Do you think we’re going to make it up the mountain before dark?” Willow asks, and Amity immediately shakes her head.

“We shouldn’t, even if we are in a hurry. The higher we get, the more brutal the winds are going to be. It’s just after noon, so we should hike a little longer before we take a break and look for camp.”

“Ok, then let’s get moving,” Luz said, and when she stood up, every muscle in her legs protested. “The sooner we get there the sooner we can stop.”

They started to make their way back to the dirt road, walking in pairs. Amity was leading the charge with Gus next to her, and Luz and Willow hung back, their feet dragging a little more than they would have cared to admit.

They were almost back at the dirt trail when Amity suddenly stopped cold, and Luz wasn’t really paying attention, so she just slammed into her back. Amity stumbled, but Luz reached forward and caught her arm, pulling her back.

“Sorry,” Luz mumbled, but Amity just held up her hand. It was so unlike Amity that Luz quieted immediately, as did Willow and Gus, who were now looking around the clearing with nervous eyes.

“Did you hear that?” Amity whispered, stiffening up.

Luz was quiet, listening to her surroundings as her friends did the same. At first, there was nothing. Just the rush of the creek and the swaying of the trees. But then…

RHEEEEEEEEE!

Luz was so startled by the cry, she jumped right back into Willow, who held her shoulders and kept her steady. Gus and Amity called out their shields, holding a protective barrier in front of them, but it wasn’t needed. The cry had come from somewhere deeper in the trees, and following that right away was another cry, this one human.

A very angry human, cussing so badly her Mami would have washed their mouth out with soap.

Then, another cry from whatever had made that noise.

“Someone’s in trouble!” Willow exclaimed, and all four demigods summoned their weapons. Aletheia spun into a sword, and Luz caught it, and charged through the forest with her friends, her previous exhaustion forgotten.

“What kind of monster is that?” Luz cried out as they sprinted through the trees. There was no doubt it was something from their world. No bear or wolf made a noise like that.

“I have a couple of ideas!” Gus offered, doing his best to keep up and not trip on the rocky ground. “None of them good!”

“Sounds about right,” Luz groaned, before deciding to just focus on running.

Amity eventually skidded to a complete stop right as they broke through a clearing in the trees, and Luz stopped a lot more dramatically next to her, her dominant foot slipping and resulting in Aletheia being held up against her face protectively. When Luz looked past Amity’s shoulder at what was making the sound, she gawked.

In the middle of the clearing, there was a gorgeous white and blue farmhouse, with a huge porch. Luz could make out a clothesline hanging from the top of the porch, and a couple of wicker sitting chairs. There was a variety of hanging plants in the garden, and a huge wreath over the door. And the clearing? It was huge.

In fact, the clearing wasn’t a clearing at all. It was more like a twenty-acre farmers' field, just sitting off the dirt road in mountain country. Luscious green vegetables were growing in the fields, along with potatoes, corn, beans, an orchid of apples, and there was even a gods forsaken red barn smack in the center of it with a couple of animals milling about. The enough was enough to shock Luz since she was pretty sure the soil quality up here couldn’t be great. They looked like they could be in Missouri, not Colorado.

But the biggest shock wasn’t the farm. It was the farmer standing just away from the front porch. The farmer’s huge hands were clasping a boar by the tusks, stopping it from charging. He grunted with effort, gritting his teeth and digging his boots in the dirt, his muscles rippling under a green flannel button up.

Luz had never seen a boar before, but she was pretty sure they were supposed to be that big. It was easily the size of a sedan, with massive beady eyes, and it was doing everything in its power to push against the farmer. It’s feet stamped into the ground furiously as it pushed, and Luz saw the farmer tense as he was pushed back an inch in the dirt, and all the shock drained from her body.

“We have to help him!”

Luz charged forward, her friends at her heels. She approached the boar with a furious yell, and with a quick swing, she managed to take the boar by surprise and cut one of the tusks off sending it spinning into the dirt. The boar was now moving off-balance, diverting away from the farmer and charging in another direction. The farmer stumbled and dropped to one knee.

Gus and Amity charged at the boar with their weapons and shields, keeping it away from the crops. Willow had already leaned down to help up the farmer.

“Are you alright?”

He took her hand and stood, brushing his hands down his dirty jeans. “Thanks, kid,” he said to Willow, his voice gruff and heavy with a deep southern drawl. “I’ll be just fine. But we better go help your friends, cuz’ they ain't’ gonna be fine for long.”

Luz spun around, and her eyes widened in horror. The boar had turned on Gus now and had knocked his shield out of his hand with it’s one good tusk and sent it spinning into the dirt. He stabbed forward with his spear, managing to turn the boar away from him, but now it had focused on Amity, rearing back to charge.

“Amity!”

Luz ran forward, but there was no way she could outrun the boar. Amity didn’t seem to need her help though, because as it charged she sidestepped, managing to graze the side of it with her sword. It wasn’t nearly enough to send it running, but it did squeal and give Luz, Willow, and the farmer enough time to make it to the other two demigods.

They readied their weapons, the five of them standing together and watching the boar murderously. Seeming to realize it was outnumbered, the boar huffed in anger, before turning tail and fleeing, exiting through the trees and out of sight.

Luz exhaled, turning to her friends in terror.

“What was that thing?”

“The Crommyonian Sow,” Gus said, his voice very small as he retracted his spear and picked up his sword. “The mother to the Calydonian Boar. It terrorized the village Crommyon and was later killed by Theseus.”

“Theseus?” Luz asked, her voice quickly rising in anger. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“It’s not, Luz,” Amity said, and Luz’s gaze flickered up to look at her. Her eyes were wide, but not because of the run-in with the boar. “Your dream!”

Luz paled, and Willow and Gus turned to look at her in confusion.

“What dream?” Willow asked, and Luz recalled the dream she’d had of the mountain, from the fight between Theseus and Achilles, Belos’ order, and the Death Mist. When she’d finished, they both had gone pale as well.

“His exact words were ‘stop them before they find us’?” Gus repeated, fidgeting uncomfortably. “That can’t be good.”

“The Sow started showin’ up today, but it’s come back roun’ here three times lookin’ for trouble,” the farmer said, and Luz jumped, forgetting he was standing there. When Luz and her friends turned to look at him, he stuck his hands in his jean pockets, giving them a white smile.

Luz wasn’t sure how old he was, maybe somewhere in his early thirties? He had curly dark hair and a scruffy beard that made him look like a lot of the dads that dropped their kids off at Luz’s school in the morning. He had a deep tan, and his eyes were a dark green, that twinkled in a way that Luz pegged right away as not human.

Though she should have figured that out already based on the way he held back a boar with his bare hands.                                                                                

“I’m Demophon,” he said with a little smile. “Why don’t you kids come inside for some lemonade.”

Demophon’s house was really homely. It was an old farm style, with a lot of wooden furniture, and the décor was mainly light greens and blues. In the living room next to a couple of couches was a huge brick fireplace, sitting barren and unused. They sat down at the kitchen table that overlooked the farm fields, and Demophon returned from the kitchen with two pitchers of lemonade and plates of snacks: cookies, fresh veggies and fruit, and sandwiches.

They probably should have been more cautious, considering they didn’t really know anything about Demophon, but they were so hungry they couldn’t care less. Luz’s stomach grumbled in delight as she dug into a little tuna sandwich, washing it down so quickly with lemonade she barely tasted it.

“Thank you so much for the food, Mr. Demophon,” Amity said between bites, and he just shook his head.

“Demophon is fine, Amity. It’s my pleasure to help you kids on your quest.”

The four of them perked up, now looking at him with surprise. The farmer chuckled, but Luz noticed a slight lift in her shoulders. She did the same thing when she was worried about something.

“Yes, I know all about your quest. My mother sent me a message earlier this month lettin’ me know you migh’ be stopping by… and that you were on your way to free Lady Hestia.” For a moment, his nerves disappeared as he turned to Willow, his green eyes twinkling in pleasure. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, little sister.”

Willow dropped her sandwich on the plate, looking up at him in shock. Luz felt her mouth drop open and saw Amity and Gus tense next to her. Willow, eventually, was able to reply.

“You’re my brother?”

Demophon hummed, taking a seat next to them. He crossed his huge calloused hands together on the table and smiled. “Well, in a sense. Demeter is more of my adopted mother. But over the many centuries I’ve been alive, I have come to grow fond of her.”

“You’re Triptolemus’ brother,” Gus said, his voice lowering in realization. Demophon chuckled.

“Trip is my older brother yes. Though he rarely visits. He has many other duties to attend to.”

“But how… how are you alive?” Gus said in awe, and Luz realized that Willow and Amity were leaning in, desperate to hear his story. Luz really needed to brush up on her Greek mythology. Maybe she’d take it as her elective when she went back to school.

“What do you mean how is he alive?” Luz asked, blinking. “He’s a god, obviously.”

“No, Luz Noceda,” Demophon said with a shake of his head. He settled his warm green eyes on Luz with a smile. “I am no god. But I am immortal.”

Luz’s brow furrowed. “How is that different?”

“Demeter is the goddess of the harvest, but also fertility,” Demophon explained, nodding his head to Willow. “My birth parents were favored by my mother, just as Willow’s fathers were. In exchange for their adoration, Demeter sought to make me a god in their honor. She is the mother of the Olympians and worked with Hestia to have me stoked on their fires and made immortal. But halfway through the process, my birth mother found me on the fire and screamed, rippin’ me off the flames. The process was never finished, but it was too late to turn back. I was made immortal, but due to my… imperfection… I was never accepted into the Greek pantheon. So, mother let me have this farm here near Mount Pelion, and that’s where I’ve stayed.”

“Why weren’t you accepted?” Amity asked in shock when he finished. She was looking Demophon up and down. “You look godly to me. You held back that sow with your bare hands, and you certainly haven’t aged over the centuries.”

“There is more to being a god than just strength and immortality,” Demophon answered, his voice turning wistful as he talked. “You need drive: godly essence that comes from owning and having. You need to stand for something and have mortals who respect and favor you. Mortals don’t see me as a person who can grant them good fortune and prosperity, and I have no claim over any aspect of humanity.”

“Because the legends said you died in the fire when your mother found you,” Willow said, her mouth open wide with shock and realization. Demophon shrugged.

“Mortals rarely get the full story, and so they fill in the gaps with what they want to see. Complex situations confuse em’. I think you know what I mean, little sister.”

Willow flushed, and Luz realized that maybe Demophon had a point. Willow was teased for being “half a half-blood”, but she was one of the strongest demigods Luz knew. The more Luz looked at Demophon, the more sympathy she felt for him. It must be incredibly lonely, living for this long and never being accepted into the mortal world or the godly one.

“I’m sorry we brought the monster to your farm,” Luz said slowly, and Demophon looked over at her with the tiniest hints of a smile.

“Now, now of that, Luz. I’m no fool, and unless you’re the man that sent that beast, I have no quarrel with you. But you kids ain’t safe heading up the mountain until that monster’s been taken care of.”

Demophon stood up and went into the kitchen, but came back relatively quickly. He had a cloth package in his hands, which he handed to Willow.

“These are some of my mother’s apples. She has me grow them here in case harvest on Olympus is poor. It never is, so I always have plenty. When you need a boost, take a bite. Hopefully, it helps you on your quest.”

Willow held the package so gently in her hands, it was like she was afraid they would disappear. She looked up at Demophon in awe.

“These apples… they haven’t been trusted to mortals in centuries. Why would you give us something like this?”

Demophon’s face suddenly went dark.

“I want Belos gone just as much as the Olympians do. Hestia is the reason I’m here, able to tend to my farm and my livestock. She’s always been kind to me… kind to all who cross her path and say hello.”

He looked over at the huge fireplace in his living room, which was completely dark. His eyes were fixated on it, like the sight of it alone physically pained him.

“My fire hasn’t lit since she was taken,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on those last few words. “Without her, all the love and light and happiness that we know will fade from existence. Somebody needs to stop him, and get her back. If I were not bound to this farm, I would go up the mountain myself. I will do anything I can to help you.”

Demophon sat back down at the table and went back to cradling his calloused hands in his lap. Luz was suddenly struck with a pang of homesickness. Demophon did the same thing with his hands her Mami did when she was worrying herself sick about something. He was just as scared about the success of the quest as they were.

“You seem to admire Hestia a lot,” Luz said quietly, so quietly she wasn’t sure anybody would hear her. But Demophon looked up, and so did her friends, turning to look at Luz. She glanced at Amity, for only half a second, and realized that she was watching Luz with a careful expression.

Had she overstepped?

Demophon met Luz’s gaze, and that’s when Luz saw it. It was the same look Amity gave her when she was grappling with a decision. To tell or not to tell.

“I’ve had so few people I could truly call a friend while I’ve worked this farm,” he eventually said, glancing over at the fire. “I could always rely on Hestia to show whenever I lit that fire and passed on my offerings. There are so few certainties in a life as long as mine. If you were in my place, would you be happy with that changing in the blink of an eye?”

“No,” Luz said immediately. She couldn’t imagine just sitting at her Mami’s apartment while her friends were in danger. She’d do anything to protect Willow and Gus. She’d do anything to protect Amity.

She’d move the entire mountain by herself if she had to.

She opened her mouth to reply, to assure Demophon that they would do everything they could to save her, but she didn’t get the opportunity to. Because Amity spoke next, swallowing hard before shaking her head.

“I’ll get her back,” Amity said, leaning in to look Demophon in the eye.

It was so surprising Luz couldn’t help but turn and look at Amity out of the corner of her eye. Amity’s expression was startling. Her face looked exactly like how Luz was feeling.

“I’ll break her out of the cage and make Belos pay no matter what happens. I swear it on the River Styx.”

Outside, thunder rumbled. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Willow and Gus were looking at Amity with a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Luz didn’t really know what was happening, but judging by the equally as awed look Demophon was giving her, whatever she’d done was pretty serious.

“You don’t know what you’re promising me, kid,” Demophon tried, but Amity shook her head, leaning in again with such a ferocity Luz couldn’t look away no matter how hard she tried.

“I do know,” she insisted, reaching forward and gently resting her hand over his. “I know that nobody deserves to have someone taken from them. Being around the people you love makes life worth living.”

Willow cracked a small smile, nodding her head and leaning forward to rest her hand on top of Amity’s.

“She’s right. I’ll help too.”

“Me too!” Gus added, reaching forward to put his own hand on top of Willows.

Luz broke into a grin, nodding and adding her own hand to the now growing pile. “Obviously I’m in too. We’ll free Hestia, even if Theseus throws a hundred more stupid pig-boars at us.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t,” Amity deadpanned, and Luz laughed, hard enough that everyone at the table cracked into smiles. Even Demophon, who was looking so grateful Luz thought he might start crying.

“Thank you, kids,” he said, wiping at his face. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“We do know. That’s why we want to help,” Luz insisted, her whole body vibrating with adrenaline at what they were about to do. “Now let’s go make some pork chops.”

[always5hineee]

The Final Bell- Chapter 15: Exodus (Part 1)

Chapter warnings: Mild language

Word count: 1412

Story is also available under Taffysamg on Quotev and Wattpad.

To see the full chapter list, go to the “Final Bell” Tab on my page.

-----

       "Please, just consider it?" Taeyong begged as they sat around the fire. Johnny shook his head.

       "No dice, your majesty. I fly solo." He said in return, pulling a spit with some unknown meat out from over the open flame. "I appreciate your generosity, I really do, but I'll be fine on my own." Taeyong wasn't going to settle easily, though. They had walked to Johnny's camp, only to find that he didn't have any gas. Johnny suggested that they head to a tiny town another mile West. He said that it had barely been touched since the epidemic, and they could easily hotwire a car to truck an assload of gas back to their abandoned van. After receiving this information, though, Taeyong had asked Johnny to start accompanying them. While it was unclear whether he even planned to board a ship with them, he certainly wasn't planning on carpooling.

       "This is ridiculous, Johnny. It's much safer to come with us."

       "Forget about me, I've made it this long. You should be more worried about Taeil. Where is he again?"

       "Headed Northeast. We'll get in contact once we get back to the van- might take us a day, though. That's not my concern right now, though! Please, I promise we won't be too much of a bother. It's just more practical."

       "I understand, but-"

       "Doyoung!" Taeyong called. Sparking to attention, he walked over.

       "Yeah?"

       "What are the statistics of death rates in groups versus solidarity?"

       "Uh..." Doyoung looked at his laptop- why was he even carrying that around? After typing a few things in, he shrugged. "I can tell you the third highest leading cause of death is a fatal accident. Also most people die alone." Taeyong looked at Johnny as if the fact had completely proved his point.

       "See? It's better in a group."

       "Oh, is that why Haechan and Yuta are still alive?" He asked. Everyone went silent. For a moment, it seemed like even the fire had paused its crackling in horror. "Sorry, that was uncalled for." Johnny muttered. "But my answer is still no."

       "It's... fine." Taeyong said in return, just as awkwardly.

       "If you're so worried about people being alone, you should get on the road, go get your boy."

       "Oh, that's right, the sooner we go get that car, the sooner we can pick up Taeil." Jungwoo interjected, happy to break up the tension. Taeyong stood, sighing.

       "I'm sure we'll pass you on the way back. Radio me if you change your mind." And with that, they were off once more.

       The walk to the next town wasn't bad at all- as Johnny had said, it was just over a mile. At first, Y/N was curious as to how they hadn't known about it. After all, it would have been easier for them to all just come here. Once they arrived, though, it was clear that the place wouldn't have appeared on any map. It could barely be called a town- more like a severely large neighborhood.

       There were maybe... 50 houses? That was a rough estimate. There was indeed a gas station, as well as two restaurants and three stores. There were maybe three stoplights as far as she could tell. Taeyong looked out over all of it.

       "Alright, everyone- let's be as quick as possible. Doyoung, you know how to hotwire a car, so how about you take Mark and Y/N and pick us out a new temporary ride. Y/N, let's have you drive since Taeil is gone." She didn't know if Doyoung or Mark could drive, but they both seemed a bit uneasy about that decision. She wasn't going to ask why.

       "I'll take Jungwoo and Jaehyun to go grab as many gas containers as we can fill. Drive the car back to the gas station as soon as possible so you can help us out. Sound good?" They weren't really in a position to complain. Walking off into the center of the town, the two boys with Y/N were completely silent. Trying to make conversation, she pointed out a car.

       "How about that one?" She asked.

       "Too small." Doyoung commented. "It needs to fit 7, potentially 8."

       "Alright, well..." She saw a minivan. "That one?"

       "Ugly." Mark said in return. Growing annoyed, she clicked her tongue.

       "Whatever, you guys find one." She grumbled.

       "Aww, what's the matter, Y/N?" Mark taunted. "Grumpy now that your boyfriend isn't here?"

       "Taeil is not my boyfriend." She shot back.

       "Oh, right, you just make out with anyone. Well, I guess there are plenty of options, hmm? I wonder who's next! Maybe Taeyong? Or Jungwoo- strong silent type. Oh! You could go back to Johnny and-"

       "What is your problem?" She seethed, glaring at him. "I told you, it wasn't my intention for anything to happen! Go yell at Taeil if you have a problem, he started it!"

       "My problem? Stop trying to hook up with the entire camp, maybe!"

       "I bet you're just jealous." She stuck her tongue out rudely. Right as he was about to yell back, Doyoung called them over.

       "Guys, get in. We're using this one." The bickering duo looked over to where Doyoung was. He was looking through the open passenger door of a silver Nissan. It wasn't the classiest, but it would certainly do- and he had gotten it running while they were fighting.

       "What if I wanna drive?" Mark asked, annoyed.

       "You can't." Doyoung said shortly. "Plus, even if you could, Taeyong said Y/N was doing it." Nervous, she jumped into the drivers' seat, looking at everything in front of her. Obviously, it was already running, so no need for the keys or the ignition. Making sure that the doors were closed and the mirrors were adjusted, she looked to the boys.

       "Seatbelts, please." Both groaned, but reluctantly put them on. Shifting the car into drive, she headed back towards the gas station where the other three were already piling gas.

       "Oh, you're just in time!" Taeyong called as she pulled up. "Here, pop the trunk, we'll load up."        

       "Isn't it a little dangerous to just have loose gas in the back of a car?" Jaehyun asked skeptically.

       "I'm sure it'll be fine." The leader replied, grabbing as many of the little red containers as he could carry. It only took about five minutes to load up, and it was so efficient that Mark and Doyoung didn't even have to help. Once they were done, the other three jumped in as well. Taeyong was the only one who instinctively buckled- Doyoung had moved to give him shotgun.

       "Alright, let's had back to Johnny's!"

       "Wouldn't it be faster to just go straight for the van?" Jaehyun mentioned, confused. Of course, everyone knew this was true. In addition, everyone also knew why Taeyong wanted to go back to Johnny's camp. They didn't have time to argue with him, though, they needed to pick up Taeil.

       "We'll see him again." Y/N said comfortingly as she pulled out of the tiny town, heading East. As they drove over the rocky terrain, Jaehyun and Mark did everything they could to heckle her abilities with the vehicle. It was starting to annoy her, as she had thought she bonded with Mark after the unfortunate turn of events that occurred prior. Now he was almost as vehement as Jaehyun. It was worse, too, since he had a reason. She wasn't sure why the Taeil situation bothered him so much, but it evidently did. She wasn't going to hash it out in front of their entire crew, though, so she supposed it would just have to wait. Still, it didn't stop them from constantly bombarding her with commentary.

       "Left as in that way!"

       "The wheel- yeah, that turny thing? That's what makes us go where we wanna!"

       "I could drive better in reverse!"

       "The long skinny pedal, Y/N, come on! We don't have all day!"

       "What are you, crazy?!" Finally, Taeyong turned around, glaring at the both of them.

       "That's enough. Another word out of you two, and you don't get any dinner." The threat of missing out on food just barely managed to get them to shut up, but she still occasionally heard them snickering to each other about who knew what. She silently promised herself not to let it bother her. Thankfully, her prayers were soon answered as the silhouette of a city appeared in the distance.

       "We're here."

Go to Chapter 16

[fallenfurther]

Day 22 - Memory

Virgil took the canvas off his bedroom wall. It had been there a while and he needed something new. Carrying it carefully, he took it down to his store cupboard, which he had specially designed for the storage of canvas paintings. Virgil placed the canvas into its designated storage case before stepping back and reviewing the room.

Virgil didn’t have a particular painting in mind like he normally did when he wanted a change of scene, however he had a desire to put up some of his earlier work. He walked along the cases until he reached the ones which had been in storage longest. The cases around him now contained the paintings he’d done in his teenage years. His hands carefully slid open the top drawer of the case containing paintings he’d done during Art Club. Most had been thrown away as they were small and incomplete from where he had been practising the various techniques demonstrated to the class of budding artists. Virgil had kept most of the completed paintings that he had done, some of which had been entered into inter-school art competitions, and even won prizes.  

The first draw contained black and white paintings, one a portrait of John, another of a street everyone had been instructed to paint and one of the school herb garden. Virgil had wanted to paint a picture of his older brother but pinning him down had been hard and Virgil knew John would sit still, especially as Virgil let him sit with a book. Virgil was proud of how be managed to capture John, sitting in a window reading, with half his face in shadow. His teacher had been really impressed and would have displayed in had Virgil not convinced her not to, knowing John would prefer it that way. John’s body had definitely changed during his teenage years, but the character was still noticeably him.

Moving onto the next drawer down, there were a few still life paintings, two were in impressionist style. Virgil quickly moved on, knowing the next three drawers contained what he wanted. He realised he wanted a landscape, something to remind him that there was something else, other than the island and rescues. They were also some of his favourites to paint, especially at school, as he would often go on the fortnightly painting day trip. The art teachers would pick a location and load a minivan with supplies, from oil pastels to watercolour to acrylic, canvases and a picnic lunch, then drive them to an unannounced location where the artists were let lose to be creative. Most of the teachers would join, their own creations slowly coming to life. They had been some of Virgil’s best days at school, relaxing with a paintbrush in a random field, just painting and living in the moment, entirely carefree.

The first drawer contained more industrial landscapes, such as the town centre and the local airfield. Scott had hung that painting on the wall in his room for a while, as Virgil had managed to capture an old P-51 Mustang taking off. It had been replaced by a painting of a A-10 Thunderbolt II Virgil had done for him as a birthday present, after Scott had told him how much he had enjoyed flying it during one of the training courses he’d done in the air force.

The second drawer contained more traditional landscapes, there was one of a river winding through a green valley, but it was the landscape which he’d painted at the top of the rocky hill that he pulled from the drawer. There had thankfully been only a light breeze that day, and the sun had shone amazingly through the scanty clouds. The way the sun hit the hills in the distance, the wooded area on one side slowly petering out to be replaced by fields of corn on the other. Looking at the composition made him smile and brought a lightness to his heart. This was the painting he wanted to ponder and gaze over for the next month. Placing in against the cabinet behind him, he slid the drawer closed. The next drawer contained bleaker landscapes, painted on days when the weather was bad or not ideal.

Just as Virgil was about to stand, his eyes rested on the bottom drawer. He couldn’t remember what he had stored in it. Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled it open. A grin crossed his face as he looked at the single canvas that occupied the drawer. It was a painting he done when he was ten, and although not one of his best pieces, it had been the best one he’d done at the time. It was a painting of the family farm. Virgil remembered pouring his heart into the painting, the grief for his mother fuelling his need to paint that day. He had been so proud of the painting, and he remember the way grandma had held him after she had watched him sign his name at the bottom. His father was away that weekend and Virgil was eager to show him on his return, however his father had never seen it as grandma had. Virgil had left the painting in his room, against the wall by his desk, and he’d left his paints open on the desk as he had been planning to start a new one before being called to do chores. Upon his return, less than an hour later, he’d found Gordon and Alan in his room, both covered in his precious paints. He’d screamed, causing everyone to come running. Scott and John had just stood there in shock while Grandma fumed. She’d grabbed the two paint covered boys and marched them to the bathroom with time out and no dessert for dinner their punishment. Virgil remembered looking at the mess on floor and desk, as well as the feeling of horror when he saw the red hand-print on his painting. He’d walked up to it and collapsed into tears. Scott was by his side almost immediately, pulling him into a hug, while John went and got the mop and bucket and started cleaning the floor. Virgil had given his youngest brothers the silent treatment for the next week, only relenting went Alan had fallen over and he was the only one nearby.

Looking at the painting now Virgil could reflect on the day without pain. Sure, it had hurt at the time, but now it was just one of the days Gordon and Alan had gone too far, and they had learnt their lesson. Virgil placed his hand over the small red hand-print on the canvas, wondering if Alan even remembered putting it there. Taking one last look at the hand-print, Virgil closed the drawer. One day he’d take that painting out and show Alan, maybe when he had a kid of his own. Standing up and retrieving the landscape from behind him, Virgil left the storeroom, knowing he’d be heading back down memory lane soon.  

[snakerps]

@gxldhearts

TC didn’t get an awful lot of free time to himself, what time he did take away from work was often spent at his brother’s place watching his kids while him and his wife took some much needed time together. Together away from their current three youngsters full of energy and itching to get into trouble. Which was where good ol’ uncle TC came in. It was a system that worked, and had been working for them for years now--years. Years and years really as he’d been stationary in the city for over fifty years now and the oldest two of his brother’s pups (twins of course) were just shy of twelve years and TC had been volunteering his free time to the happy family since day one. 

If he had been around for their other kids he might have claimed to do the same, maybe this was his attempt at making up for lost time. For the life of him, as he rolled around in the dirt with his nephew, he couldn’t understand why he’d wanted to get away from his family so damn much. You ought to be thinking about settling down proper now, huh? His brother’s voice chimes from the back of his mind, a bitter reminder. 

His nephew lets out an oof as he lands flat on his back, dark hair mussed in the dirt and staring up at the sky with a look of distinct childlike frustration “Come on little man,” TC says with a wry smile, hands resting on his thighs as he half leans over “You’re getting there, don’t take it personally yeah? You’re still--”

A scream rips through the air, a white hot bolt of fear rips through him and he whips around in place as he watches in horror; his niece as she falls out of the tree with a sickening crunch. Heedless of the thin line every supernatural has to walk, he uses Alpha speed to close the space and crouches down by her while “Elise! Elise baby what happened?” she rolls around on the ground, her arm held close and the stench of blood hits him like a slap to the face, fat tears roll down her face as he tears his flannel off to tie makeshift sling, and scoops her up just as her sister’s shoes hit the ground.

She was too young for the entirety of her werewolf genes to have kicked in, her healing factor wasn’t enough to combat a break this brutal. Coupled with her omega status...which her sister is quick to blame “If she wasn’t such a cry baby she wouldn’t have fell!” 

“She pushed me!”

“Did not!”

“I didn’t...I didn’t wanna play the game she wah--wanted and she got mad and--” “Shut up! You stupid crybaby ome--”

“Hey!” his strong voice cuts through as Carver shuffles closer with wide eyes “None of that bullsh--” he closes his eyes as he starts towards the gate leading out of the backyard, his free hand reaching out to sntach Abigail’s wrist to pull her along (She tries to dig her heels in, saying she doesn’t want to go) and what a picture he must paint for the neighbours, at least he’s in his civvies as he herds the three into the family van (he’d lent his brother his car for the trip, muscle cars were ten times sexier than the family minivan that forever smelled of mother’s milk even if the pups had been off such for years). 

Abigail huffs and puffs in the back seat, arms crossed and pouting as she slouches in place. Carver’s lower lip wobbles as he holds Elise’s uninjured hand. She’s still crying. Reeking of blood and pain and sadness and worst of all: guilt. Too damn young to be letting her sister’s damn cruel words be affecting her like that. He tears out of the driveway yearning absently for his siren as he weaves through traffic, try and let one of his boys in blue stop him, just let them try.

Like any wolf he’s ever met, TC hates hospitals. He’s done his time on countless battlefields and the stench of blood, death, and rot was the kind of thing that stuck with you. The heavy perfume of gunsmoke and mud could never hope to drown out. Abigail is arguing again from the backseat, an alpha--both her siblings omegas and she used it to lord over them constantly. It was a known issue that both parents (alpha and beta) were trying desperately to work on. But it extended to her own mother. 

Worries. Things to stress over when he wasn’t breaking the speed limit to get to the only hospital in Athame. He screeches to a stop just outside the emergency entrance and all but ejects himself from the driver’s seat, the door slams shut with the sound of shattered glass--emotions getting the better of him and Gods is he ever grateful his brother is in another country right now. 

He takes Elise into the ER and has to argue with them for a hot minute, two other children trailing behind him one on the brink of tears and the other on the brink of mutiny. All of them are directed to a stretcher and the curtain pulled to give them some privacy, there’s a part of him that feels a lick of guilt over being fast tracked ahead of the busy waiting room due largely in part to his occupation, his status. Elise sits sniffling on the stretcher, Carver next to her pressing himself against her uninjured side while Abigail continues to give all of them the silent treatment. Their regular doctor is blissfully on rotation today, he stands with his arms folded over his chest doing his damndest to ignore the little Alpha’s roiling stench of emotions--not a lick of remorse. 

TC’s stomach churns at the implications of this. He’s an Alpha sure but he’s not THE Alpha. That’s his Mother’s role. And he’s not Abigail’s Alpha either, that’s his brother’s role. But he’s got age. He’s got a whole novel’s worth of experience and as he glances over his shoulder at her, his eyes flash red and a low growl rumbles from his throat. A spark of fear so pugnant in her emotional aura sounds and she slouches, chin pressed to her chest and he looks away reverting back to normal. 

He doesn’t want to be here, but at least none of their senses have developed over much to really been overwhelmed by the stench of this place. He’s tense, feeling like a wire pulled taught. 

And then he catches the scent of another wolf.

Male. 

Omega.

He cocks his head to the side and breathes deep, an adult. Here? Willingly? Visiting a friend maybe? Wolves and humans mingled easy enough, like the ever laughable man’s best friend, saying that rang true. But the wolf is approaching them, he wonders if he smells them; knows them. And it immediately puts him on guard but ducking out of the curtain to get in his face in such a public place is a bad one. The responsibility to his blood, his pack, is a strong one to fight against. Blunt nails turned to claws as they dig into the meat of his arms and he finds he’s re-positioned himself in front of his niece facing outwards towards the curtain’s direction the Omega is approaching. The growl sounding from his throat is low, dangerous and if he were to look in a mirror...well it didn’t take much for him to know his eyes were red. 

He chokes it back, coughing as his throat chokes off the warning sound just as the curtain parts and he gets an eyeful of the other wolf, the omega, the doctor. 

Oh.

That makes sense. 

He stands straighter then, to his full height which...wasn’t much different than his “...You’re their doctor?” he says and it sounds rough, like his mouth had started to shift and his teeth felt too sharp--Elise’s hand touches his leg with a sniffle and he reels himself back in “Yeah makes sense I just…” he works his jaw as he steps out of the way with great reluctance “She’s my niece. I’m...she…her healing hasn’t kicked in yet, too young I…”

“I pushed her!” Abigail says and he hates that he hears the pride, hates that this child is already proud of it, already on the bandwagon for putting an omega in its place and he’s only grateful that her senses haven’t evolved enough to sense that their doctor was one of the very wolves she already decided herself to be better than “She was being a baby.”

He shoots the doctor a pleading look as Carver finally caves and starts to bawl at his sister’s side which in turns makes Elise cry more and Abigail rolls her eyes at this display as if she was somehow above all this and not the cause of it in the least “We’re working on it.”

With clear hesitation he moves away from Elise and over to Abigail who he grips by the arm to haul out of the seat “It’s a clean break doc’,” he says as Abigail whines “But I haven’t done anything medical for another soul in decades I just...please help her.”

[the-walking-memelords]

A2 - Chapter 6: Search for Safety

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Series is rated M

Word Count: 2528

Clementine finds herself reintroduced to the horrors of the world outside her secluded home.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

The smell of pine sap permeated the air as the fallen green needles crunched under her boots. The hardness of the ground below her was the only real indication that this was a paved road as leaves and branches masked the abandoned route. White clouds formed in front of their faces with every exhale as the chilly morning air clung to their skin. The clouds above their heads danced with the strong winds as they darkened with every passing hour.

I hope we find the others before that storm hits.

Eli followed along in silence, hands jammed into his pockets and seemingly locked inside his own thoughts. Clementine walked behind him, not willing to let him out of her sight just yet. She wanted to trust him, she really did, but caution was required with someone unknown and unpredictable. 

Clementine had decided that she would do what she could to help the boy, but if he tried to throw it back at her, she wouldn’t hesitate.

Louis led the way with AJ at his side. The two of them talked in hushed voices that couldn’t reach her ears, but AJ was smiling, so she wasn’t worried.

Eventually, the trees grew sparse as they approached a hint of urbanization in the seemingly endless forest. At least in the forest, you could pretend all was right with the world. Untouched wilderness remaining uninterrupted by humanity. But approaching something like this, shells of burnt-out cars overtaken by vines scattered and crashed along the cracked pavement. The faded yellow lines that once divided the lanes became ignored as this flurry of people rushed to get away from the first of the walkers. The cars sat rusted and charred, crushed together in nearly unrecognizably twisted clusters.

The four of them walked past the automotive graveyard, ignoring the unmoving jaws of the scorched skeletal figures slumped in the seats. Their remains fused to the very material. 

A small, high-pitched gurgle was barely audible from one of the cars. It was a minivan. Red paint chipped and melted in the front half leaving the back to be weathered down but more or less intact. Another wheeze came out of the heat-shattered window.

The four of them stopped as the shuffling of the agitated walker became more apparent. Louis and Clem looked at each other as they gauged the possible threat.

Louis stepped forward silently, reaching his bat out in front of him as he tapped the metal under the opening. 

A small, bony hand gripped the edge on the window frame, unconcerned about the glass shards digging into its skin. The face of a child appeared over the frame, half of her face burned to a crisp with an empty eye socket. The other side that still had some remnants of functional flesh was twisted into a dark scowl. Locks of thin and matted hair hung from a ponytail still tied in a bow with a stained yellow ribbon. The little girl lunged out of the window, the glass tearing into her yellow dress staining it with her nearly black blood and holding her in place.

Clementine stared at her with eyes filled with shock. 

Why did it have to be a kid?

Even now in her 20’s, seeing a child as one of them made her think of how close she came to being just like that. She would have been dead in a week if Lee had never found her. Dead, and turned. Without ever knowing what was happening around her. Just like this little girl. 

Maybe that’s why the kids always made her hesitate. Killing an adult walker was more dangerous and more difficult, but she would never stop for even a second. But a kid? Looking into their blank eyes triggered a flash of all of the kids she knew to appear with those eyes in place. 

Looking at this little girl’s white, unfocused eye made her think of every kid she watched die.

She could feel Louis’ sympathetic gaze on her. Clementine forced herself to find more interest in the mud on her boots than the dead child and shook her head. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Louis’ boots walk towards the van as the growls intensified. There was the shing of a knife and then silence. One final thump and it was all over. When Clementine looked back up it scene was as empty as it had been when they arrived, save for a piece of torn yellow fabric stuck to the broken glass.

She can rest now.

You didn’t know her. 

Just don’t think about it.

“Let’s keep moving.” Clem said plainly as she took the lead.

---

The rushing rapids of the river could be heard from quite a ways away even over the whistling of the winds. The road approaching the substantially large steel bridge became even more clustered with abandoned vehicles lost to nature. 

The fence separating the solid ground from the cliff’s edge was nearly non-existent at this point, leaving little to prevent someone from talking the steep and long plunge should they get too close.

The bridge seemed like it was the site of another panicked tragedy that was never resolved. The lone trailer of a transport truck laid perpendicular to the road, sitting on top cars it must have rolled onto.

“How do we get through?” AJ asked as they surveyed the trailer caught in both sides of the bridge’s supports. 

Clementine walked to the edge and peered around. Looking down, barely visible in the water was the cab of the truck.

We go this way and we’ll end up down there with the driver.

“If the others made it around this thing then we’ll find a way too.” Louis said confidently as he looked around for a way across.

“What if we don’t.” Eli spoke for the first time in hours. 

“What if we don’t find a way through? What does that mean?”

“It means they didn’t go this way and we have to look somewhere else.” Clementine responded, looking him dead in the eyes. She refused to consider the alternative. 

A burst of thunder echoed in the distance. A warning of what was to come.

“We won’t be able to track them well in the rain so let’s hurry up and look around.” She walked past both Eli and AJ.

Louis sat crouched next to one of the crushed cars, rubbing something between his fingertips.

“What did you find?” She asked as she crouched next to him. 

“Blood.” Louis’ fingers were covered in the sticky red substance.

“Living blood.”

Louis pointed ahead to the area underneath the trailer. It was a gap a few feet wide and tall that was a straight shot to the other side where it was boosted up by the car. A small yet sharp piece of metal stuck out from the side, covered in red that dripped to the road below.

“It’s still a little wet, so it’s not old. And it’s too light to be a walker’s blood.” Louis reasoned as the light from the other side of the bridge became a small beacon of hope as he rambled on.

“The spike is easy to see normally, but if someone was in a hurry, if multiple people tried to get through at once, or if someone couldn’t see very well, they could easily get cut.”

“You think this is where they got through?”

“I know it.”

From what she could see, the other side of the bridge was clear. A few dead walkers littered the road as well as…

Shit.

A mess of orange hair whipped around in the wind, the body it was attached to limp as the walkers.

No.

She’s too tall.

It’s not Ruby.

“Something happened over there.” Louis said.

“Let’s check it out.”

“I’ll go first.” A voice came from behind them. 

Eli stood with a determined look in his eyes, and a hunting knife in his hand.

“I’ll look for walkers or signs of people being through here.” His determination faltered and revealed a tone of desperation in his voice.

“I can help.”

What is he trying to prove?

“Fine” Clementine relented. “I’ll go second, then AJ, then Louis.” Clementine stumbled onto her hands and knees as she crawled under the metal trailer, keeping in mind the sharp debris around her. This thing’s been solid for over a decade, what are the odds it falls now?

Her thoughts were halted by the boy frozen in place in front of her. Clem was about to ask what the matter was when she heard something unexpected answer her.

A horse whinnied from somewhere near the end of the bridge accompanied by the muted arguing of two men.

“What’s the holdup?” Louis asked from the other side.

“Gravediggers.” Eli growled.

Clementine squeezed in beside Eli to get a better look. Two men wrapped in fang-marked cloaks pulled a horse-drawn cart. The first man made a beeline to the dead woman, holding the sides of her head in his hands and bowing his head.

“She gonna come back?” The second man asked as he grabbed one of the walkers and threw its body into the cart.

“No.” He replied.

“Somebody put a bullet in her head.”

“Let’s just get her home and get her in the pit.” The second man said as he came to console the other.

“Word is the boss had his eye on her. She’s better off this way.”

“That don’t make this right.” His voice broke as he scooped her up in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

The man placed her into the back of the cart gently as the other threw in the last walker. Just as quickly as they arrived they pulled the horse alone a side trail and disappeared into the trees.

They waited several minutes under that trailer to make sure the men would not return. When they determined that they had truly left, the four of them crawled out to survey what remained of the battle scene.

“What the hell was that about?” Louis asked, breaking the silence.

“Scouts don’t usually go alone with just walkers. She probably had a partner that booked it and left her to die.” Eli explained with a dark expression.

“Gravediggers pick up the bodies. Human or Walker. You’re worth the same to Wolfgang.”

---

They walked for a few miles along the road as the trees faded into abandoned fields which opened up for the outlines of a few buildings to appear in the distance. Thunder continued to periodically boom across the sky, getting closer and closer as the clouds threatened to unleash the storm upon them.

A truck stop sat next to a few large retail buildings. As soon as their shoes hit the parking lot they realized they weren’t the only ones headed to the old Save-Lots.

A sizable herd had converged in the wide-open area. The sounds of nearly a hundred of the dead drowned out anything else as they wandered aimlessly.

So much for this place.

“I don’t think they’re here.” AJ said as he held his binoculars up to his eyes.

“Theres so many.”

“Do they look like they’re trying to get inside?” Clementine asked.

Who knows how long they’ve been here.

Could’ve been days, could’ve been hours.

We can’t give up on this place yet.

“The front doors are all boarded up. There’s a few standing close to it but they’re not hitting it.”

“Whether they’re here or not we gotta find a place to hide before those clouds break and we get drenched.” Louis pointed out. As if on cue, the sky lit up with a flash of lightning followed by the crash of thunder.

“No time to backtrack. We gotta go through them or around them.”

AJ handed Clementine the binoculars. Looking through, walkers surrounded nearly every building. Though thinly spread, there was no getting in anywhere without being seen.

“Looks like there’s less around that smaller building past the Save-Lots. If we have to hold up here tonight it should be easier to clear and less likely to be noticed.” Clementine pointed out.

“Now for the gross part.”

---

Slicing her machete down the abdomen of the fallen walker released a burst of foul air around them that made her stomach turn. Clementine bit her lip as she stuck her hands into the gorey mess, trying not to breathe as she stained her red shirt darker.

I liked this one, too.

Louis gagged and spit off to the side as he made sure AJ was good and covered. Eli didn’t hesitate to join in, smearing his face first before his clothes. He’d probably done this more often than any of them, being covered in guts to move walkers from place to place.

“Alright.” Louis said as they all donned their camouflage.

“This is where we’re starting. We all know where we’re going. Don’t clump together but don't spread too far apart. Got it?”

“See you on the other side.” Clementine squeezed Louis’ hand and nodded to the boys.

---

There was something surreal about walking through a herd. Being surrounded by the creatures that had hunted her for most of her life yet being utterly ignored. Walking as one of them, but the only one with a purpose in mind. The only one who knew where she was going. It made part of her wonder what drove them. What could they feel if anything at all? 

Was it a hunger? 

A rage?

What force made them walk one way while she walked the other?

Once the years numbed the horror into normality it sparked a morbid curiosity. Sadly, she knew she would never have the answers to any of her questions.

Where did they come from? And why? What made them tick? How did they manage to bring the entire world to its knees?

Now’s not the time for idle thoughts.

A cold droplet landed on the tip of her nose as Clementine gazed up at the foreboding dark clouds over her head. A second droplet hit her cheek and rolled down her face as more followed. The rain began to fall quickly as it soaked everything around her.

Clementine looked around her frantically for any quick way out of the herd, but everywhere she looked the dead swarmed. She wasn’t even sure what way she had came from anymore. Desperate but trying to maintain her composure, she pushed through the walkers wherever she could, trying not to attract too much attention while also getting the hell out of there.

There was nothing. No one. She resisted the urge to call out to the others. How far had she been separated? 

So much for sticking close…

She didn’t have time to worry no matter how much her heart wanted to. Her time was limited as the dribble slowly began to turn to a downpour. A red puddle formed underneath her as her camouflage began to wash away. 

She bit her lip and forced her breath to remain steady.

They’ll notice me soon.

Find a way out, Clementine.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt grip of a hand on her shoulder.

[sharperthewriter]

How the Rockwaller Stole Christmas (2/2)

(PART VI) The bad guys all slithered and snuck with vile smiles most unpleasant

Around the entire den and living room, they took all the Possible presents

Ann's jewelry set and new brain surgeon tools, Kim's new Kimmunicator The Tweebs' drone with a flamethrower nicknamed "The Incinerator" James' rocket set, Joss's mechanical horse went amiss And his latest version of "Fortress"! She even took Larry's Bernalus Senator action doll as seen To her, it would look even better soaked in gasoline But that's not all, no.... For she had more gifts to steal, though. Bonnie wanted to inflict more damage to them. To that point, she had Junior steal Ron's PSX720 and "Zombie Mayhem"!

Once the den was taken care of, there was the next phase of the plan. The kitchen was the next victim room, if one can understand. Junior and the henchmen seemed invincible like the Terminator They then began to raid the refrigerator They took the Possible's feast This included Nana's lemon-squares and even the Roast Turkey Beast. They cleaned out the fridge quickly like The Flash They even took the last can of Slim Possible's Montana potato hash.

They took all the toys and food out the open door, not too far. To the 'borrowed' trailer hitched on Cruella's 'borrowed' car Bonnie giggled with glee "Now..." the Queen grinned, "Junior, take the tree!"

Just as Junior did so, she almost made a fatal mistake One of the members heard the sound, turned on the light, suddenly awake Bonnie gasped and quickly instructed the henchmen to hide. Leaving only Junior without a hiding place inside. She feared that this would be Kim Whom would not be afraid to use all 16 styles of Kung Fu against her and him. To her amazement, she saw that it wasn't a Possible who got out of bed. But it was a STOPPABLE instead.

(PART VII) Hana Stoppable had heard the sound and came to. She, at time, was no more than two.

She was adopted by the Stoppable parents, not a few months sooner Ron once even called her "The Intruder"

But her big brother loves her so much If one enemy harmed a hair on her, they would DEFINITELY regret that touch

Coming out of bed Hana stared at Junior and said: Santy Claus? Why are you taking our Christmas tree? Why?

Junior, learning from his lessons with Shego Knew a perfect lie It was to boost his ego And to keep their plan alive

"Why, my sweet dear..." the fake Santa fibbed "There's a burnt-out light on the tree..if you can see.. Bonnie smiled, for she taught him to ad-lib For it is so Junior gave out a big Ho-Ho-Ho "I'm taking it back to my workshop up the North Pole My elves will work on the tree that also has a huge trunk hole."

Hana did indeed observe the hole in the trunk He instructed one of his 'elves' to put the tree in a very large sack. "Don't worry, I'll bring the tree right back."

The fib easily fooled the child And Junior patted her head. He gave her a warm glass of milk And sent her to bed.

Once Hana left the living room space The henchmen, and Bonnie, came out of their hiding place She exclaimed "That was extremely close. Now let's finish up the job, you dog

Take the last thing in their house! The yule log!"

Junior took the Possible's log for their fire. The HenchCo henchmen left nothing but hooks and bare wire.

(PART VIII) It was now quarter to 6. Bonnie and Junior were doing their final tricks. They had stuffed every last bag and tied it with ties. Bonnie gasped, looking at the sunrise. "Junior, start the car! "We have to make sure the Possible's Christmas will not go far!

And to his intuition Junior went into the car, followed by Bonnie, and started the ignition The DeVille vehicle sped off from sight From the theft of the Possible house that occurred during the night. The henchmen's HenchCo automobiles followed as well To make sure that everything Possible-related burns in the flames of Hell

About 4,000 feet up outside the city limits of Middleton The car came to a stop at such precision. Bonnie asked "Junior, do you have the two tanks of gasoline?" Junior took out the tanks from the trunk, so that they could be seen "They are right here, my love, for it will be brighter Once we set the gifts and food on fire." The henchmen also got out of the cars too To unload the trailer filled with the gifts and food They moved the trailer from the DeVil car 1500 feet away So that no fatalities or injuries would result that day.

"Wait..." Bonnie paused, stopped and stared, "The Britinia CD! That is the only gift to be spared If the disc doesn't skip or hinder."

"But the rest of it? Burn it to a single cinder!"

One of the henchmen gave her the gift she wanted the most. They have now received their instructions to reduce everything to toast.

"Before you can do that, I must hear... ...The sound that the Possibles most fear" Bonnie insisted with, again, her sexy grin "I want to relish my victory, my triumph, my win!"

She was constantly humming

"As we speak, the Possibles are finding out now Including Kim, the big, fat redheaded pig-cow Their Christmas is not coming. That will definitely make up for me being sad For all the crappy Christmases I had!"

Junior added, "They're waking up, and their mouth with drop for a minute or two. Then the Possibles in the Possible will cry boo-hoo!"

(PART IX)

"This is a glorious noise...." grinned Bonnie, "....that we simply must hear. Both Bonnie and Junior  paused and put a hand to her pierced ear.

The evil couple did hear a sound rising over that heavy snow. It indeed started low, then....it started to grow!

To the Evil Couple's shock, the sound from the Possibles wasn't sad. This sound was more in the area of....glad!

Every Possible down in the Possible-house The tall and the small Was singing their carols without any presents at all.

The Queen hadn't stopped the Possible Christmas from arriving, it came. Somehow, in the mystery of life, it came all the same. And the Queen and Junior, with her  boots cold stuck in the snow, stood puzzling Puzzling and wondering and mustering How could it be so?

It came without her mother's jewelry case! It came without the wannabe's Kimmunicator! It came wihout her dad's rocket set! It came without the Tweeb's Drone Incinerator!

Junior suddenly thought of something his tiny mind hadn't before. "Maybe the Possible Christmas....means a little bit....more!"

Bonnie gasped. She hadn't thought of this. Of Junior having a change of heart on her evil list. "Junior, what the Hell have you been smoking?"

"You really must be truly joking!" But Junior gave Bonnie a treasonous reply. With a bit of a small sigh

"No, my beautiful brunette! It's the Possible family coming together that is the primary reason To celebrate their Christmas season." Bonnie growled. She didn't know what to do at this junction. Her family, with all of its gossip and intrigue, erred on the side off dysfunction. What happened then?

Through the TRUE meaning of Christmas, Junior's heart grew three sizes that day. In a sort of a miraculous way. But then, from the city, came a loud holler The Queen gasped in horror after recognizing that voice: BONNIE MARIE ROCKWALLER!!

This left her no choice.

(PART X) Bonnie sneered, thinking for herself, "If you don't have the gumption To do a lot of destruction. Then I will do the evil deed myself."

She  swiped the gas cans away from Junior's hands And was about to accomplish her own dastardly evil plans. Bonnie gave an evil cackle What she didn't expect was a hard-charging tackle From the 'redheaded pig-cow' she had called Kim moments ago The gasoline went onto the DeVille car to and fro. "Now, Tweebs!" the world-saver yelled, tackling her rival in the attack Both Jim and Tim freed the drone from its prison sack. With the flamethrower as its primary weapon, it's target in sight. It breathed fire on the gas-covered DeVille car, ready to ignite. The DeVille Car blew up in a blaze of glory Of twisted Detroit (actually UK) metal and steel (and thankfully, things that are not gory) The HenchCo henchmen, seeing this destruction Tried to get out of here, wishing they had jobs in construction. But almost all of their vans stalled out and didn't move, to their dismay. Ron and Rufus has loosened their air from their tires, and Rufus said OK!

"Bonnie....you should know better than that in this sitch!"

"Of all the evil things you have done, this is the most wrongsick of all, you evil witch!" Growled Kim, wresting with the brunette. "K, it's no fair of what you and your fam are doing.

Living next door to me, and enjoying Christmas while I stare out of the window, losing!" Kim then replied, "Then why don't you move out?

Before I force you on me my puppy-dog pout!" And she did make the PDP

Bonnie covered her eyes, not wanting to see.

Not literally, Kim gave Bonnie a black eye. Thankfully, Hana told Ron about Junior's flat-faced lie. As if the Christmas Day started off worse on Bonnie, for sure She then tripped and fell into a pigsty filled with manure.

What Bonnie didn't know was that Junior, finding the meaning of Christmas came through. He now has the strength of 50 henchmen, plus two. With his heart hadn't felt quite so tight. Junior, Ron, and Rufus.  up the only active HenchCo van in the morning light. The one minivan whose tires were not slashed Bonnie screamed as Kim cuffed her rival behind her back, the former's reputation now gashed.

Junior descended down toward Middleton eating crumpets And Ron blew out a charging tune on the top of the van from his ramhorn trumpet.

Everyone went back into Middleton And went back to the Possible abode and released the toys. To Joss, Cousin Larry, and the Twin Possible Boys Junior brought back Ann's jewelry box and Kim's new model Kimmunicator. The drone carried its toys to the den with its' now-closed incinerator. Larry was especially delighted a lot When he received his versions of Fortress and Everlot He even jumped through the hall on a football That Junior gave him back both his Bernalus Senator action doll

Everyone, except for Bonnie, brought everything back, including the food and feast. And to the youngest Rockwaller's shock and disgrace Adding a banana-cream pie to her face. Junior even....carved the Christmas Turkey Beast.

Though Kim interrupted the festivities and said, "You know, Junior, both you and Bonnie will be serving time in prison instead."

"The police are going to arrest you for the robbery that you two performed last night And of course, they are going to read you the Miranda Right You still did the crime You still are going to have to do the time. As for Bon-Bon, the School Board will decide your fate, you stupid clod And also for your position on the MHS Cheer Squad.

So, Bonnie and Junior were led away in the wagon, facing their stupid decision Of doing this crime that would definitely lead them to prison "Now..." the driver said in a familiar voice. "...you two have done well as so You especially, Miss Rockwaller, have obeyed "The Villain Code" Both Junior and Bonnie smiled with delight, for they recognized his evil demeanor The driver took off his mask, revealing to be Senor Senior Senior

For Bonnie's relationship with Junior, everything was forgiven. When Junior gave her a wad of $500,000 rolled up in fresh crisp Benjamins "You have chosen your mate wisely, young lady, Except for the fact that my son suffered a good gaffe But no matter, when the weather is sunny or shady We shall all practice our evil laughs!"

And they all laughed in the wagon for sport While Senior took them on helicopter to the island from the airport.

THE END

[feenyreadscomics]

Rosaries, pt 6

Last time on Rosaries, Matt left NYC on a train. He has just run into Bucky. Also a disclaimer, I guess for this whole series in general, but particularly with the introduction of Bucky: I am not disabled. And in particular with Bucky, I wasn't able to find much regarding how a total arm amputee may have to navigate life. So, if i get something wrong, i apologize in advance. Also I feel like I've been writing Matt, and am currently writing Bucky, as being a bit too open to trust. Dunno how to correct it, but here we are

Something was... off. There was the vibrating from the guy's arm next to Matt sure, but there were a few too many conductors for this train. And they were carrying... probably weapons.

One of the conductors came up to them, and started harassing Matt's seat buddy? Seat acquaintance? Seat acquaintance, and Matt knew he was carrying a gun. So, he might have tried to deescalate the situation (Foggy would be proud of him) and the gun might have been pulled out in the open. Which may have required a bit of combat, throwing his seatmate onto the floor, and getting the gun away from the conductor.

But then, holy shit, his seatmate had a bulletproof arm. Which was useful, since the cramped quarters meant he couldn't tell exactly how many people were coming after them. They were able to grab their packs, and then the stranger smashed his metal arm through the window. He climbed out onto the top of the train, Matt following close behind. A gunshot grazed metal arm's leg. More goons started to come out the sides of train.

"We need to jump!" Matt yelled.

"I got that!" Seat mate responded.

Matt heard a pin being pulled out, then something metal land at their feet. Shit. A grenade. Matt kicked it away, then dove off the side, tackling his new buddy as they went. And down they went, Metal arm's metal arm knocking the wind out of Matt, and Matt accidentally kneeing him in the ribs, and they were off. Running. They weaved through some trees before making it to a residential area. Then, a downtown area. Perfect.

Matt slipped on a hat and reassembled his cane. The other guy pulled up a hood. Considering he was loosing blood pretty quick, he was doing a good job holding up. Matt grabbed Metal Arms's (fleshy) elbow.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Trying to pretend to be normal. You're going to be guiding me, mostly because it's easier for me if you do. Once they are off your tail, you're gonna get stitched up."

"Got it." Bucky began to turn his head.

"Don't look behind us. That's suspicious. I've got good hearing. I'll be able to tell when they're giving up." They weaved their way through the crowd: tired workers shuffling back home, teens excited over the upcoming weekend, college students slipping away from their studies to bars. It was a lot of noise, and Matt needed to concentrate if they were going to get out of this.

With Metal Arm guiding Matt, he was able to focus on the people talking on their comms. Eventually, they gave up. Matt waited about thirty seconds after that, then said "Hey, they're gone."

"Great. Can we sit down?" Metal Arm guy moved to a bench and rolled up his pantleg. "Do you have any gauze and tape?" Matt dug out a roll of medical tape and gauze. Metal Arm took them and wrapped his leg, then returned the rest, and pulled down his pant leg. "Thanks."

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

"I'll figure it out."

"I'm moreso asking because you just blew my travel plans out of the water."

"Well, shit."

"So, a quid pro quo?"

"Sure. Ya got any camping gear?"

"Some."

"We are getting out of here then."

"Down for taking a cab?"

"Sure."

Matt pulled out his phone, and called a cab. Fairly soon, Boston was behind them, the lights of the city fading to black.

--

Later on, after camp got set up and fish were caught and cooked (and Matt managed to eat one) and fires were lit and granola bars were shared and introductions were made ("I'm Jim," the metal armed man said, even though his heart rate registered a lie, but tit for tat, Matt supposed, as he introduced himself as Mike) the duo settled into a comfortable silence.

"I'll take first watch," Matt offered.

"I would rather do that."

"No, you first."

Jim glared at him. "No."

"Fine." Matt walked over and got into his hammock. Sleep was probably a good idea.

"What's the deal with the hammock anyways?" Jim asked.

Well, sleeping on the ground is a special sort of sensory hell, but camping itself is great. So much quieter than the city. "I sleep better this way."

Jim nodded at him, then silently watched the fire.

--

Buck waited for Mike to fall asleep. Being awake was better than being asleep. Mike took a while. His arm was bugging him, but it would be okay, in the end.

It was a long night. Bucky hoped Mike would be able to get back to whatever his travel plans were.

--

Mike roused himself from sleep at around four am. He had Bucky go to bed. Bucky slipped under his tarp, then took off his arm. That felt so much better.

Bucky fell asleep.

--

He was there, again. The mission. Behind a blue minivan.

Roll a grenade. Easy takedown.

But then, boom, the Black Widow was on him, and he was fighting to breathe. And boom, she was off.

Shoot. Target not eliminated, hiding behind a car. Shoot again.

Then he charged in.

Shoot, kick, fight. Eliminate target.

And he's choking his best friend and powerless to stop.

Punch, kick. His mask is off. Steve's face emblazoned in his mind. Horror, fear.

"Bucky?"

--

Jim was moving, thrashing. Matt was on guard, stick in hand.

They slowly died down. Matt breathed a sigh of relief.

--

Jim woke up.

"Morning," Matt said as he offered a granola bar to Jim. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," Jim said. Heartrate increase. Lie. Jim took the granola bar, tore the packaging off with his teeth, and ate it.

"So what's the plan for today?"

"You," Jim pointed aggressively at Matt, "go on your own way. Do what you need to do. And I," Jim started pointing at himself, " go my own way."

"While I dont doubt you can take care of yourself," Matt took a bite of his own granola bar, "you have no money, limited resources, most of which are weapons, and a giant fucking target on your back." Matt swallowed his granola bar. "I have resources and a death wish. So how about we work together?" Matt did not like the sound of this guy striking out alone. He'd probably kill a bunch of people.

"I don't play well with others."

"Neither do I! Last time I worked with someone, people died. So how about we work together?" Jim, I really need to know you aren't a terrorist. Please.

"I nearly killed my best friend. Please, leave me alone."

"You aren't alone. I did too."

"Wait, what?"

"Yep. Got possessed. My best friend climbed a temple to save me. Nearly killed him."

"Jeez. Fine. You can stay."

They clean camp, and move on, getting on a bus. Matt texts Foggy he's alright, and Foggy wishes him well.

Foggy texts about how he's a bit worried for Matt, and wants to know if he was involved in the train incident. Matt wants to lie, to say that he wasn't, but he takes a deep breath. They were trying to beat up an amputee, he texts back. Foggy wants to know if anyone died, and all Matt can say is not before he left. Matt asks about cases at the firm, and they had a case with Mrs. Gonzales and her son, accused of robbing a bodega at gunpoint. It seemed open and shut. Matt wished him luck on the case, and him and Jim continued their adventures.

--

I lived, b: hey so I just texted Matt and apparently he made a friend

Hottie McBurnerPhone: oh thank god

Night Nurse: he actually made a friend?? Like I'm a bit worried if this friend is a good influence

The hair is real: that's surprising. No one forced him?

I lived, b: I know. But great.

Old man: that's good for him. Who is this friend?

I lived, b: dunno. An amputee, apparently.

Old man: ok. Praying for him.

--

And we are done! For clarification

I lived, b: Foggy Nelson (refrence to the plot where he gets cancer

Hottie McBurner phone: Claire Temple

Old man: Steve Roger's. By finding out Matt is Daredevil, he earned one consolation prize of being in the "I'm friends with a human disaster and this is how I cope" chat.

Night nurse: Linda Carter

The hair is real: Karen Page (refrence to 60's Page hair)

Also, not waking someone up in case of night terrors is what you should do.

Matt almost killed Foggy in the comics. It happened, we love Matt anyway. Also lowkey love Matt being "You think you're a human disaster? Try me."

[nellieblybitches]

Ghost Story Part 1

This is a story i’ve been working on for a lil while. it’s me trying to condense ghost lore into a story that also reflects an emotionally destructive family dynamic and matter-of-fact horror

heeeere goes! pls ask questions and propose edits KINDLY

Louise Jones woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night on a Tuesday in late February. She decided to get a glass of water.

The first misstep was the slippers. It was unpleasantly cold, and the linoleum in the hallway would be hell without them, but the slippers were, well, slippery. The stairs would not be easy. They were idiotic-looking, too, with little bunny faces on the toes and carrots on the soles, but she assumed nobody would see her.

Part two: her glasses. Most days, Louise kept her glasses on her nightstand. But she had left them unattended on the couch that weekend, and her daughter Charlotte had sat on them. She had ordered new ones, but they hadn’t arrived.

Part three. She had just awoken from a nightmare, a vivid and terrifying one. In the dream, she walked behind a group of shadowy, sinewy figures, watching them pull every item off the shelves and throw it to the floor. Books, plates, clocks, photos… broken pottery littered the carpet everywhere, and the glass was already cutting her face and feet…Her family was nowhere in sight.

The people were methodical and fast, ripping her children’s artwork that hung on the fridge, smashing a vase with a hammer, throwing rocks at windows. The rubble began to build up on the floor, and then the dream shifted in the way that only dreams can, so she was suddenly in a murky lake in her own living room, full of broken glass and wood. The level of the polluted water rose until she was treading water, swimming with her head against the ceiling, all the way under and trapped with no air…

It was at this moment that she sat up in her bed, sweaty but in one piece, with the paintings still on the walls and the mattress still on the bed. She gulped down fistfuls of air, feeling as though there was toxic dust in her lungs.

Thus: The third and most dangerous part of her trip to the kitchen was not that she could barely see or walk. It was that her dream still clutched her, still strangled her, and bits of it stayed glued to her mind.

So as she navigated the house, her vision was against her: pieces of glass still seemed to litter the floor, the walls sweated bilge water. Her reality and dreams had been mixed violently in a cocktail shaker, and disoriented Louise was alone in deciphering what was real.

She began to run down the hallway. She passed her children’s rooms. Her slippers were slick on the tiles. She reached for the banister and swung at arm’s length away from it to speed up the process of getting down the stairs, but, in her haste, Louise hit the back of her head, hard, on the windowsill. Her feet slid out from underneath her so that she landed flat on her back. She bumped down six stairs before coming to a stop. Her spine stiffened, then relaxed vaguely into the shape of the stairs.

Louise was dead. Very dead. And she stayed unnoticed in her deadness until the morning, when her son Will made that same swing around the corner of the bannister and saw his mother lying there, crumpled on the landing.

It was gory, and probably scarring to poor fourteen-year-old Will, but Louise barely heard his shriek of terror and grip on her cold arm. She was deep in the midst of the feeling of her heart slowing, her body cooling. It was achey and dizzying and painful. She couldn’t even close her eyes.

She barely felt anything when an EMT loaded her into an ambulance, or when she heard her husband Ian lie loudly to five-year-old Mimi that Mommy would be fine. Aches and pains faded in and out of her body. Her skin felt tight, and dry, and cold.

Somewhere on Lunt Ave., she began to feel detached and floaty. All of the scraps of pain and discomfort were loosening their bond on her limbs. As the ambulance turned onto Thornshore Dr., she felt her soul detach from her body. A hiss of air escaped her lungs, or her body’s lungs, because now the human form lying on the stretcher was completely and utterly separate from Louise Jones.

Louise, the real one, was coursing though the sky, feeling as though a magnetic force was pushing her back to where she lived—or used to live. The fact that she was dead and no longer human was dawning on her painfully slowly. She landed on the porch.

For the fist time, her feet—wearing the god-awful bunny slippers she had put on nearly six hours earlier—touched the ground. Immediately, as her heels pressed the doormat, sharp stabbing pains wrenched through her feet. What felt like thousands of needles and bits of glass and gravel were pressing into her soles. She limped to the door. It didn’t get any easier.

Her body, which had been misty-soft when she flew from the Brightstar Hospital ambulance, solidified and took on a humanoid shape, cold and clumpy. Mostly out of instinct, she reached for the doorknob. The lock clicked familiarly—without a key.

Right inside, she sat on the bench by the door, ready to relieve the pressure on her feet. To her surprise, the only thing on the bottom of her slippers was a rather tacky carrot pattern. She stood up. Yet again, walking felt like rubbing glass into her feet. From here began the process of hopping, running and jumping to the kitchen to see if there was any way to get the pain to lessen a little.

Louise made an interesting discovery when she jumped: she stayed up. “Walking” now meant gliding a foot or so off the ground. The pain was gone. Louise pushed the worries about getting back down on the floor to the corner of her mind and rose up the stairs.

On the way up, she paused. She was hovering about eighteen inches above where she had died. There was a good amount of Louise’s blood, mostly dry, on the stairs and windowsill. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She licked her thumb and rubbed at a freckly patch of spatter on the banister support. To her shock, the fluid did wash away.

Louise was becoming increasingly aware of her limits as a ghost. Testing was constant. After cleaning up the brain matter and blood on the stairs, she decided to go outside and see what happened when she interacted with people.

She put her hand to the door. Locked as it was, she had no trouble pushing it open. She rubbed her hands together evenly. Here was where the fun was.

Mr. Robert, the elderly neighbor who took down Christmas decorations on December 26th every year, was walking east, probably to mail the letter in his hand. Louise swarmed down through the air to come to a stop a few yards in front of him. She hovered, tense. What if he didn’t see her? What would happen if he did?

Mr. Robert didn’t slow down or step closer to the edge of the sidewalk. He just walked head-on at Louise, as if she weren't there. For a man who loved his personal space, he seemed okay with just about walking through her.

Walking through her. Louise had a sudden realization. What if he could just occupy the space that she was, like in the movies? He was a yard away now. She was nervous. He plodded on. Just as he reached her, Louise squeezed her eyes shut. There was a faint whooshing sound, and now Mr. Robert was moving away from her, trudging forward like there was nothing more important to him than that letter. She turned to watch him, feeling silly.

If she cut through the Delaneys' garden, she could get to a more main street, with more people. She sped down the side path, passing though Jason Delaney’s tricycle. Huh. So when she wasn’t looking to grab onto something, she could just get past, easy peasy.

Louise was giddy with her discoveries now. No more tripping over items on the floor, she could just pass through them! No more trouble with losing her keys; the door would just open for her. So many of her least favorite pet peeves were—

WHAM. Louise staggered. About four feet in front of the Delaneys’ back fence was…something invisible. She scooped up a stick from the ground and poked at the air in front of her. The stick thudded against the fence just fine, but her fist was rejected by an unseen wall. A solid barrier, no doubt, definitely intended for her. She frowned.

Disappointed, she rose up over the Delaneys’ and back over to her own house. She sat cross-legged on the porch. With her one good idea frozen in its tracks, overcoming her was a childlike sense of boredom. What’s a housebound dead woman to do, all alone?

Across the street was May Simmons, walking her little rat of a dog. May was incredibly thin, with collarbones that stuck out too far and eyes that were too wide. It looked like you could hide soup in her clavicle.

“Good morning, May!” Louise called across the street. May didn’t seem to hear her. Jerry, the dog, glanced her way and looked suspicious. Feeling madcappish, she swooped down to May and Jerry to see if she could get their attention. She reached out to pet the dog’s ugly mat of fur, and he barked, snapping at her fingers.

“Whoa, Jerry.” May was struggling to restrain her dog. “There’s nothing there.” Cereal-box-sized as he was, the puppy noticed her—and did not like her. May, clearly spooked, steered spitting Jerry onto the edge of the sidewalk and tried to calm him down.

Louise was also spooked. So somebody could see her, even if it was just the misshapen puppy across the street. Her privacy came crashing down. What was the use of being a ghost if you were confined and visible? Being dead was spoiling her, making her petulant and demanding. She sat on the porch again, feeling like a teenager. It wasn’t the worst feeling. She had cracked her skull open earlier that day. It didn’t get much worse than that.

She saw a maroon minivan puttering down the street, the engine groaning familiarly. Leaning forward in her rocking chair, she saw her license plate and her husband behind the wheel, confirming the car to be hers. The childish state of mind swept away from her and in its place was a bout of some dark emotion: fear, perhaps, or something like panic. She stood up, then sat back down again. What was the point? They probably couldn’t see her.

Maybe they could. She stood up again. She was about to call out when she realized what would happen if they did see her: mass panic. Their mother risen from the dead, wearing bunny slippers. She crouched low behind a rocking chair.

The four of them trudged numbly up the stairs. Charlotte was crying. Will looked shaken to his core. Ian looked like he was holding two hundred pounds on his back. Mimi toddled behind all of them, unaware and confused.

Guilt spread through her, fast and cold. She wanted to comfort them. She wanted them to know that she was safe, that they could still talk to her. That their mother was close by.

She didn’t let them know any of these things. Instead, she stayed curled up behind the cobwebby chair until she heard the lock click behind them.

[sigritandtheelves]

Surface

Rating: Teen/Mature Timeline: Season 6 Tags: angst, UST, developing relationship

This is a follow-up to the story “Drown,” and I think it will be a 4-part series all together, moving from seasons 5-8 (probably veering into s8 AU). You don’t need to have read the other story first, but it may help. No beta: sorry. CW for brief references to child death (canonical) and hints at something non-consensual (”Biogenesis”).

For @scully-eats-sushi who wanted more. 

_+_

In their sixth year together, the world seems conspiring to mock her with nightmarish gestations: a slimy umbilicus down her throat, vomited out onto a freezing metal grate; a monstrous eruption from a man’s chest in the desert; a backyard of unearthed infant corpses, thrown away like trash. And perhaps most painful, the cruel incubation of Mulder’s once-dead relationship with another woman, rekindled.

Still, she thinks, he tries. Drugged, he tells her he loves her and it is like a fist gripping her insides. She brushes it off, heart pounding, and he never brings it up again. A few weeks later, she tests him—mentions dogs and kids and houses—and he play-acts dumbfounded, as if what she suggests were the truly alien, and not this midnight goose-chase. She doesn’t need the suburbs. Doesn’t want them, even. But she aches for a shared space, for a heavy arm over her waist when she wakes and two coffee mugs in the sink before work. She wants the car to take them to a cabin by a lake, not to Area 51; she longs for its trunk to be full of sunscreen and sleeping bags instead of case notes and clandestine emails. Not every time: she doesn’t need it always. But sometimes the desire to not be alone is overwhelming.

Christmas will be hard for her, he knows, so he distracts her with a ghost hunt that turns more real than he’d expected. Afterward, she shows up at his door and they grin and gift to each other, and it’s the best holiday he’s had in years. Maybe since childhood. He senses that she’s opening to him again, and he’s almost brave enough to do something about it. He settles for a kiss to her temple, on pulling her head against his chest while snow falls outside and colorful paper litters his coffee table. She takes a deep breath, nose to his solar plexus, and he feels her relax. They fall asleep, curled into each other. She’s late to her mother’s house in the morning.

In another hospital she almost dies, and he breaks down at her bedside again without her knowing. He sobs into the sheet at her shoulder and wonders how long he can keep himself from her, from scooping her to him and turning away from the work and the darkness and the car that drives the endless road. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into her hospital gown. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need.” But she sleeps and sleeps and doesn’t hear. Later, when she’s awake, he toys with her thumb and tells her that maybe death only finds you when you seek its opposite. It’s his timid, cryptic way of acknowledging her desire for life, perhaps even her desire for him. It’s all he’s able to give that day.

Cassandra Spender re-appears, Diana Fowley wedges dangerously between them again, and the Syndicate burns. Two weeks later, seeking death’s cause and unwittingly finding its opposite, Scully delivers a baby during a hurricane and comes face to face, once again, with all the losses she’s tried to forget.

_+_

When the weather cleared, they drove the hour-long trek to the airport in soggy silence. Mulder sensed the weight of something—heavy—pressing between them, something besides the fiasco with Diana. Their flight was delayed, as were many others, because of the storms, so they sat uncomfortably in a crowded airport bar and grill. Mulder tugged at the two hanging drawstrings of his raincoat, wondering what he might have done to upset her. The star profiler, befuddled as usual by the complexities of his partner, blinded by his singular focus, was at a loss when he looked at her.

“Scully,” he said finally.

In a daze in front of her tuna melt and side salad, she at first didn’t respond. He said her name again and she looked up. “Yeah?”

“What’s up?”

Scully frowned, not knowing how to respond. What could she possibly say to him over bad food in a south Florida airport restaurant that could capture the thing that sat on her chest all day, every day? The men who’d kidnapped her, violated her, tried to kill her with cancer, created then murdered her child, and left her barren—almost all were all dead, but would never be brought to justice. She was entangled in a partnership with someone who would die for her, but who didn’t seem capable of intimate connection, unless it was with busty brunettes who worked for his enemies. And she’d spent the morning reliving in her head the miracle of childbirth that she’d witnessed first hand, trying to forget about the fact that it was a thing her body would never have a chance to do, no matter how much she wanted it. So she was running low on hope, running low on motivation. She poked at her salad and said, “Nothing, it’s fine.”

Her frown echoed back at her on Mulder’s face. “Scully, please. Talk to me.”

She considered briefly what he might do if she said all these things, though she was sure he knew them already. What he was asking for was a simple answer, and she had no such thing to offer. She shrugged. “It’s the same as ever, Mulder. I’m just...” she sighed. “I’m struggling to strike a balance between happiness in my work and being heartsick for all the things I’ve lost. Nothing new.” There. He could make of that what he would.

“You’re not happy in your work?”

Scully’s eyes closed and she shook her head. Of course that’s all he heard. “No, Mulder, I am happy in my work. I love what we do.” Flat, toneless.

“So, then…”

She wouldn’t help him; he could put together the other pieces on his own.

---

Perhaps out of some perverse misinterpretation of her distress, Mulder decided that playing house would be a good idea. The day after her birthday, they dressed in pastel and khaki to role-play in what felt like a vulgar mockery of what he seemed to think she wanted. “You know, you’d fit in really well here,” he said, and it was like an elbow in the kidney. He wouldn’t stop touching her, even once tried to kiss her, but it was all of it a cruel joke. She found herself slipping too easily into wanting to touch him back—a lingering pat on the hand, then her own fingers quickly jumping away when his eyes found her face. It could have been fun, she thought, this trash-monster suburban-horror case, but instead it just hurt. His eye-waggle as he patted the bed beside him—what would he have done if she’d wiped off her facemask and slid into that tiny space beside him? Or if she’d dropped her robe and straddled him right there, facemask and all? He’d have panicked and run, choked on his own innuendo.

But she didn’t want another case to end in awkward silence en route to an airport, so in their rented minivan on the way out of Arcadia, she spoke before the heaviness could settle between them.

“You know I’d never want to live in a place like that, don’t you? You can’t think I’d actually fit in there.”

“Why not, Scully? Nice houses, nice people…”

“Nice people?”

“Big Mike was nice.”

“Mulder, that place was like Stepford. What the hell makes you think I’d want that?”

“I…” but his mouth just hung open for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said. He was tired of guessing and being wrong.

“That’s not what having a life means to me, Mulder.” She was tired of his guessing and being wrong too.

“Then what…”

But he never finished the question, and she never answered.

---

He read Padgett’s “novel” in a state of both arousal and rage, the one feeding the other. How dare this man, this stranger, see her this way? How dare he be right when Mulder was always so wrong? She’d been sitting on his bed, goddamnit. About to fuck another killer, maybe, while Mulder waited for her two rooms away.

And then, “Agent Scully is already in love.”

Her face: inscrutable.

Later, in his arms, she sobbed like he’d never heard, and he squeezed her small body to him, desperate for the thump of her heart against his own. He rocked her, sat back on the floor to hold her closer yet. His hand went inside her shirt, up her back to feel her hot skin, to feel her heart beating from both sides of her ribcage. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “Shh, you’re okay. I’m here.”

“Mulder,” she whimpered into his chest, bloodying him everywhere and he didn’t mind. Of course her love was his, and how terribly uncareful he’d been with it, how stupidly, recklessly thoughtless. But then, how dangerous the pull of this thing now… He couldn’t help it. He kissed the top of her head and let himself feel, for once, the overwhelming current of his own love for her. When her breathing slowed, he cupped her face in his palms and kissed her mouth, just once, just briefly.

She looked at him with such vulnerability, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. How could he possibly shoulder the weight of that need? How could he give of himself to her, when he was needed in so many other ways? Rather than collapse under its burden and run, as he may have done months ago, he embraced it—embraced her, again. “I’m here,” he repeated, and he felt the shuddering heaviness of her sigh that emptied into his now-bloody shirt. Somewhere in his chest, something loosened. It was his death grip on the truth, he realized later, his fierce and desperate commitment to the Only Thing That Matters. And most surprising to him, he found that in the space created by that loosening grip, something else found its way in. Something like hope. Something like a future.

_+_

On a warm Saturday in April, he tries again not once, but twice. First in their office, he finds a lazy excuse to spend time with her—hurled clichés and a stolen mouthful of her frozen dessert, when he’d rather taste her mouth. They’re going to kiss, he knows it; he can feel it in his toes like the moments before a sneeze. But then he spots an out for himself, and, coward that he is, he runs again. He leaves her disappointed with melted sugar on her hands.

Second try: evening. Stars in the sky, the smell of suede from her jacket, the feel of her ass against his hips, crack! crack! of the bat, and she is giggling again, god help him. This is the best he’s ever felt. He is beginning to get it, he thinks: together like this, it hurts less. Maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t need to torture himself like some ascetic in order to deserve his victories. Maybe, just maybe, love makes him stronger instead of an easy target. In the parking lot he kisses her again, a real kiss this time, with one hand tucked into the curve of her waist and another in her hair. He is weak-kneed with want for this woman. Her mouth opens under him and he groans into it. How could he have known it would feel like this? It scares him and he lets her go. She lays her palm to his chest, closes her eyes for a moment, then gets in her car and drives away.

In shared hallucination, they recognize their codependency, their perfect complementarity. Hand to muddy hand across a bouncing ambulance car, they confirm their faultless symmetry.

And then he is sick, is hearing voices, is collapsing in a stairwell. She calls him and hears the worst thing, the very worst: that other woman’s voice that says “Fox” in that breathy way. She asks, but he won’t say who’s there, just tells her it’s okay (it is decidedly not okay; she knows who is there). He hangs up on her and then the other woman is suddenly naked and climbing into bed with him and he tries to tell her no, but his head hurts so so badly and he can’t stop any of this and he wants to cry out for his partner and feel her cool hand on his head, but he can’t, and then there is darkness.

When Skinner calls her “Dana,” she knows it is very bad. She learns, none too subtly, that the other woman was with him in the night. He screams her last name, his always-cry of desperation, and he can see himself through her eyes, through the fuzzy gray monitor, but he can’t hear her thoughts alone through all the terrible noise.

Then, as he did for her, she is flying across the world to save him. She is standing in warm sand (not ice) on a spaceship that is, though she does not know it, knitting her inner scars back together into smooth flesh, that is healing healing her, deep on the inside where what she thought she’d lost comes back awake. She is learning the secrets of all life’s origins while, inside her, originating cells come back to life.

-end-

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 4X18 The Monster at the End of This Book

Oh BOY is it time for my Chuck Won Truthers moment

HE DID WIN HE DI[GUNSHOT]

oh and for posterity: Misha showed up at the Oscars, and people were SO surprised to see him he trended on both tumblr and twitter

what IS it with this guy, his life is just batshit insane

IT'S CHUCK!!! FUCK THAT GUY!

THEy'RE LARPING AS THEMSELVES

THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT LARP MEANS

"supernatural" ROLL CREDITS

"...Sam and Dean...?" "that's it!"

THIS IS THE GREATEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN

THE FUCKING TITLE PAGE

"supernatural by carver Edlund" BECAUSE CHUCK WROTE IT AND CHUCK WO-

"full frontal" HE WASN't EVEN FULL FRONTAL in the SHOW!

THESE ARE ACTUAL TITLES

the last one was the season 3 finale?

Ah I see where the "making fun of the fandom" comes from

At least they make fun of wincest

Samgirls and Deangirls

they make fun of the people criticizing them...kripke?

Dean: please do not publish that book

I AZM WHEZZING

THEIR FUCKING F A C E S

"I'm crying on the inside" WHWPHFASI

THEY GOT QUIZZED ON THEIR OWN LIVES

SAM COULDN'T REMEMBER HIS OWN LSAT SCORE

oH he's writing what's CURRENTLY happening

oh and he doesn't know what's going on

"the last names were never in the books" o p e that's what convinces him

"obviously I'm a god" "You're not a god" GUESS WHAT FUCKE-

All FoR the Sake of Literary Symmetry

THEY MAKE FUN OF BUGS

I liked the ghost ship episode

"to be forced to live bad writing" AIFPSIFP AHAHAHA

although to be fair, the "I'm sorry I'm a shitty god" is INTERESTING where did that come from

Writing is hard gif? THAT'S WHERE THAT CAME FROM

SIAPFS HE WROTE WHAT'S HAPPENING

VONNEGUT!!

the laundromat scene is NEAT

Chuck's SO SHORT

how the hell is the book more invasive,

oh I should write about that

happened in '05 too hm

THE PINK FLOWER BANDAID

"and you drive it like that" SAM SOUNDS SO INSULTED

OH THEY CAN'T LEAVE

ah they try to outsmart prophecy uh oh

Veggie Tofu Burger it looks like it HURT SO BAD

...I can't believe god got them to try actual communication by being a a prophet

heh he likes the..oh no it's the bacon one

YOU CAN'T OUTRUN FATE YALL

oh THE FLICKER AND IT TURNING INTO THE RED MOTEL

ah the demon blood

"unsympathetic" ope

what the HELL is Sam's problem with Dean

ah he sees stars

THE BANDAIDS

"That's cuz I just got hit by a minivan, chuck"

CASTIEL

"he's a prophet of the lord" GUYS HE'S LITERALLY GOD

"i admire your work" wAS HE LOOKING AT DEAN?

oh no he was looking at the book bUT IT WAS CLOSE

M. Night level Douchiness

HE'S NOT A MOUTHPIECE THOUGH

Who's Luke??

wait Did Castiel just make a joke?

and it can't be unwritten

The horror imagery is SCARING me

thE goSpel of WincHesTer

ah he knows

no he's right, Sam is doing the Dark Side thing

ope he's actually praying

boy he sounds desperate

HE'S ASKING CAS FOR HELP HE'S AH

CAS GAVE HIM SNEAKY HELP

AHDIAFHSDPIH

OH MY GOD WAIT

"I didn't write this" FUCK YOU CUZ CAS DID THAT'S WHY

"I've got a Gun in my pocket" PFFT

nice try on the trap bud

HE WAS N O T ALWAYS THE SMART ONE

pfft lilith's angry at the angel for Being There

nono she's right you all self sacrifice like your life depends on it(heh)

well I guess he did warn her

i aM the PropHet Chuc K

Boi I can't believe that worked

Sam Jesus Christ

ZACHARIAH

how is Chuck actually a decent person for now what happened

"We'd only bring you back to life" JESUS

1. Sam. Seriously, I'm starting to see the arrogance here. There has not been ONE episode recently where I go "Sam, that was unnecessarily cruel" and like...Be nice to your brother. He's sacrificed his own innocence like a million times for you, leave him alone. He's slowly going dark side, and we do get to see it, but BOI is it fucked. Sam go get off your high horse. You're smart, but not that much. You're good, but not THAT good.

2. Fate. Ok, the slow way they made the fate tie into everything was NEAT! the slow build to the RED motel, to the minivan, to the stars. Like the instant they try to undo it, you know they won't succeed, but they added a good chunk of stuff so that you slowly figure out HOW it won't happen about concurrently with Dean.

3. Writing=god. That whole thing about how they turned Chuck into hating the "kill your darlings" thing(I'm needlessly cruel to you, why did I do all that to you guys for the sake of literary symmetry, etc) felt a bit...off. Like I'm glad Chuck still has a conscience(he wanted to stop something from happening at the end and Zach said no), but it kinda implies that whoever IS writing it...doesn't? Like God is a malevolent God. ALSO the "If you die, we'll just bring you back from death." Like I don't know what happened from then to present, but that whole thing is a Mess, how is he actually god. Also, they...called themselves bad writers? They painted themselves in a bad way? If God wrote supernatural, and God is cruel and did a bad job...what was the takeaway? is it that the whole THING is meta? that the whole point is that we're always getting a Narrative of Sam and Dean, that the meta is part of the inherent backbone of the show? that the ghostfacers are the only real versions? ??

4. writing-invasive. Ok so the thing I noticed is that the writing felt more invasive than the show. Like could be the way they made him write it for Maximum Funny Points, but it's A LOT more invasive, like there's no part of you that's truly your own. I feel like that might have been the point, but I still wanted to mention it.

5. META! Ok COMPLETELY separate from the actual Meta Plot that may or may not be happening...them reacting to their actual lives being a Series is HILARIOUS! like did they use it to be unashamedly mean to their own fans cuz it wasn't the demographic they wanted? yes. And it was shitty(and it was ALSO shitty when Sherlock did it, wtf guys). But making fun of W*ncest shippers, them getting told they're larping, the quiz on themselves+Sam forgetting the LSAT scores, the showing the tattoo...honestly it's so good, it was really funny. Mixed bag, but gave me HILARIOUS shit.

6. CAS. CAS SNEAKY HELPED DEAN! I JUST!! CAN'T GET OVER THAT SCENE!! "Listen, I'm not allowed to do anything for real, because I'll get in trouble and that would be ... horrible. But so...here's this...interesting piece of info....you may or may not need...might be helpful idk" the lil half smile with "good luck," the attempt at a joke. I think maybe Castiel agrees, that there's something Fucked here. Like we saw what happened with him and Anna and Uriel and how completely fucked it got, and we want him to realize that and help Sam and Dean, and he is, in his sneaky "I don't entirely want to give everything up yet" thing and OH IT WAS SO GOOD

7. Obligatory Chuck Won. Listen. Listen. "the monster at the end of this book." HE's THE MONSTER! if we believe that the MetaPlot is a Part of supernatural(and as time goes on, I think we have to, what with all the adaptations and the actual nods it does). And in that case...yeah it makes sense that the writers did what they did, and it was because Chuck Won. Like seeing this, it makes sense! if THIS is supernatural by carver edlund, and carver edlund is god, then he did...exactly what he wanted when he was the villain and killed both of them unsatisfyingly.

I'm dying on this hill, this is right, chuck won truthers RISE

WHOO