#some very weird policing of teenage bodies. it is meant to be weird i promise you

[lollytea]

(Part 4 of La La Land Machine exposition posts!! I know I've made way more than 4 but this is the part that's going in chronological order. Like I've talked about Hunter and hunlow in this au before but this is his formal introduction, like Willow got in part 1. I also got quite a lot more followers since I last rambled about this AU so linking the other parts if they wanna catch up. And if they want, they can look through the tag for all the additional info.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

Anyway, I lied. We are only BEGINNING to talk about the hunlow slow burn. It's taken me long enough to set up Hunter and everything he's got going on. It sets up hunlow but they're not really close yet. But it won't even take that long to get the next post out because I am so excited to talk about them more)

Hunter Wittebane has lived his whole life wearing masks. He's been an actor before he developed object permanence. He was memorizing scripts by ear before he could fully read by himself.

Job after job, set after set, role after role. His environment is not only cutthroat competitive, but it's always in motion. Things never sit still. The biggest stability in his life was his Uncle Philip, whom Hunter loved intensely. Even if it felt like the only way he could express it was by bleeding.

But Hunter was only allowed to bleed in private. And if he wanted his Uncle to stroke his hair back and keep telling him he was special, he needed to prove it. He needed to be the second chance that he was born to be.

Hunter struggles to really understand who he is. Because he is seldom himself. If he's not playing a character, he's only known as the legacy of the Hollywood gem, Caleb Wittebane, Hunter's late father.

Hunter was quite sheltered as a child. Other than being out and about for business reasons, he didn't really get to experience much of the world. If he wasn't working, he was usually confined to his Uncle's house. Or hotel rooms. The only outings he goes on that are considered "personal" are to church.

He loves to read and he'll devour whatever book he gets his hands on. Unfortunately his options are limited to what his Uncle believes is appropriate. Philip views the world as a depraved and lecherous place, as are the people that inhabit it. If it weren't for this world and its poison, his brother would still be alive.

And then he wouldn't need to waste his time replicating his brother's likeness in some aimless weak willed child who can barely comprehend how important his performance is in all of this.

Philip refuses to allow outside forces to contaminate his nephew. If Caleb's soul is going to live on in the way it should have, they can't make a repeat of last time. Caleb's replacement has to remain on the right path, or his legacy goes up in flames.

The Bible is one of Hunter's top comfort reads. It's the only book that his Uncle seems pleased to know he's interested in. And he's pored over the pages so many times that the familiarity is soothing. It also puts the fear of God in him. As do Philip's frequent lessons. He's shaping up to be a very faithful little Christian.

Hunter also watches a lot of (Uncle approved) television. He's a tiny chatterbox but is pretty starved of socialization. If his Uncle isn't around, he's stuck with the family assistant Kiki, who usually ignores him. TV and books are mostly responsible for Hunter's expansive vocabulary.

As a shy but precocious little boy, his best friends are sweet, comforting preschool cartoon characters.

Even though Philip's life seemed to orbit around Hunter and he worked day and night for the sake of his nephew's success, a lot of the time he just....wasn't around. Sometimes Hunter went weeks without hearing from him and was left in the "care" of Kiki.

Hunter was always left wanting. On those lonely nights when Philip was away, he would beg Kiki to call him so Hunter could at least say goodnight. All for the sake of holding the phone tight against his ear and hearing his Uncle's soft spoken "Sleep well, Hunter," so his world felt a little less cold.

If Philip even answered.

But when Uncle was home, Hunter found himself with some very guilty feelings and ungrateful thoughts.

The details are not important. By that, I mean Hunter is quite uncomfortable recounting the things that used to happen in the Wittebane house when his Uncle was home.

He said them aloud once. At the age of sixteen, when his breathing was in sync with the girl he had fallen in love with and her fingers were tracing gentle paths down his bare back. He felt like he had melted into a world where he could say anything.

It didn't stop his voice from wavering nor his throat from threatening to close up. It was like he was having a full body rejection of the admission. These were secrets meant to remain locked up in his chest until his heart went still.

But he said them. And after that, they couldn't go back to being unsaid.

He didn't say them again for many years. It wasn't until he was a grown man. He wrote them down and he told the whole world.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

The point is that when Philip was away, Hunter got lonely and wanted his Uncle back. When Philip was home and focused all of his attention on his nephew, Hunter wanted nothing more than for him to be gone again. He knew that was an awful thing to want and the guilt ate him alive.

Did he not love his Uncle? Of course he did! He loved him more than anything.

That's why it hurt so much.

Sometimes, his Uncle was a comfort to Hunter's anxious heart. He held him in his arms and hushed him when Hunter had nightmares. He was safety.

And other times, he was the reason for those nightmares and Hunter didn't feel like he could be safe until that man was out of the house again.

Maybe, no matter what happened, he'd never be truly happy with any situation he was put in. Maybe the state of "being happy" just wasn't real, but a thing TV made up. There was just something inherently empty and scary about being alive.

At least that's the conclusion the small boy came to. This remained his mindset as he navigated the big loud upsetting world around him, which only got bigger and louder and more upsetting as Hunter got older and his career grew.

The most glaring problem Philip encountered grooming Hunter in Caleb's image was that there's a drastic difference between a man who achieved the most undiluted burst of stardom in his twenties and a toddler. Hunter can not immediately slide into the dignified shadow his father left behind, because he's too young for the kind of dramatic roles that Caleb had dazzled the world with.

There was nothing available to little Hunter that Philip felt lived up to the standards of Caleb in his prime. Which was understandable but disappointing. So, with a heavy exhale, which made Hunter worry the hem of this shirt ("Am I doing something wrong, Uncle?") Philip relented. Hunter would need a lengthy portfolio by the time he was older, so it was now time to start building this budding actor from the ground up.

Commercials, TV appearances, small film roles. Though it pained him to do so, Philip abandoned all the initial integrity he attached to his brother's legacy, and focused primarily on simply getting Hunter's face on a screen, any screen, whatever it took to get him entrenched in the industry.

Hunter was a lot more sensitive than other children. When he was very little, he had a bad tendency to get distressed over things like bright lights and unfamiliar places and weird textures. This led to a lot of on-set tantrums and he was deemed a difficult and entitled brat.

His "brattiness" never quite went away as he aged. But Philip did manage to curb those tendencies to be far less frequent. It involved brief private conversations in the nearest dressing room. When Hunter emerged, he was quieter and a lot more willing to co-operate with what the adults needed from him.

Hunter learned that misbehaving had consequences. He learned to swallow whatever obscure distress he was feeling and just do his job.

This didn't make his tantrums stop. They just shifted from regular occurances to big nasty explosions that build up over a period of weeks to months.

He eventually gave up trying to suppress them. It doesn't work. So, he just allows his emotions to burst out of him in the most humiliating public display a human being can put on, and then takes his punishment.

Uncle keeps telling him that people are going to think there's something wrong with him if he keeps doing this.

Hunter begs him to believe that there's not. There's not something wrong with him.

While it was happening, Philip would consider the 90s as a rocky beginning to his nephew's career. He didn't care much for any of the films or television series' Hunter appeared in, likely because he didn't care much for any production that included small children. So he was uninterested by default in any of the roles Hunter managed to book.

Regardless, this didn't make Philip any less demanding. Even if it was all tripe, and by God, he was very vocal about it all being tripe, he was still strict about Hunter's work ethic. The boy was expected to pour everything into his performance, and through there were very irritating child labor laws, Philip turned a blind eye to directors pushing the limits every now and again.

After long work days, Hunter would listen to his Uncle tear his current acting job to shreds. The stupid demeaning script that Caleb would be appalled at, but Hunter had no choice but to take, because he simply doesn't have the privilege to be picky.

Hunter felt a deep humiliation by his own career before he was even ten years of age. There was nothing that Philip held to Caleb standard, which left Hunter a paranoid wreck most of the time, fearing that he was always doing something wrong but never knowing how to fix it.

When he thinks back on being a little kid, he has a lot of memories of tearfully begging his Uncle to stop thinking of him a certain way or looking at him the way he does. He remembers his throat hurting. Things must have gotten loud.

An older Hunter would wince as he makes that connection. He remembers his throat hurting but not the consequences of raising his voice.

Every so often, a more prestigious opportunity presented itself to him (like the role of the protagonist's son in a film adaption of an American classic), and Hunter got so overwhelmed by the pressure of finally having something that could possibly hold a candle to Caleb Wittebane that he completely flubbed the audition and failed to book the role.

He knows that were dire consequences for not getting it. Although, once again, he doesn't remember the details of the punishment. But he remembers how tightly Uncle gripped his wrist as they walked out of the building. He remembers sitting perfectly still in the car, scared to make a sound by wriggling in his seat. Scared to breathe.

That was the 90s. That was Hunter's experience as a young child actor.

By the year 2000, he was ten and that's when Philip quietly realized something.

Hunter currently resembled Caleb Wittebane in miniature. He had his strong nose, his ashy hair, his dark eyes. Philip had always anticipated that there may be a bit of her in his nephew's appearance, but there wasn't a trace. It was beyond ideal.

This is when things should have gotten easier. This is when dignified job opportunities should have begun rolling in. This is when the world should have taken notice that Caleb Wittebane was not dead.

But this was not the case.

What Philip did not anticipate was that the industry had changed significantly since the 80s. It was the year 2000 and a young Caleb Wittebane was not what the industry wanted the future of film to look like.

He realized this in his study late one night as he obsessed over old video tapes. And once the truth had sunk in, he called Hunter into the room.

Hunter remembers wearing red pajamas patterned with beagle puppies. He has a memory of liking those pajamas a lot but can't recall the disappointment of growing out of them and throwing them away. It makes him suspect that at some point he just stopped wearing them.

On that night, a part of Philip gave up completely. He decided that this attempt of reviving his late brother's career was a failure before it had even started.

However, Philip was a deeply complex man. A remarkably stubborn man. So even when a part of him died, another part flared with life. It was the part of him that wanted to dig his heels in and say he wasn't done yet. Maybe they didn't want Caleb now, but this world was fickle. Who knows what they'd want in five years? In ten?

Hunter would continue making a name for himself, Philip would make sure of that.

Hunter would be something special if it damn near kills him.

And if he fails, Philip would kill the boy himself.

So, Hunter continues working diligently, attempting to find his footing in the rapidly changing environment. The early 2000s seem to be working overtime to distance itself from the 90s and it certainly takes some getting used to.

When Hunter is around eleven, he is told for the first time that he is not very nice to look at. According to various make up artists and hair stylists who he is left in the custody of when Kiki is god knows where, it's very easy to be cute as a small child. Baby fat n' all. But at a certain age, you start outgrowing it and that's when it becomes apparent whether you're going to be a handsome young man or not.

They gently break the news that there are not a lot of promising signs for Hunter. As one of the women, maybe in her late twenties, cups his face in her hands and tilts it towards the light (he really hates when strangers touch him), she sucks through her teeth and winces, as though she's trying to dig something out with her eyes but is coming up short. Nothing about his features reads as a future leading man. He can still have a steady acting career of course. But it's important he not get his hopes up too high. He's doesn't look like the typical Hollywood star.

Hunter argues with her. He riles himself up until his face flushes with rage. He looks just like his father, who was one of the most famous leading men of all time.

"Who's your Dad?" The woman asks.

Hunter frowns. He's never said the word "Dad" in his life. But the full name is familiar on his tongue when he answers the question.

"Oh, yeah," She says vaguely. "I think my parents used to watch his movies. I guess he was what they considered handsome in the 80s but..."

He doesn't like the way she trails off. He doesn't like all the new information being presented to him. He doesn't like her saying Caleb Wittebane wasn't handsome. In the world Hunter lives in, the man is picture perfect in every discernable way. He's never heard a bad word spoken of his father before, not even of the shallow variety. Uncle only lets him speak to people with nice things to say about Caleb. It's so jarring that it makes him feel nauseous. This isn't the way things are supposed to be.

And what's even worse, does looking like Caleb Wittebane not even matter?

Does this legacy he's supposed to carry on not matter?

That's always been one of his biggest fears, but he can not think about it for too long or the meltdown gets bad. But this new realization about his apparently mediocre looks catch him so off guard that he can't help it this time.

Hunter proceeds to hyperventilate in a supply closet for the next twenty minutes. He had never thought about what he looked like before. He had never really cared. He didn't know his appearance could hinder his career. He didn't know everything could fall apart just by having the face he does.

This is when a deep seated insecurity centered around his body image began spiraling out of control. It was also around the time that Hunter's dietary restrictions were being implemented, as were the intensity of his ballet lessons. This certainly did not help his already deteriorating self confidence.

From that point, Hunter is far more conscious of his own ambitions as an actor. He believes he is more than just a little boy who performs because it's what his Uncle tells him to do. He's a young man who wants to become a success like his father before him. He wants recognition. He wants acclaim. He wants...he wants....he wants something that he does not currently have.

As an adult, Hunter can only drag his fingers through his hair and sigh sympathetically at the thought of his young self believing that his determination to be a successful was ever for himself. It was for Uncle. It was for Caleb Wittebane. It was for everybody but himself. He was just a stupid kid who thought he wanted this because he knew nothing else.

The 2000s are a time when Hunter simultaneously starts slipping out of his iron confines, while getting reeled back tighter than ever. As he grows older, his curiosity becomes more and more insatiable and current pop culture is not as easy to shield him from. Especially when it's such a huge part of his life as an actor.

By the age of twelve, he's such a boring obedient self sufficient little robot that Kiki doesn't even bother monitoring him as severely as she once had. What's he gonna do, really?

And though Hunter is adamant that he never breaks his Uncle's rules, he finds himself shattering them to smithereens on a regular basis.

"I like authority. And rules," He says, ignoring the fact that there are piles of teen magazines tucked away under his mattress. Ignoring the hour of TV he sneaked in that Philip would have shattered the television screen over.

And no matter how many times Hunter wrinkles his nose in disapproval at how rowdy and frivolous today's youth are, he's still reading those trashy articles, desperate to find some connection. His small bubble of worldliness is beginning to grow.

It is slowly occuring to Hunter that he is much different than other kids. But that's a good thing....right? He's on a cleaner path than they are. None of them are being led by Philip Wittebane.

This is a good thing, he tells himself. This is a good thing, this is a good thing, this is a good thing--

However, Philip does crack down on an aspect of Hunter's autonomy that has been mostly ignored until now.

Though he tries not to think about it, as it gives him the most splitting headache, Philip must internally acknowledge those rumors from an age ago. The word of mouth telephone that crackled with the events of that one ridiculous party. Caleb Wittebane, age 17(!!!!) with his tongue down some filthy girl's throat.

The news hadn't been as scandalous as Philip viewed it as, and the world forgot about it remarkably fast. But he never forgot. And he never would. It was a pesky stain on the otherwise clean image that Philip was trying to preserve.

It hadn't been Caleb. It wasn't like him at all to behave in such an indecent way. It was her influence. It always was. Sometimes his blood boiled when he remembered how deeply interwoven she had become in his brother's life. How the child wouldn't even exist without her. It was vile. Eternally contaminating a narrative she had no business being a part of.

Obviously, he never told Hunter about all this. About the party. About the tongue. About the girl. He never mentioned the girl. She was a footnote at best.

Anyway, Hunter was almost thirteen. He was tumbling into adolescence. And no matter how singleminded and sensible he tried to act, there would be challenges to this physical and mental development. And Philip knew from personal experience that there was nothing more damaging to a clean Christian boy than fizzling teenage hormones.

There would not be a repeat of last time.

On Hunter's thirteenth birthday, his Uncle gifted him a chastity ring, like many of the other young people that attended their church.

Hunter was so floored by the gift he forgot how to speak. And when his Uncle put his hand on his shoulder and murmured "I know you won't let me down," Hunter had nodded solemnly, suddenly feeling so much older than he had been a moment before.

He now had a responsibility to refrain from things he hardly understood.

Philip felt this would be an effective precaution. It made Hunter feel important and Hunter loved to feel important.

All that concerned Philip was that the boy stick to his morals.

Keeping his stupid tongue in his stupid mouth was only the tip of the iceberg of what the rules of the chastity ring entailed, but Philip stressed the importance of it nonetheless.

And if the boy failed to do this one simple thing, Philip was going to gouge his eyes out.

A few months later, Hunter was hired to appear in an advertisement produced by his family's church. He, and several other actors in his age range, promoted the rings they wore to the children watching at home.

Hunter was very proud to be a part of it. He rarely got to do anything educational.

When Hunter was fourteen, he surprisingly booked a role as Sir William in some medieval fantasy film for swoony teen girls.

He rolled his eyes over it, but this was the point when Philip made it apparent to Hunter that swoony teen girls was a huge chunk of the target demographic of any actor his age so he best begin pandering. He was no Edric Blight (Hunter fucking hated Edric Blight) but he'd probably appeal to some.

The means of obtaining the role was not Hunter's talent alone, but it was because of a perfectionist director who wanted raw, emotionally gripping action scenes, and was disappointed that all the hazardous exploits in the script would require stunt doubles. No parent in their right mind would allow their child to be put in such dangerous conditions.

Enter Philip Wittebane and his nephew Hunter.

The film's shooting schedule had a rough history. And after a few months, production had to stop altogether when an on-set accident resulted in Hunter being sent to the hospital.

He remembers the hospital, specifically the very uncomfortable bed. He remembers rarely sleeping through the night unless he was drugged, as he kept waking up with panic attacks about all the money he was causing the studio to lose by not healing faster.

By the time the film released, Hunter was fifteen and already moving forward with his next project.

The Golden Guard was a TV adaption of a well loved comic book series that was currently in the development stages. Hunter has never read the comic (he's never read most comics, other than newspaper funny pages) but he's been informed that he is the spitting image of the titular character.

Initially he was skeptical. Who wants a famous superhero on their screen who looks like him? Certainly not current networks who have a very limited view of what leading men should look like, regardless of the comic it's being adapted from.

Apparently, a lot of negotiations have been taking place with the Golden Guard's creator, in order to obtain rights to the series. After months of arguing, they wore him down, as they always manage to wear creators down, and he agreed to hand over his baby.

The one condition that he managed to secure was that the boy cast for the screen resembled the boy on the page.

Hunter was fully aware that if it weren't for that old man's stubbornness, there was no way he would have been eligible for the role. He remembered seeing him appear once during a screen test and had wanted to thank him. The speech that fell out of him was flustered and clumsy, but it made the man smile.

"There are going to massacre the Golden Guard," He said with a bitter smile. "But I think you'll do well."

He never saw him again after that. And though Hunter did not have the frame of reference to have an opinion, the girl he would inevitably fall in love with happened to be a huge comic book nerd, being especially infatuated with the Golden Guard. And her opinions were strong.

"He was right, y'know," She would inform Hunter. "Your show is a steaming pile of shit." She would then kiss the tip of his nose. "But you're the best part of it."

Speaking of girls,

Hunter met Emira Blight a year prior when she and her twin brother also showed up for the chastity ring promotional ad. The two of them would have gotten fired for vandalizing the set and pranking the director if they weren't the most well known stars associated with the project.

Someone had tried to contact their mother to come get her children under control but she had failed to pick up the phone.

"Our precious little Mittens has an audition today," Emira explained, hands placed angelically behind her back.

"Until further notice, Mom has forgotten she has two other kids," Added Edric.

Emira smiled. "Like the next time she notices her stretch marks <33"

The two of them burst into giggles. They were left to be "disciplined" by members of the crew, who hadn't the faintest idea how to handle either of them.

Hunter had tried to avoid them while on set. He never had any personal encounters with them but he was well aware of their existence. They had been starring in twin centric comedies for the last decade or so, and were beloved talk show guests for being chatty, mischievous and overall "adorable."

Hunter found them obnoxious.

Edric more so than Emira. Especially lately, as the two were finally branching out into their own separate careers, rather than remaining a double act. Meaning Edric could be found sniffing around in the same auditions rooms as Hunter, going for the same roles.

Edric had a perfectly structured face, devoid of blemishes. He had the most photoshopped nose Hunter had ever seen, except he looked like that in real life apparently. He looked perfect and he was already a star to begin with. The roles were his the moment he stepped into the room.

But this wasn't about Edric. Edric was off somewhere else, performing the leading role in some teen musical movie that was going to become a worldwide phenomenon the moment it hit television screens.

This was about Emira, who had just been cast as Ruby Green, the Golden Guard's love interest.

Emira Blight was one of the most beautiful teenage girls in the entire world. Hunter knew this because he read it in a magazine once. More specifically, she placed 4th on the list, but that was still a pretty impressive accomplishment.

Hunter always had a difficult time deciphering the exact definition of beautiful. It was apparently a far different thing than what you would initially imagine.

From what he had gathered, it had nothing to do with being particularly interesting to look at, but having a nice and tidy face with all its features being a specific size and shape. He couldn't understand how one girl on that list could be in 8th place, while another could be in 3rd, as they all looked so startlingly similar.

That was what beautiful meant, he supposed.

There were definitely people that Hunter saw as beautiful in their own peculiar way. In the way that wasn't correct. Sometimes he saw them in movies from the 80s-90s. Sometimes he saw them in audition rooms, but they rarely booked the role.

Sometimes he even saw them on the street as the car drove past, people who made him sit up and want to look at them a little longer--

Girls. Girls on the street. Just girls. Only girls. It was only girls that he looked at on the street. It was only girls that he looked at ever.

Emira Blight had Edric's perfectly structured face, which made her beautiful in a celebrity kind of way, but also made Hunter want to look at her less. She had Rapunzel hair and a rail thin frame and, much to Hunter's dismay, she was taller than him.

The wardrobe department were given notes to add an extra few inches to the Golden Guard's boots.

"Little Prince indeed," The head stylist had murmured under his breath, just loud enough for Hunter to hear. An furious flush set his face aflame.

There were no screen test to determine Hunter and Emira's chemistry before the latter was cast, which resulted in hours of reshoots where they were chastised for the lack of romantic tension that they were putting into their performance.

To be perfectly honest, Hunter disliked Emira quite a bit and she disliked him too.

She carried her troublemaking tendencies from the promotional ad to the Golden Guard set, frequently wreaking havoc on the cast and crew.

Hunter had blown a gasket and berated her for it several times, but all she had done was smile her insufferable smile, roll her eyes and sing songingly tease him for being so uptight.

She made him mad. So uncomfortably mad. If he pulled the kind of stunts she pulled, without caring about the consequences, he would probably be dead by now.

Emira rarely got angry. Everything she did had this air of impish joy, but based on the way she spoke to Hunter, her opinion of him wasn't exactly glowing.

She called him arrogant, bossy, egotistical, to which he practically exploded in response. And then she made fun of how red in the face he got.

The only time Hunter ever saw Emira as anything less than her usual bombastic self was early in the morning, during hair and makeup.

"Are you washing your face, honey?"

"Yes," Answered Emira, looking smaller than ever in the makeup chair.

"Drinking plenty of water? Eating healthy? Staying away from junk food? Getting plenty of exercise?"

"Yes, yes, yes and yes," Emira's voice was quiet and automatic.

After a pause, she continued "It's not my fault."

The makeup artist hummed, unconvinced, which made Emira grip the seat so hard her fingers shook.

But the woman didn't push the matter any more and got to work on painting Emira's face into the porcelain masterpiece that made its way on to magazines.

Hunter watched in fascination as a few minutes of work with sponges and brushes wiped her skin clear of acne. And then she was what everyone around here would call beautiful once again.

When Emira noticed him looking, she said, in her usual playfully indifferent voice "I think Hunter's eyebags are getting worse."

"We know," The woman replied, exasperated.

The comment wasn't much, but it successfully corralled Hunter into his default mood. Not being enough. Any thoughts about Emira flew out the window, and he was back to fretting about his own inadequacy.

"And he's more sickly looking than usual," Emira decided to add.

"Well, maybe if he laid off the coffee. It's got him looking like a half-dead ghoul. No wonder it takes so long to make him look presentable."

It was a bad time for Hunter to be taking a sip of his takeaway cup. He frowned. "I've been awake since 4:30am."

"You should go to bed earlier then,"

"But I--"

"And kids shouldn't be drinking coffee at all."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Hush up. We've got work to do on this face and the last thing I need is to listen to you bitching again,"

Hunter glowered at her.

"You're gonna have wrinkles before you're 18 if you keep pouting like that."

He was so preoccupied with not throwing a temper tantrum that he didn't notice Emira leave the room.

The worst thing she ever did was while they were filming episode 3 and she had decided that Hunter's uptight behaviour deserved a humbling punishment. He didn't know how but she had somehow managed to break into his trailer and scavenged the place for something embarrassing.

This resulted in his stuffed frog Sprig being paraded around the set in Emira's arms as she declared the toy's owner to everyone who would listen in a high pitched trill. Everybody. She told everybody. Everybody knew about his toy. And now nobody was going to treat him seriously.

And when Hunter finally processed what was happening, all he had wanted to do was cry.

But he couldn't cry. Because fifteen year old boys don't cry. But he wanted to cry so badly that his usual screaming rage was nonexistent. He was just completely deflated.

He silently took the frog from Emira's possession and walked away. She had seemed confused, not understanding why he was not turning his funny red colour and yelling his head off.

She didn't bait him as much after that. She rarely spoke to him at all, outside of filming.

At one point she had randomly burst into his trailer, brandishing a magazine full of women in bikinis.

"For you!" She announced proudly. "A gift."

Hunter was a little slow on the uptake because a bikini magazine being within ten feet of his person was so incriminating that immediately thinking of the consequences nearly made him black out.

When he could speak again, he exploded "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?? GET THIS OUT OF HERE!!"

"No, no, listen," Emira insisted. "I know your Uncle is like. Super Christian--"

"So am I!"

"And I know you're never gonna get your hands on this stuff by yourself. So, I'm helping,"

"Why do you even have this?" Hunter demanded, disgusted.

Emira took more than half a second to answer. "It's Ed's."

As if anything on earth could have made Hunter want to touch the thing less.

"Why..." He began, lost. "Why would you ever think I would want this?"

Emira cocked her head at him, puzzled. "You're a boy."

"Get out."

At the time, Hunter had presumed this to be another means of humiliating him, because he had quickly written Emira off as inexplicably cruel. But in hindsight, she had probably just been trying, in her own emotionally stunted way, to apologize to him. She had known next to nothing about boys and she knew even less about herself, other than she was a thing boys were meant to be obsessed with.

They were both just stupid kids who couldn't communicate properly to save their lives, because they had never learned how.

As a child, Emira ranged from a mild bully to an indifferent co-star, to an acquaintance of Hunter's. As an adult, she was the close friend in his Instagram comments section who kept hitting on his wife.

She still never figured out boys, but she figured out herself.

But again, getting ahead of ourselves.

Despite being the only two teenagers on set, Hunter and Emira did not spend much time together unless they were working. Once she settled down and stopped causing problems, Emira spent a lot of her time across the studio to visit her little sister, who was filming some preteen comedy show.

Hexside it was called. Some some vapid sugary husk of a television production that had magic and witches, yet not an ounce of dignity. Hunter had become quite a ruthless critic when it came to TV and film, mostly because he had spent his whole life in the company of a man with sky high standards.

It also helped him feel better about his own work as an actor. The glass half full method. Maybe the Golden Guard was not going to be the most brilliant show of all time, but at least he wasn't working on Hexside.

He had caught glimpses of Emira's sister a few times around the studio, mostly because her hair had been dyed a bright garish teal, so she was impossible to miss.

There were other cast members scattered about, you could usually tell from the explosion of layers and clashing patterns they were dressed in. Chunky belts, brightly coloured converse, weird pointy hats, jangly jewelry. They were a visual overload.

On one occasion, Hunter was waiting in line at the canteen. He was feeling lightheaded again, like if he didn't eat something in the next hour he would probably pass out while shooting. The last time that happened, it was really embarrassing.

He was a little zoned out, so he didn't pay them much attention at first. But then the poofy tutu-like skirt and zebra print leggings caught his eye, if only for him to wonder how in the Lord's name these young actors ever signed up for this ridiculous show.

It was a girl and a boy and their conversation entailed some familiar words and names that Hunter hadn't heard said in months.

Ah. The movie. The swoony teen girl movie. That had just released in theaters, hadn't it?

That's when the girl brazenly stated "I wanna sink my teeth into Sir William," successfully knocking Hunter straight out of the realm of sensibility.

What. In the name of all that is holy. Is that supposed to mean???

And also.....he's Sir William.

"You want to BITE ME??" Hunter finds himself blurting out, completely flummoxed. Was that a threat of violence? Did she not like his performance? Did she find his voice annoying like those other film critics? He used to get a lot of death threats for that when he was younger but...

It didn't really sound like a death threat. It was was just....absurd. How was he supposed to take this?

The girl whipped around, flashing Hunter with a very bright pair of green eyes. They were blown wide in panic, and she looked at him like he was the one about to bite her.

(He wasn't about to bite her.)

The girl wasn't tall, but she was big. Broad shoulders and a thick chubby build. Her face was rounder than he usually saw in young actresses, and her nose was wide and flat.

All he could really think as he was digesting these all details at once was....she was interesting to look at.

Hunter watched as a fluorescent shade of pink burned across her lightly freckled cheeks and the girl scurried away, flanked by the younger boy, calling after her.

For some reason, Hunter turned around to watch her leave until she was completely out of sight.

He was left more confused than ever.

What did he do that deserved biting? He never found out.

(Well, he found out eventually but....)

He continued to see that girl around the studio sometimes, as well as the young boy that accompanied her, and Emira's little sister.

The bigger girl usually tried to hide whenever she saw him, though Hexside's flamboyant wardrobe department made that nearly impossible. Hunter presumed she was embarrassed by what she said, though he really wasn't all that offended. He had heard way worse. The thing that drew his attention to her was actually the lengths she would go to to make herself invisible. He watched her dive under a table once.

Hunter usually just stared, not remembering until an hour later that embarrassed people don't like being stared at.

Eventually, Hunter and Emira started spending occasional school hours with the Hexside cast's tutor, which resulted in them all being lumped in a room together.

Her name was Willow Park, he learned. And with a little exposure therapy, she stopped blushing every time he was within ten feet of her. Though they still never really talked, she seemed to become a little more comfortable with his existence.

She didn't look at him much though. Or anybody for that matter. She seemed to be very guarded and closed off whenever they were in the school room. Hunter had also noticed that the tutor had to spend more time with her than anyone else.

But Willow Park was not currently where Hunter's head was at the moment. He had other things to deal with.

The recent Golden Guard script had been delivered to Hunter and did not really like what it had to say.

Apparently several episodes of the romantic tension that Hunter and Emira were famously bad at was finally coming to fruition in this big grand dramatic kiss scene.

Hunter did not think about kissing much because it made him feel very weird and squirmy, but he was always well aware that if he was ever kissing a girl anytime soon, it would probably be circumstances like this.

His opinion on romance in general is that he wasn't quite sure if it was something that could really happen in real life or if it was just a concept made up for TV.

First kisses were considered a milestone in the shows and magazines Hunter had secretly devoured. Something sacred and significant. It can't be with just anyone.

Admittedly, it had Hunter second guessing himself a little bit. Is his first kiss important? Or is that just a bunch of silly TV fluff with no grounds in reality?

It doesn't matter if it's Emira, does it? He's read books where first kisses are supposed to feel like you've been electrocuted. But in a good way. He can't imagine being electrocuted in a good way.

He gets his answer on the day of shooting when the kiss is ordered of him.

He should be grateful that they've been directed to keep it chaste. They both wear rings after all, and this is a family show.

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, because eyes are always shut when people kiss in movies. And his mouth pricks Emira's mouth. And that's it. That's his first kiss over and done with.

And when he opens his eyes, a little underwhelmed and vaguely wondering why everything feels the exact same, Emira looks disappointed too.

That's when he realizes that the significance of first kisses is all lights and cameras. It's made up for TV. None of it is real.

But what he can't understand in the moment is why he feels a bit sad. There's no reason to feel sad.

But it's an annoyingly heavy emotion that sticks with him for the rest of the day.

They do a million shoots. Or what feels like a million. Hunter kisses Emira what feels like a million times. He had gone from having never kissed before to having kissed far too many times in one day.

And not a single kiss felt like anything but the usual emptiness that Hunter was used to.

During shooting breaks, he thought a little too much about how everything was just going to be like this. Forever. All of his experiences. Scripted. Made up. Not real.

Nothing was ever going to be real.

He didn't usually think about things like that. But now he was finding it hard to think about anything else.

Hunter couldn't sleep that night. You would think he'd sleep soundly when he had to get up before the crack of dawn, but he continued to struggle. Too much caffeine, too much brain bees that never shut up.

Tonight it was that one single thought of an entirely artificial lifetime.

Hunter was never going to be real.

After hours of restless tossing and turning, he left his bed and went downstairs, his footsteps expertly navigating across the creaky floorboards. He would watch something terrible on TV and he'd get so distracted by hating it that he'd forget his own problems.

After pushing a button, the first thing that appeared on Hunter's screen was a familiar girl's rounder than average face and bright green eyes.

Apparently, the Hexside Pilot had premiered recently. Hunter scoffed, making himself comfortable and deliberately tuning into whatever brain rotting stuff he was about to experience.

Unsurprisingly, he hated it. It was terrible. Cheap jokes. Flimsy plots. An obnoxious laugh track. He had never seen a worse show in his life.

Nothing is real, I'm not real, I'm not real, Nothing is real, I'm not real....

The costumes looked just as ridiculous on screen as they did in the studio.

Nothing is real....

The sets were cheap.

I'm not real....

Hunter abruptly paused mid laugh track, and stared at Willow Park's interesting face for an additional moment.

He knew absolutely nothing about this girl. Absolutely nothing.

The character she played was borderline illiterate, and Hunter genuinely could not say how much of her he was seeing was a script and how much was her.

But she was very lookable.

Are you real?

[thegreatestofheck]

Heck’s Masterlist

OBX Masterlist

Since some of my fics are getting long, here’s a masterlist of everything I’ve made so far in relation to Outer Banks! It will continually be updated as more fics, blurbs, and requests are added!

Also, my requests are open! I don’t generally do smut, but I’m open to mostly anything else!

JJ Maybank 

Requests:  

Jump -  You are John B’s sister and you’ve been following him around your whole life. After deciding to make your own path, you find yourself caught up with a boy who is no good and JJ is the only one who can get you out of it.

Wedding Dress -  JJ makes a promise to himself that he’s now not sure he can keep.

Run - You’re John B’s sister and after sending him off on the Phantom, it’s up to you to cover for him. But Ward Cameron is still your legal guardian and he comes to collect his property.

Ransom -  John B’s sister is taken by the square groupers. In exchange for her life, they ask for the compass and a heavy ransom price. It’s a race of time as the Pogues, with the help of Sheriff Peterkin, journey into the marsh to save her life before the clock runs out.

Not So Unrequited -  in the middle of an argument with your best friend, he says something to you that you had never wanted to hear.

i love you -  your relationship with JJ had always been rocky, built on a mutual desire for affection. that doesn’t mean he would never break your heart.

fill the void - she always felt alone, so when he needed her most, she couldn’t resist.

promises, promises - You and JJ have an unspoken thing, passed only though stolen glances and half serious flirting. But the day after he takes the fall for Pope, you find yourself standing at a crossroads; do you step in to protect him from his dad, or do you stay out of it?

Series: 

Ocean and Alcohol - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, Epilogue, Rafe’s POV)  You’re a kook, but your life is less than ideal. After a fight with some of the other kooks, you let slip a little about your home life to one JJ Maybank, who is more than intrigued. (reader insert with a name, tw: abuse, canon content)

Tempest and Gin - (1, 2)   The gold is gone, but Elma’s problems are just beginning. With her dad in police custody and her mom once again AWOL and refusing to pay for legal council, Elma and Ms. Lana struggle to get through the trial with a court appointed lawyer. At the end of her rope, Elma finds herself juggling friends, family, rivals, and enemies as she struggles to keep her wits about her and do the one thing she’s always done; protect Kid.

Girl With No Heartbeat - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)  After a near death experience, JJ is saved by a girl in the water. When he and the Pogues find her washed ashore the next day, they are more than surprised to discover that she isn’t your everyday girl. (mermaid/siren au, canon divergence) 

Imagines:

Sweet as Honey, Hard as Steel -  JJ’s girlfriend is the complete opposite of everything one would expect. A straight A student with big life goals, Elena has never been the drinking, smoking, fighting type. And JJ wouldn’t have it any other way.

Coward -  Your mom just passed and your absentee father has come to collect you. But that means leaving the life you knew and loved, including your best friend (and a little more), JJ Maybank. But he isn’t ready to hear what you have to say on your last night together. 

Rafe Cameron

Series: 

Fire and Storm - Rafe Cameron had always wanted her. He wanted to be hers and he wanted her to be his. But she wasn’t and he was slowly beginning to realize that he never would be. (this is Rafe’s POV for a bit of another series, Ocean and Alcohol)

Requests: 

Better -  Secretly dating Rafe as JJ Maybank’s sister isn’t the easiest thing, especially when your brother finally learns the truth. 

Imagines: 

Meant to Be Yours -  Rafe Cameron, your boyfriend, was more broken than you realized. He wants more from you than you can give. (based on the song “Meant to Be Yours” from Heathers the Musical)

John B

Imagines: 

Girl Crush -  You spent years yearning after John B, your best friend. You just didn’t realize it until he fell in love with the most beautiful girl on the island...and it wasn’t you. After that, only Sarah Cameron was on your mind. (based on the song “Girl Crush”)

Tethered - (routledge!reader, John B’s little sister) Surfing the surge was a Pogue rite of passage. You had been waiting for the next big storm to show your older brother that you were ready to be one of them. But the storm was stronger than you or your brother could have imagined.

Just Come Home - (routledge!reader, John B’s little sister) You come home one day to find your brother bearing harsh news. 

Series:

By Dawn - (1, 2, 3) John B meets a mysterious girl at his court ordered group therapy. After spending weeks trying to get to know her, he slowly realizes that she’s a tough nut to crack. But then one day, she leaves him a cryptic message...the night before she goes missing. With the disappearance of his father still so raw in his mind, John B refuses to lose anyone else. And he will stop at nothing until he finds her.

Sarah Cameron 

Imagines: 

Girl Crush -  You spent years yearning after John B, your best friend. You just didn’t realize it until he fell in love with the most beautiful girl on the island...and it wasn’t you. After that, only Sarah Cameron was on your mind. (based on the song “Girl Crush”)

Kie Carrera 

Imagines: 

For Forever -  When you’re parents find out that you’ve been secretly dating your best friend, Kie, they go off on you. Afterward, she comforts you, reminding you that blood doesn’t mean family. (tw: homophobia, found family to the max) 

she -  As a Pogue, having a crush on Kie Carrera was almost a prerequisite. You knew that all the boys were crushing on her, at least a little bit, but accepting your own feelings for her is a different matter. (reader has a crush on Kie but isn’t really ready to admit her feelings) 

Requests: 

Nothing More -  You’re secretly dating one of the Pogues and your brother is starting to become suspicious. The only problem; he’s fixated on the wrong friend.

Pope Heyward 

Imagines: 

Nothing to Prove -  Pope helps you with some relationship problems. Later, while hanging out with your boyfriend, you realize that running from your fears got you nowhere and the only place you wanted to be was with Pope. (very soft)

Delivery Boy - With an absent mother and a distant father, you’ve always felt alone living in your empty house. But a certain delivery boy might be the one thing that makes running an estate worth it.

Seires: 

Bare Bones -  (Preview, Theory 1, Theory 2, Theory 3) Pippa Cantu has always been a little���strange. With a knack for knowing everything there is to know about every conspiracy, every mystery, and every weird happening, she doesn’t have much time (or desire) for friends. But when her chemistry lab partner asks her to join him and his friends on a hunt for the Royal Merchant, she just can’t say no.

Kelce 

Series: 

Simple Melancholy -  (2) Jemma “Little J” Maybank finds herself a little over her head when she accidentally falls for a boy from Figure Eight. Between her overly protective brother and Kelce’s incredibly rude friends, neither of them are sure how they’re going to make it, but they’re determined to.

General (Everybody)

Imagines:

Do Not Stand - One of the Pogues passes away and leaves a message for her friends. Each of them take it in a different way. 

Series: 

Little Village - (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, Finale)  As the oldest of the Pogues and John B’s big sister, June always acted as their mother. She helped with assignments and studying, helped pay bills when it was needed, made dinner, reminded them about hygiene. But then she got pregnant and her boyfriend left and suddenly she found herself unable to do all those things she was once able to. When they say it takes a village, she wasn’t entirely sure they meant a bunch of teenagers. (post-canon, I haven’t decided who the love interest will be or if there will be one at all, so that’s why its here)

Requests: 

Homeward Bound -  After spending years abroad at a boarding school, Kie’s sister returns to the Outer Banks. The Pogues quickly realize that, despite her cold exterior, there is a free spirit inside her just longing to break free. 

A Bunch of Love Stories Masterlist - A series of fics based on Taylor Swift’s album “Fearless”. 

Outerbanks Playlist - This is just a list of songs that remind of the Pogues and other characters in the show. A few of the songs are connected to some of my fics as well! 

ATLA Masterlist

Zuko

The Sun, The Moon, and the Stars - She is a non-bender from the Southern Water Tribe who somehow found herself smack in the middle of Fire Nation central, where a young prince is fighting an internal battle she hopes to help him win.

Harry Potter Masterlist

Fred Weasley 

warm - you and your husband survive the second wizarding war, but so do some of Voldemort’s old followers, and they are hell bent on revenge. 

Severus Snape

The Other Her -  Severus Snape had two friends while he was at school. One, every body knew as Lily Evans. The other was you, an unknown student who wanted nothing more than to be noticed by your friend. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to the Gryffindor heartthrob every time he mentioned her name.

Only One -  You return to Hogwarts years later to watch your son’s Quidditch match, only to find yourself a little bit in over your head.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek Morgan

breathe again -  he saved her life and now she has to deal with the aftermath. he’s there to help her every step of the way.

Aaron Hotchner

dark of the night -  an agent gets taken in the middle of an investigation. in a race against time, the team at the bau must find her by diving into her deepest secrets. when a video tape arrives with horrible images of the state of their friends, aaron hotchner realizes just how terrified he is of losing her. 

The Musketeers (BBC) Masterlist

Porthos

enough for you -  the wife of a musketeer reflects on her relationship with her husband while Porthos watches from the sidelines.  

[anabetel35]

So, I wrote this a while ago for a MHA U.A traitor playlist thingy, not sure why but I want to post it here too?

Anyway, It’s kinda angsty if you couldn’t guess already.

The reader is gender neutral, since they’re usually referred to as ‘you’, but their pronouns are they/them.

(TW) : suicide, death, blood

♥︎♡♥︎

You never meant it to end like this. Really. You never meant to be your closest friends’ doom. Or the doom of the entire hero community at that.

It all started in middle school. You were never very significant to the other students. It wasn’t like you weren’t friends with them. You just weren’t best friends. Compared to your peers, you were just about average. Your grades, your looks, your strength, your skills, ambitions… and your quirk. It was a simple one, allowing you to summon small objects. It wasn’t very useful, but there were a few instances that it came in handy.

Ever since you were a child, your only goal was to become a hero and save as many people as you could. But considering your lack of physical strength or exceptional wit, you considered other career paths than professional hero. Like a firefighter, or a police officer. And if you weren’t able to gain the strength necessary for that, you could become a therapist, or someone else who doesn’t rescue people out in the open that often.

But all those plans were canceled once the accident took place. You had no idea just what happened, but it was bad for sure. There was a mental block surrounding this memory, making you unable to recall a single thing from it. All your remembered was the sharp feeling of steel against your neck. It was your hand that held the weapon that took your life.

As soon as the red liquid left your body along with all life that once remained in it, your vision was painted with a blinding, white light. You wondered if this was the afterlife, and if so, what kind of an afterlife this was.

“My my, so much of wasted potential,” a voice filled the endless white void. It didn’t leave your mouth, so you assumed that it wasn’t your own.

“It’s sad to see all these poor souls leave,” they continued, “and I’m not going to let you be one of them.” You finally turned towards them, seeing a dark figure extending their arm out to you. Compared to the void around you, they were almost as blinding as their surroundings. Just in a different way.

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll give you my quirk and in return, you’ll deliver some information to some people. Sounds good?” Their voice was so sweet, it would have been impossible to decline their offer. Your hand was already grasping for theirs when they stopped talking. As soon as it grabbed the other hand, a cold feeling spread through your body.

“Good.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness from them spread through the entire room was their head, tilted to the side a sinister smirk on their lips. It was all so familiar, but you had no idea why.

Cold sweat covered the back of your pajamas when you shot awake. Your heart was racing, but it only confirmed that unlike the last time you were in your living quarters, you were alive.

♥︎♡♥︎

Some time later, you were walking home from the U.A entrance exams. The sky was all gloomy, maybe as a response to your mood. There was no way that you passed, at all. You might be alive, but you didn’t receive the quirk you were promised. You also didn’t pass on any information, since you had no idea what intel was meant for who.

The music in your headphones blocked out all the outside noise. Even the sound of a car headed for you, as loud as it was. You were able to see this car at the very last moment, already unable to react. It was a truck full of villains who couldn’t care less about a teenager in their way.

The music slowed down so much that it stopped, as your life flashed before your eyes for the second time. This time, your attention lingered on the memory of the morning you woke up from your weird vision.

You saw white once more, before waking up in your bed. Your back felt cold and your calendar very clearly said that it was the same morning as the one after your vision.

After staring at the wall for a good amount of time, it was clear to you what the stranger’s quirk was. Whenever you’d die, you would come back to the last time you thought of.

Thanks to these opportunities, you managed to think of a plan on how to get into U.A and become number one hero of Japan. Well, so far, you’ve only managed to get into the hero school. Class 1-A to be exact.

In there, you’ve made many friends. They were all such good people, even though they had their lows.

As you told the stranger back then, you told any information about your school to someone. It wasn’t your choice to do so. You never had control over it, you just remembered that it happened.

As time went on and the number of incidents around your class rose, you began to have suspicions about who you were passing on intel to. Many nights, you couldn’t sleep because of the guilt eating you up.

You knew that there was no going back, simply because the number of times you died and came back became so high you couldn’t keep count anymore. And though your thoughts were quite mean, it was nothing compared to the look on your friends’ faces when you stood beside All For One.

And although you did your best to help the heroes, you were a villain. You were standing next to the league of villains as you observed your classmates, friends, teachers and idols from above.

All of them showed a mix of different emotions. Some were more angered, others were more sad. Some were purely shocked, too afraid to admit the truth to themselves.

“Why, why….? I thought that (Y/n) was a hero… they said so…”

“This… no, it can’t be..”

“Oh… I see… they didn’t like us after all…”

You could basically hear all of them, even though everyone was silent. The facade you’ve been putting up for the past thousand or more lives was now cracking up, big time.

All your memories you had with these people flooded your mind, overwhelming you.

The time that you all studied for a test. That one time you had a big sleepover. That time you hung out until the morning on a Monday. The time that they gave you their lunch when you didn’t have one.

Was it all fake? We’re you pretending all the time? We’re you truly a terrible traitor deep down?

You felt like screaming, like crying, but mostly like going back in time. But you didn’t do either of those things. Instead, you just stared at your friends, your past and the world that was now on fire.

You did however, give them a weak smile. A nearly invisible one. The one you wore back when you didn’t have this second quirk. And the one you wore around the people you love the most.

You opened your mouth, speaking to your friends one last time, before walking off with the rest of the league, cursed to be with the opposite side than you were rooting for, for all eternity.

“Thank you.”

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 13 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 13

After his mother made sure he ate something light, Danny escaped to his bedroom and set up a video chat with his friends. Once all of them were certain they would not be overheard, Danny told them about the strange green wall that saved him from whatever tried to attack him.

His friends were convinced it had something to do with his ghostly side. However, he wasn't as certain. Up until that point, the only ghostly abilities he'd seen were the random bouts of invisibility and intangibility of his arms and legs. Not only that, he hadn't been able to switch to his ghostly appearance since he returned from the other side.

Although it took a while, he eventually opened up to his friends about the little information he had about his abilities. Instead of being freaked out, they seemed fascinated. After a quick argument, Danny eventually gave in and agreed to let them attempt to help him figure things out.

It wasn't exactly the result he wanted. While he knew he was alive, he couldn't ignore the fact part of him wasn't exactly human. Up until he was released from the hospital, he thought he might be able to ignore what happened to him. However, between the events at school and whatever the thing that tried attacking him was, he knew it was impossible. Clockwork and Frostbite even warned him he might be in danger in the world of the living.

Speaking of Clockwork, how would the ghost contact him? Or better yet, how would Danny contact him? Did the ghost know what that thing was? Or how it could be stopped? If anything, that was the sort of very important information he needed.

Danny sighed and prepared for bed. He hoped everything would start making more sense in the morning.

….

When he finally wandered down to the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, Danny was surprised to find Vlad Masters talking with his parents. His unofficial uncle stood and swept him into a hug once he realized he was there.

"Daniel, I'm so happy to see you're alright." Vlad made a show of being concerned once he released him. "I'm deeply sorry I was unable to visit you when you were hospitalized. Between the police investigation from both my employee's and your class' disappearances and the resulting paperwork, it was impossible to make the trip."

As much as Danny usually didn't mind the visits from Vlad, today, the man sent shivers down his spine. It didn't make any sense. As unnerved as he was, he figured he was just being paranoid and tried to shrug it off. "It's fine. I mean, I know how busy you are. I did get your 'get well' gift though. I can't believe you were able to get the blue prints for that shuttle! It usually takes at least a few years for NASA to release information like that."

"It was no trouble at all, my boy. But, your parents told me something troubling. You were attacked yesterday?"

Danny just shrugged as he grabbed some of the pancakes waiting on the counter. "Yeah, the police are looking for the guy," he eventually answered after he sat down and took a bite.

"Honey, Vlad's here at our request." After raising a questioning eyebrow at his mother, she explained, "Your father and I did some digging on the thing you saw yesterday. On accident, we discovered other similar reports, not just from here, but from other places where there have been a lot of strange deaths. To be blunt, Danny we're not exactly sure what you saw, but we're becoming worried something dangerous has started crossing over into our world."

"So why…?"

His dad startled everyone by pulling Vlad into a side hug. "Your mom contacted Vladdy here to see if he had some contacts for our research, and he decided he wanted to directly get involved. Isn't that great?"

His mom fondly shook her head as Vlad tried to pull himself out of his dad's grasp. "What your father means is that Vlad has offered to both fund and assist with the research this time around," his mother clarified.

"I felt it was prudent I was more directly involved," Vlad explained as he straightened out his suit. "If I understood what your parents told me correctly, you didn't see a person?" With that question, the normal businessman seemed to vanish, and a stranger suddenly appeared in his place as his expression turned predatory.

The expression reminded Danny of Plasmius, and it made the uneasy feeling worse. "Uh… I told my parents everything I saw." He quickly finished his pancakes and ignored the desire to get a second helping. His parents even got the real maple syrup this time. It was so tempting, but he needed to get away from Vlad. Once his plate was rinsed and put in the sink, he headed towards the doorway. "Well, I need to get going. I promised Sam and Tucker I would meet up with them."

"Young man, you're not seriously thinking about going out today after everything that happened?"

He just rolled his eyes at his mother. "I think as long as I stick to the main streets and don't try to dodge behind buildings again I'll be fine." Before he left the room, he glanced at Vlad. "Hey… this might sound weird, but… uh, has anyone else gone missing from your company?"

The man's eyes narrowed at the question. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Daniel."

"It's nothing. Forget I said anything." Not wanting to be questioned any further, Danny ran out of the room to get ready. After getting ready in record time, he sped from the house and towards the park.

….

Well, he could have done a better job at forming an escape plan. Sure, he managed to get to the park without being attacked or having his parents decide they needed to follow him, but he wasn't supposed to meet up with Sam and Tucker for another hour. Groaning, he plopped himself down on an empty bench and reviewed his options.

He could continue to sit where he was, but being a teenager, boredom would quickly get to him. Checking his phone, he realized he probably didn't have enough of a charge to keep him entertained while he waited. Now that he thought about it, ever since his misadventure to the land of the dead, it had trouble keeping a charge. Something about that place probably fried it.

Not wanting to risk it going dead, he thought about his other options. Fast food was out. Tucker would kill him if he took a trip to the Nasty Burger without him. He could walk around town, but after what happened yesterday, he really didn't want to risk running into whatever that thing was again. Actually, what was he doing in the middle of the park, alone, when that thing was running around town?

Paranoid, he glanced around. Other than a couple nearby trees, his current position put him in a rather open area of the park. No one or thing would easily be able to sneak up on him, and now that he thought about it, the weird feeling he got before it appeared wasn't present. While he wasn't completely relieved, it was better than nothing, and it still left him with nothing to do.

He checked the area again. The park was strangely empty for the time of day, though with all the strange things happening around town, he figured people were just staying away. So, maybe he could try to work on control his abilities a little. Having some sort of handle on the invisibility and intangibility would be nice.

After setting an alarm on his phone so he wouldn't forget to meet up with his friends, he started focusing on his hands. When his abilities activated, it often felt as if the affected limb went numb, so he focused on that. However, attempting to will his own arm to go numb was just as hard as it seemed, and he quickly grew frustrated. Though, he did notice a cold child run up his spine.

"How quaint. Didn't your allies give you any information when they helped you escape?"

Startled at the voice, Danny jump up only to find Plasmius floating behind him. As he backed away, he realized the scenery changed. The purple and green swirls of the sky immediately alerted him to the fact he was back in the land of the dead. How in the world did Plasmius do that?

"It's a nice trick, isn't it? But it's really not that hard. Creatures like us who have ties to this world can easily slip into it. It's only difficult when we try to bring the living with us."

"I'll remember that," Danny replied dryly. "What… what do you want?"

"There are many things that I want," the creature admitted, "but right now, I'm only interested in your progress and possibly to trade some information."

"Well, I'm still living, if that's what you want."

"Yes, but not quite. While I loathe to say I'm not as skilled in being able to detect other ghosts and spirits as some of the others I've encountered, I can still detect the faint thrum of a ghostly core within you. Why don't you change into your more fitting form?"

"More fitting?" Danny repeated faintly. This thing thought him looking like a ghost was more fitting? "Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven't been able to chance since I came home."

"Really? With how much ambient energy is available in your home, I would have thought it would have occurred fairly regularly as you adjusted. No matter. It seems your body is naturally responding to this world."

"Huh?" His attention turned to the flash of light around his midsection. Knowing what that meant, he hugged his stomach as he tried to stop the process. His core was active. He could feel its power trying to surge through him. "Come on. Stop it." He didn't want to give Plasmius what he wanted, but his feeble attempts meant nothing and the power overcame him. As he fell to his knees as his body recovered from the recoil of trying to stop it, he sensed Plasmius float closer to him.

"It's remarkable how human you still look in that form. I would have thought there would have been a more drastic change as your core settled."

"You mean you were expecting me to look something more like you?"

"No, not necessarily like me, but it is unusual to find a ghost who could easily pass as a human without attempting to hide anything."

Standing, Danny glared at the specter. "Are you just here to marvel at how weird I am? Or can I go now?" It was one thing for him to be unsettled by the changes, but he didn't need some creepy ghost, who happened to be partially responsible for what happened to him, commenting on how he was different than other ghosts. Of course he was different! He was still human.

The ghost pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I am getting somewhat sidetracked. Now, Daniel, like I said, I approached you for information and nothing more. Firstly, what do you know of what is stalking this city? You encountered it recently, did you not?"

"How did you…?" A chill ran down Danny's spine as he backed away. Was this thing spying on him?

"I believe I mentioned that I do try to keep taps on you. I still have not given up on wanting you to become my eventual heir after all, but rumors of it and others like it have been circling for a while. Ghosts older than I despise them, but it has been difficult to procure information regarding them."

"You probably know more than I do then," Danny replied. Plasmius did seem like he only wanted to talk, but that didn't mean he could change his mind. If he did decide he wanted to attack, there was little Danny could do to stop him. If he was able to get out of this, he was definitely going to focus on working on his powers just so he could defend himself against Plasmius. "It looked like a deformed person. It… it…" The memory of it holding something red and the sound of dripping blood made his stomach turn. "It took… part of that person. When it left, it turned into an old lady."

Plasmius frowned as he mulled over the information. "Daniel, what exactly did it take?"

The image flashed across his mind again, and his shook his head to try to get rid of it. "Look, I don't know. There was blood down the front of the guy's chest. It was part of his body. I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Hmm… I wonder if that was the intention or an afterthought. I will investigate that. If it was intentional, then the rumors I've heard may in fact be true," the ghost muttered to himself before glancing at Danny again. "Now, I have one final bit of information I need from you. What exactly do you know of my involvement with the companies of Vlad Masters?" His almost friendly attitude turned icy.

"Involvement?" Danny replied nervously. He could feel Plasmius' energy building, and he knew the specter wouldn't hesitate to attack if he wasn't careful enough with his words. "All I know if that you took one of Vlad's employees for experiments." After debating for a moment, he slowly added, "The person who helped me escape said you've done a lot of experiments like that. Wait, are you spying on Vlad so you can get new people for whatever you're doing?"

Nothing he said was technically a lie. However, he was definitely wasn't going to say anything about how Tucker managed to copy some of the ghost's files and discovered he was spying on what seemed like all aspects of Vlad's companies. Yeah, that was going to remain a secret.

Plasmius narrowed his eyes which prompted Danny to back away. "Butter biscuits! I seem to have unintentionally given away too much. I believe our meeting has come to an end, but mark my words, boy, it would do you well to stay out of my business. What I'm doing is to benefit both of us." With that warning, he faded from view.

Danny spun around to attempt to figure out where he went only to find himself back in the park. There didn't seem to be any sign of Plasmius, and he didn't seem to have any of the weird chills he tended to get before something strange happened.

He should be happy he hadn't been injured by the other ghost, but the interaction left him unsettled. How did Plasmius know where he was? Was he stalking him? Actually, seeing as the ghost orchestrated an entire scheme to get to him when his school was on a camping trip that was probably the case. To make matters worse, now that he was something in between a human and a ghost, Plasmius could pull another stunt like that any time he wanted.

Not wanting to stay out in the open any longer, he grabbed his phone and ran. According to the clock, he still had some time before he needed to meet up with his friends, but that was not going to deter him from going to Sam's house. As silly as it was, her parents' anti-paranormal stance almost acted as an unofficial ward. If anything tried creating chaos in that house, he was positive Mrs. Manson would somehow throw it out of the house by sheer force of will.

Once he was out of the park, he took a moment to text Sam to let her know he was on the way. While he knew she wouldn't exactly mind if he showed up early, it was still better to let her know so she could keep her parents at bay. The only tolerated him after all.

When he was done, he noticed something off about his reflection. His hair was still white. Panicked, he checked himself, and sure enough, it seemed as if he was still in his ghost form. He tried to trigger the change, but he had no idea what to do to reverse it. When he was with Frostbite, his body just seemed to do it automatically. Not wanting to say out in the open any longer than he had to, he ran.

As he approached Sam's house, he called her to give her a heads up on his problem. Her response was to have him climb up the rope ladder she had for her regular escapes so he could get to her room without risking her parents seeing him before the problem was fixed.

Ten minutes and one harrowing rope ladder climb later (seriously, that thing was a safety hazard), Danny found himself sitting on Sam's bed while she examined him. Her pokes and prods made him self-conscious to the point where he actually pulled away from her.

"I get it. I look weird, but will you seriously stop?"

She shook her head as she sat down beside him. "In all honesty, you don't look that weird at all. Compared to the last time I saw you like this, you actually look healthy." When he gave her an incredulous look, she grabbed his hands. "What? I'm being serious. Aside from the glow, you look fine. The first time, you had this weird green tinge to your skin which was really creepy."

"Thanks? I think?"

Realizing she was still holding his hands, she let go and stood up. "Ignoring that, my parents are actually still home for once. Let's see if we can get you back to normal, well, your version of it, that is." At his indignant 'hey', she just laughed.

==================================

So, the little jab about real maple syrup... To be honest, I don't care for the stuff, but so many people I know make a clear distinction between normal store bought maple syrup and the "real" stuff (apparently you just have to double check what you grab?). And because I'm thinking about it, Karo isn't fake maple syrup; it's corn syrup.

Did you know it's fun to write Plasmius? His speech is a bit odd as he tends to attempt to sound as educated as possible while still throwing in some causal aspects. I find it that balance fun to write.

[rwbyremnants]

WARNING: Cunnilingus and fingering.

Told you it wouldn't be too much longer! Enjoy you guys!

=Chapter 24

A week went by with very little word from the police. Weiss and her mother and brother had to go down to the station and testify about Jacques Schnee’s behaviour, and that seemed to be enough to convince them that they shouldn’t let him out quite yet. When asked if they would like to see him, Weiss flatly refused, but her mother waffled, unsure if she should. Weiss told her she should wait until she was sure and that did the trick.

Whitley seemed no better for having seen his father. During the car ride home, he had suddenly announced, “Can I be sent to military school?”

“What?” their mother asked in shock. “Military school? Why would you want that?”

“Well, it seems to have made Winter happy. And…” Shrugging, he looked out the window. “I can’t tell which of you is lying. You or Father. So I’d rather just go away and not have to think about it anymore.”

“How dare you,” Weiss snapped. “How dare you think Mother and I would lie about anything like-”

“It’s alright, Weiss,” she sighed wearily as she drove. “In his situation, I can understand; both of his parents are accusing the other of being a terrible person. Honey… do you really want this?”

“Yes, I think I would. Or I think it’s best. I…” His voice faded, and he didn’t seem to have anything else to say.

“Then I’ll look into it for you. But I am sorry you feel this way.”

Very softly, he whispered, “I am, as well.” And no more was discussed.

There was another visit to the Branwen home two days later that went better than the last. Raven stayed out of their way entirely, and Yang was in even better spirits. Weiss took a spot on the bed next to her and even Ruby, who had been less privy to their relationship, said nothing about how much they were cuddling. It was nice, having a space like that outside of Shopkeeper's where they could be themselves.

And Yang was maybe a little too affectionate, if the playful “ewwww” from Ruby when they kissed was any indication. But that was her only protest.

Frequent visits from Kali turned into daily visits. She was busy working at her restaurant, so it still meant a lot of very lonely days for Weiss’s mother, but she tried to drop by as often as possible. Together, they began to piece together a plan of attack for when Jacques was healed up and would be trying to piece his life back together. Though Willow had no idea why they needed to be so thorough, Kali assured her that these were necessary steps to protect their monetary well-being. Weiss stopped being able to follow along with their discussions, so she eventually retired to her own room and focused on homework instead.

Friday evening was the first time Yang's shoulder was healed up enough that she could venture out of the house. Though it meant being chauffeured instead of riding her motorcycle, which was still being repaired anyway, she was glad to hit Shopkeeper's and see all her friends again. They had nothing but kind and encouraging words for her, other than the odd teasing about her being too much of a “daredevil” for her own good. Cinder insinuated that she had only wiped out to get all that attention, and Yang told her to go sit on a fork. The only response from the smirking girl was “Ooohh, kinky.”

Salem expressed further concern about Weiss's situation, and her usefulness to the Dragons. Though Kali had already informed her of their plans, and she was satisfied with them thus far, she told their newest recruit to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity from the man now that he was essentially her enemy. Having to think of her father that way hurt… but it was too accurate to bother arguing with her.

Meanwhile, it seemed as if Blake was content just to see Yang again. Weiss had been a little worried about that, and about whether or not there would be lingering feelings of jealousy. But there weren’t. She still looked a little sad when no one was watching her too closely, but Weiss understood; she was working through it at her own pace. She would just have to be there for her whenever she could.

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

To help make up for such an atypical week, Pyrrha loaned Weiss her car on Saturday night so she and Yang could go to the drive-in. Weiss had learned the rules of the road from her father, but he was such an overbearing terror in the car that she didn’t attempt it very often. After a few rocky stops and starts, and nearly running a red light, Yang laughed and took over, guiding them into a spot near the back of the lot.

“So this is pretty cozy, eh?” Yang whispered as they settled in with their popcorn in Pyrrha's front seat. The movie was just starting, so it was nothing but musical score and credits drifting by.

“Yeah, I'll say.” Weiss didn't want to admit how nervous she was. It was the first time they had been alone since she helped dry her off - and that had been only a fleeting moment. There might have been dozens of other cars parked around theirs, but none of them cared about the two girls. They had their own dates to make it with. “How’s your shoulder?”

“I’ll live.” Her finger tapped the small metal speaker unit hanging on the driver's side window. “This alright? Can you hear?”

Snuggling into her side, Weiss said, “Perfectly well. Besides, I've seen ‘South Pacific’ at least five times.”

The smile that blossomed on the Dragon's face was a bit more reminiscent of the ones she wore when they first began speaking, and promised much. “So… does that mean you don't mind missing the flick?”

“Quiet, you. I'm very interested in sharing this musical masterpiece with my… my girlfriend.” Their shared smile was warm and shy. “Wow. It's nice to be able to say that.”

“Yeah. And… well, we’ve been kind of funny about saying it, but it’s definitely not ‘cause I don’t want to! Just weird, hanging around my sis all the time, and with Kali-”

Weiss cut her off with a gentle press of lips on lips, her hand sliding up her neck to cup her cheek. The response was immediate and enthusiastic; Yang pushed her back against the passenger door, humming into the union of their mouths. Even though she had initiated this, the rich girl felt herself completely powerless to resist, melting beneath her brute as their bodies writhed and the windows fogged.

The kiss was broken with a quiet little “ow!” from Yang. Weiss pulled back, concern in her eyes.

“Just my arm,” she breathed, eyes serious yet dazed with the power of their affection. “I'm fine.”

“Come on, you said it was okay. Here.” She began to knead it gently. “Is that better?”

Violet eyes fluttered closed. “Mmmm… yeah. Thanks, babe.”

“Of course. I take care of what's mine.” They both shared a knowing smile. “We're not watching the movie.”

“What movie?”

“Brute,” she purred in a voice that was anything but accusatory, petting her hand up and down the lapel of Yang's jacket. “Uncultured Philistine.”

The last one made Yang's eyebrows shoot up a little higher. “Oh yeah? Think I can't enjoy this dumb movie of yours, Princess?”

The teasing had apparently backfired very slightly. Weiss was definitely more interested in Yang than in the movie, but Yang was now turning around to face it properly, pulling the popcorn bucket back into her lap from where it had been resting on the dashboard. Slapping her shoulder only made Yang shush her so she could pay attention.

“You're really going to watch it now, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Hmm… good.” Even though the prospect of spending a few minutes fogging up the windows appealed to her greatly, Weiss decided this was just as good and snuggled back into her side, reaching into the bucket.

That went on for a good long while. Weiss hummed along with the songs and relished the closeness. Much to her own surprise, Yang seemed to be enjoying the film, as well, even laughing at some of the key comedic points. All the while, her arm remained around Weiss's shoulders, and she began to realize that she could stay there forever and not feel like she was missing out on anything else in the world. She hadn't been expecting to find someone to be that close to for many years yet - especially not a woman that she had barely known for a few scant weeks! Life had really thrown her for a loop.

“Your lips are salty,” Yang giggled after a brief kiss.

“Hey! Yours are, too!” Settling in again, she began to pet up and down Yang's ribs beneath her jacket. It prompted a quiet hum of appreciation. “Like that?”

“Yeah. You feel really good right there. And here,” she added, squeezing her shoulders to illustrate what she meant.

“I would certainly hope so.”

They lapsed into silence for a few more minutes. Then Yang whispered, “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Uh… I haven't really said it yet, but thanks. For everything: saving me, and dealing with Raven, and… Ruby… you've just been really great, and I don't deserve-”

“Shhh,” she shushed her, petting a little more vigorously. “Thank you for saying so, but I don’t need you to. It’s… I think Kali said it best when she said you and the other Dragons are my family now. And family does things like that for each other. It was a pleasure. Really.”

Yang suddenly set the popcorn aside again, turning so that she was kneeling in the floorboard and gazing up into Weiss’s eyes. Her hands clasped Weiss’s tightly, causing the shorter teenager to blink back at her. She was expecting something very risque… and suddenly got something even better.

“I’m really in love, Weiss. I never thought… I mean, uh… ain’t so good with words,” she admitted with a lopsided smile, and Weiss spared a small one of her own. “You were my dream girl. Then we started talking, and I was worried you weren’t because you hated me. Plus, you were kind of a brat.”

“Hey!”

“Come on, it’s true,” she laughed, and Weiss laughed with her. “But just in these last few weeks, I think we both grew up a little. Got to know each other, and more about the world. And now…”

As Yang raised their hands up between them, lacing their fingers together, Weiss finished for them, “Now we fit together perfectly. Like links in a chain.”

“Yeah. Is that crazy? Am I just real gone?”

“We’re both real gone, Yang,” she whispered softly, heart pounding in her ears and stomach fluttering in time with its beats. “I want to be your wife. Or you to be mine, or… oh, I’m being so silly; we can’t be that to each other. But I don’t care!”

“Me, neither. I just want you in my life forever. And that’s…”

Words had run out. Yang leaned up to kiss her again, and Weiss threw herself into the contact even more than the last time. Nellie and Emile were singing to each other so earnestly in the background that she couldn’t imagine a better place and time to live. She wanted to always be there, with Yang, in that car.

The transition was so natural she almost could have missed it. One moment, their lips were engaged - many moments, actually. Then she felt lips moving down her chest, to her stomach through the soft cotton dress she wore. Her own hands lifted to glide through Yang’s hair, holding on for dear life as she wondered what was about to happen to her. There weren’t a great deal of possibilities. Either Yang had dropped something, or…

“Oh.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Yang paused to look up at her. “Tell me to stop.”

“I…”

“Tell me to keep going.” Her throat clearly worked to swallow before she kissed her thigh through the layers of fabric. “Tell me… whatever it is you want.”

It took a lot of willpower for Weiss to find the words she needed. “Keep g-going. I…” She had to look away to admit it. “I need you.”

Even as Yang kissed down her thigh to her knee, still sheltered by her dress, she could feel the stirrings from before. Why did the bruiser have such a strong effect on her entire system? It boggled her mind. Almost as if she were still an inch away, memories of Yang’s fragrant sex filled her mind - the taste of her, the sounds of her writhing beneath her at every touch. And she was about to have that paid back in full. Was she ready?

No. But she was through waiting to be ready.

When Yang began to lift her skirt and petticoats, a little squeak of alarm blasted out of her throat anyway. Yang paused to whisper, “Too much?”

“No, Yang. I want more. I’m just…” Her shoulder shrugged helplessly. What she was made no difference.

Kisses moved up the insides of her thighs, over her stockings until they reached the tops where they ended in lace. The first kiss on skin was so close to her center that she had to suppress the powerful urge to clamp both legs around Yang’s head to hold her still; instead, she merely twitched. A single light peck against the crux of her entire being was enough to make her fall back against the seat, eyes clamped shut in mingling fear and anticipation.

“You’re ready,” Yang breathed softly, as gentle as a lamb where she was normally ravenous as a wolf – even if the hunger was burning just under the surface. “At least… you smell ready.”

“Sh-shut up,” she breathed very softly. “Is it bad?”

“No, no. It’s incredible.” Yang nuzzled her inner thigh as her fingers drifted upward. “Can I…?”

There were certainly no words of protest. Weiss pressed a hand into her eyes as she felt cool air caress her wetness, followed by the warmth of breath. This was insane. Could she really let a woman do this to her? Let anyone? She was starting to believe her nerves had a lot more to do with reservations about allowing anyone to get this close to her, rather than the gender of the person in question. And for her to finally allow Yang to return this favour…

Yang must have felt her reticence, because she appeared above the skirts again, face flushed and eyes dark with desire. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“Yang…” Swallowing hard, Weiss looked to one side so she wouldn’t see the single tear that escaped her guard. “Thank you, my darling.”

Lips on her waiting petals caused her to lose all sense of time, direction… the world became as fogged as their windows. The heels of her baby blue pumps gouged into Yang’s back through her jacket but if she felt pain from it, she made a good job of ignoring it in favour of pleasing Weiss. The practiced ease of Yang’s tongue made Weiss’s clumsy attempts pale in comparison. Before she had any chance to even attempt to think of something to ask, a praise to lavish on her for such skill, Yang was finding new ways to caress her most sensitive skin and wring even more pleasure from the moment. All she could manage was to pant, and moan, and suppress the occasional shriek of pure joy that tried to burst from within her. Barely.

Minutes passed and she felt her end building - it could be nothing else. Her hand pressed into Yang’s crown to hold her face precisely where it was as her hips began to rock forward to meet each caress of the eager tongue.

“Yes! Yang! I… yes!!!”

The only response was a low “Mmmhhh” of pure enjoyment. That was the one thing that could have added to her own pleasure: knowing Yang did not consider this a burden, a chore that need be done. They were both swirling through the same eddies and pools of ecstasy.

Which was how Weiss crashed headlong into her first orgasm.

Yang continued her gentle licks for a minute more as Weiss writhed and moaned, thighs trying to trap her there forever, heels no doubt bruising her back. Then the licks turned to kisses, and then the kisses moved down her creamy thigh flesh until reaching the top of her stocking. Her head slowly raised up from the horizon of the skirts to smile at her.

“Woooooow,” Weiss breathed weakly, eyes wide and face hotter than she could ever remember.

“Yeah,” the brute chuckled, though her grin was full of adoration rather than amusement. “Wow.”

After barely a moment's hesitation, Yang quickly kissed the inside of her thigh before tugging her underwear back into place. Trying not to be awkward, she climbed back into her seat - accidentally kicking open the glove box and making both of them burst into giggles. Then they were simply sitting side by side and sharing one of the warmest smiles they had ever worn in their lifetimes.

“So that's why you kept trying to get my dress off all these weeks.”

“Not the only reason, Schnee. But… a big one. Wanted to make you feel good so you'd date me. Never really considered it would last, since you're too good for some meathead like me. Gotta admit, though… this is better.”

Snuggling into her side, letting her entire body relax, she whispered, “This is?”

“Absotively, posilutely.”

“Mmm. But you're not a meathead. You're sweet, and considerate, and strong in the best of ways!”

Out the side of her mouth, she told Weiss, “Not so loud. I got a reputation to keep!” They shared another giggle as Yang petted up and down her arm. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too. More than I-”

Their moment was interrupted by a knock at the door. Rolling her eyes, Yang turned and shouted, “WHAT?”

“Knock it off in there, you kids! This ain't no motel!”

They couldn't even see the perpetrator of this grave injustice through the fog on the window; just a vague silhouette. Yang decided the most effective way of communicating her displeasure with the interruption was by pressing her middle finger against the glass.

“Yang, that's crude!” Weiss hissed, though she had to try hard to suppress a small giggle.

“You wanna be run out of this drive-in? Huh?”

Realizing that the guy wasn't going to leave them in peace, Yang rolled down her window and glared at him. He was either a teenager or had only been older than that for a year or two, with scraggly brown hair and a missing tooth in the front. His irritated expression gave way to one of shock when he saw the driver was a woman, and it only deepened when he saw the passenger was, as well.

“Listen, chum. We're trying to have a nice time watching this talkie. You're kinda making that less easy. So why don't you make like a tree and leave?”

The man let out a weak little laugh. “H-hey, my mistake! I thought you were a fella, and- well, the windows are all steamed up…”

“That's our business. Thanks for checking in, though. Now take off.”

Now he looked a little creeped out. However, he did nod and moved off, shaking his head as if to rid it of unwanted thoughts.

“Very well-handled,” Weiss whispered as Yang rolled the window back up.

“Thanks, doll. I take care of business.”

“You've taken care of enough business for a week as far as I'm concerned.” They shared a conspiratorial grin. “But now I'm sad.”

“Why?”

“Well, he's paying too much attention for me to be able to go down on you now.”

Yang's blush was honestly so cute and unexpected that Weiss thoroughly enjoyed peppering her face with dozens of little kisses. But she didn't dare get too vigorous lest they attract any further pests.

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

By the end of the movie, both girls were in high spirits. On top of the world. They decided to revisit the old depot rather than hope for a few stolen moments in anyone's house.

Weiss practically ripped Yang's clothes from her body in her haste to re-engage their bodies; Yang took more care, gently peeling off her beautiful dress and laying it aside. Wandering hands explored curves, lips met over and over, skin shifted against skin. Instead of her mouth, Weiss attempted to use her hand to bring Yang pleasure - and if the reactions we any indication, she was successful. This was crazy; Weiss couldn't believe she was in an abandoned building with a gang member, a woman, naked and unafraid. Their mouths rarely left each other until Yang needed hers to gasp for breath as she reached her finish.

And they didn't stop there. Instead of weeks later, Weiss found out immediately the kind of thrill she had provided Yang when one of the brute’s strong hands snaked down between their bodies. Going from never being quite sure she was aroused to two orgasms in one day was almost too much… but it was a surplus of pleasure she was more than happy to weather.

“Ohhhh,” Yang groaned as she rolled off, panting and gazing up at the half-crumbled ceiling.

“What did… we just do?” They both laughed. “You don't actually… have to explain, I'm not that naive. But WOW!”

Still laughing, Yang petted up and down her bare stomach, making it quiver at the touch of a foreign hand upon it. “You said that already.”

“I mean, I know this is old hat for you, but I'm… honestly surprised. I thought sex was something women just did to keep men happy, and make babies! So all of this with you is really opening my eyes.”

“Hey, watch how you say it's ‘old hat’ for me. I'm not that cheap a floozy!”

Weiss looked horrified. “Oh… oh no, I'm not- that wasn't how I meant that to sound!”

“Don't worry about it,” she laughed, kissing her temple. “I mean, you're right; I've been around the block a time or two. But it's never been so… with you, everything's different. I'd be alright if it was just you and me for the rest of our lives.”

“Really?” When Yang nodded, she wrapped her body even tighter around the Dragon, feeding off her warmth, her strength. “Oh, I love you so much!”

Burying her face in Weiss's neck, the bruiser whispered urgently, “Love you, too, baby. Chee… you really do like me. Really?”

For a few seconds, Weiss didn't reply. Then she drew back to gaze down into the stunned, overwhelmed features of her lover. She felt like singing! Therefore, she did - and didn't trouble to keep her voice down.

“Younger than springtime am I! Gayer than laughter am I!” Even before she continued, she could see Yang blinking in surprise. “Angel and lover, heaven and earth, am IIIIIIIII wiiiiiith yoooooouuuu!!!”

Then she felt a little silly - especially when Yang started clapping. Why had she allowed herself to be such a square? Just when she was about to shout at her for poking fun, she saw the look of pure wonder in the blonde’s features.

“DANG! How did I not know you can sing?! I mean… I've heard you hum a little, but you can really sing, like rings around Peggy Lee! You're phenomenal!”

“Oh, stop,” she muttered with a bashful smile.

“Are you out of your tree? I wanna hear more!” She sat up and slid her hands around Weiss's trim waist, eyes sparkling as she gazed up at her. “Baby, you're gonna be a star! Like… like Judy Garland or something!”

Now the smile was even more bashful, and the color that had begun to fade from her cheeks rushed back in with a vengeance. “What? Please, I'm not that good!”

“Better! You could beat the ruby slippers off her!” When Weiss rolled her eyes, she insisted, “Honest, Weiss, I'm… I'm so lucky. I knew that already, but holy hell…”

“Well… my parents wanted me to go to Vassar first, but… I guess I could audition for some musicals while I'm there… and they’ve always insisted I keep up my vocal training.”

“Who cares what they want? This is about what you want.”

The idea of that surprised her a little. What she wanted? What did she want? A successful career, sure. But becoming an international singing sensation was a tempting thought. No one had ever really cared what she wanted out of her future before. However, she only had one immediate answer.

“You.”

After a quiet second, Yang smiled shyly. It still stunned Weiss to see the brute that way. “Come on. Even if you do like gals now, I'm… just some-”

“No, stop that,” she cut her off. “Whatever you're going to say, I don't care. I love who you are, and I've never felt this close to another human being before. And you are… the most beautiful woman the whole wide world.”

“Stop trying to pass the buck. That's you, not me.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “So pretty, and sweet, and comely, and smart… a-and you're the b-best thing that ever happened to me!”

Weiss wasn't used to seeing the tough woman fall apart. What was she supposed to do?! All she could think of right away was to fold the overcome Yang into her arms, petting up and down her nude back and rocking very gently. If anyone deserved to feel like they could let their armor fall away, it was this titan of a woman. She would be her armor when necessary.

[gotatext]

by this point im p sure u all know the drill.... i’m nora, 23, she/her, gmt and tonight matthew im going to be greta o’driscoll, a terrible person but a hot one which frankly makes it almost ok. here is her pinterest..... this intro is literally just copied n pasted frm the last time i played her so soz if u’ve read it like 10+ times.... 

「 diana silvers. cis-female. 」have you seen greta o’driscoll around yet? i hear she decided to be in POTENTAS for their SOPHOMORE year as a CRIMINAL PSYCHOLOGY major. the 20 year old SHEPHERD is known to be tenacious, magnetic, capricious and evasive. ➨ the muse is written by nora, she/her, gmt.

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

was always a really sporty bitch. it started with a junior athletics squad, which turned into athletics and cheer, which then became athletics, cheer and hockey until she basically was doing a different activity every night. she came to see her body as a tool that she could make work for her if she trained it up and this attitude’s always kind of stayed with her that as long as her body is strong she is capable of anything. runs every day. 

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

left school at 18 n went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was working at a strip club. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time.

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate.

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea… pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming….. 

she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch. maybe it’s maybelline, maybe its coke.

massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps.  i hate her 

isn’t a foward-planner, however. greta prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manners so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning. 

not afraid to go after what she wants !! ambitious academically and romantically thirsty !! she loves the adrenaline of the chase. when someone’s easy to get, she becomes bored. very bisexual and very proud of it. feminist as fuck nd part of a queer representation in the arts group which holds fortnightly meetings to discuss lgbt representation in film, literature, art etc.

old soul in a young person’s body. all the shit that has gone on has kind of aged her. she’s quite cynical about everything now. always smoking smoking smoking. very edie sedgwick in that way.  little girls skirts bought for next-to-nothing at the market because she’s skinny enough to get away with it, barely long enough to cover your bum, and then the ugliest baggy sweater you’ve ever seen thrown over it.

likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramphone because “The Sound quality is Better” kfdsjj.

super into pop art and andy warhol. puts female friendships above everything but at the same time, would fuck her best friends man

her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk.

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

wanted plots

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sports rivalries ! sporting friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!! 

since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships

 girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

and I want like, fellow criminology students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? 

she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. 

ppl she did a few modules with ie. art history, bio-med, film studies, before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with

 ppl who she runs track with. 

someone she’s trying to make a zine with. 

here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

[introvertguide]

Apocalypse Now (1979); AFI #30

The next movie on the AFI list that we watched was the famous Vietnam Era war film, Apocalypse Now (1979). Even though the movie only received lukewarm reviews on release and was a modest success, the movie is now considered a classic being ranked highly on the AFI film registry (#28 and #30 a decade later), the Sight and Sound Poll (#12), and #6 on a director’s poll of the greatest films of all time. There was some initial recognition as the movie was nominated for 8 Academy Awards and took home 2 for Best Cinematography and Best Sound and both were well deserved. There was actually quite a bit to the making (and almost not making) of this film that I would like to discuss, but first standard brief summary:

SPOILERS!!! You all should know by now but I don’t want hate mail for neglecting to mention it.

The story is really about two people at its core: a Special Ops Officer named Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brando) goes crazy when entrenched in Vietnam and starts killing civilians and anyone who doesn’t agree with him. To stop Kurtz, a specialized troop named Captain Willard (Martin Sheen) is sent down a river through Vietnam and into Cambodia to kill the rogue Kurtz with “extreme prejudice.”

The movie begins when Captain Willard is recruited and then escorted to the mouth of a river that will take him to Kurtz. His escort is the air cavalry, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore (Robert Duvall), who fly into a beach possessed by Viet Cong. Kilgore picks this point of entry because he is a surfing fan and wants that specific beach so he can have an opportunity to catch some waves. It does not go well and he calls in a napalm strike on the tree line of the beach. This is when Kilgore says his famous phrase, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”

Willard takes a small river patrol boat to go up that river with a small group. The boat members are Mr. Clean (Laurence Fishburne), Lance (Sam Bottoms), Chef (Frederic Forrest), and Chief (Albert Hall). The boat goes down the river and runs into increasingly strange situations. There is a USO show, a standard boat search that goes very wrong, and a bridge outpost that is build every day and blown up every night. 

Not everyone on the boat survives, but the remaining members make it to the end of the river to be met by a group of jungle natives and soldiers that all worship Kurtz like a god. There are dead bodies (and body parts) everywhere to show the madness of Kurtz and his soldiers. Willard realizes that he respects Kurtz but will have to kill him. 

Willard is taken by the group and held prisoner, but Kurtz likes him and allows him to roam around. After an undetermined about of time, Willard uses the cover of a ritual bull slaughter to assassinate Kurtz with a machete. Willard then goes back to his boat with the one surviving crewman and leaves. The end. 

This seems like a really short summary for a war epic that lasts for 170 minutes in the short version and over 200 in the extended versions, but very little actually happens in the film. It is a whole lot of voice over, 80s keyboard ambience music, and shots of a boat going down a river. It is supposed to be a film about the decent into madness as Willard gets further from the militarized Kilgore and closer to the vigilante Kurtz. It is hard to really show and not tell emotions of gradual loss of sanity and so there is a lot (I mean a whole lot) of 3rd person narrative. 

I will admit that I am much more of a fan of the story behind the film because almost everything went wrong. The movie was originally set to be directed by George Lucas and have the lead played by Steve McQueen. This did not work out because McQueen did not want to go to the jungle for 4 months. Neither did Jack Nicholson, Robert Redford, Clint Eastwood, or Al Pacino. Coppola took over the job of director and sank some of his own money into the project to get it going since Lucas was busy with Star Wars when the film had accumulated some budget and Harvey Keitel was chosen as the lead. Coppola did not like the character that Keitel tried to give the role of Willard so he was replace with Martin Sheen. It felt like things were good at this point but it really went downhill from there.

The movie had not been completely written and was based on Joseph Conrad’s novella Heart of Darkness (which really doesn’t have an end) and it becomes evident as the movie goes on. The initial attack on the beach that is lead by the helicopters of Kilgore is a scenic wonder and one of the most cinematic things I have seen. The war horrors that are portrayed are brutal and disassociation that Kilgore has from what he is doing and what is going on around him is spectacular. Duvall really earned his nomination for Best Supporting Actor because he steals every scene that he is in. 

The movie was shot in the Philippines and there were many problems with safety for the crew since there was civil unrest and martial law declared in the area that filming was taking place. It was very dangerous and the president of the country at the time did not protect the members of the project like was promised. It continued to get worse because the jungle is very dangerous and the number of military/police in the filming escort was few to none. 

The heat and general environment is very harsh and people who have not grown accustomed to it suffer greatly. All of the crew had constant illnesses and injuries general anxiety. Charlie Sheen had a heart attack and his brother was shipped in to do some of the distance and dark shots. The crew got super antsy and started to do a lot of drinking and drug use with Dennis Hopper in the lead, even getting the teenaged Lawrence Fishburne addicted to heroine. Through all of this, the shoot was way over budget due to weather delays, injuries, and the fact that the script of the movie had not been finished.

To top off everything off, Marlon Brando finally showed up and he was 90 lbs overweight, drunk, and took an immediate hatred towards everybody. He still had a chip on his shoulder about the pay for The Godfather and was there to screw things up for Coppola. The director was reported to be having almost daily anxiety attacks towards the end of the shoot. The toll became apparent since the direct lost almost 100 lbs. during the shoot from stress and general sickness. 

Everything was finally scrapped together and it became apparent that the whole thing was a fiasco. People almost died. The planned out five month shoot ended up taking almost fifteen months. The script was being written while the shoot was occurred. The weather and jungle had done a lot of damage to the tape and the lack of environmental control meant that there was a lot of voice over work. Coppola went bankrupt investing his own money into the project and a lot of it went to a highly overpaid and generally scheming Marlon Brando for a truly terrible performance.

A total of over 200 hours of film was edited down to a film that lasted around 160 minutes and it took 3 years to do. I have been disappointed by the film every time that I have watched it because it is slow and I really hate the sci-fi music and constant voice overs. I love the characters at the beginning and I dislike the new people more at more as the movie progresses. I know that it is supposed to get more and more crazy and unrealistic as the boat progresses down the river, but to me it is like watching somebody that you like get drunk over an evening and turn into an annoying spectacle. 

I want to note that this movie seems to be most favored by directors and others who are in the film business. People who have been on set realize how difficult it was to do the project and that the movie is as any good is phenomenal. Despite the lack of a real ending, the movie does have a definite plot and it follows the narrative almost like the filming was a research project and all of the data was combed to find a story. The film is too long and kind of boring for me, but I can recognize that there was some aspects of genius in the making. In my opinion, none of those aspects came from Marlon Brando.

This series is supposed to be objective so I will deal with the normal questions from my opinion and from a film standpoint. Should this film be on AFI list? I would so definitely from a film standpoint because it is a lesson about how a professional film can be made despite everything going wrong and it is a directorial and editing achievement like no other movie I know. The production wanted a realistic descent into madness in a war time situation and that is exactly what is on the tape. I personally don’t find it as interesting because of the lack of real character development outside of Willard and Kurtz, but I am just one person with my personal tastes and I recognize the accomplishment. Would I recommend it? I think it is good to see and there are a lot of things to learn from the filming. It is well liked generally speaking so I would not dissuade somebody who wanted to watch. I would not actively search this out. It is very long and is extremely boring and weird (not interesting weird) for a lot of the movie and Brando, Hopper, and Bottoms all play parts that just annoy me.  I would watch the film as far as Kilgore is involved (first 45 minutes) and then I would stop it there. 

Side note: I would highly recommend Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’ s Apocalypse (1991), which is a documentary directed by Eleanor Coppola and shows the struggle throughout the making of Apocalypse Now. Really gives a an idea of how stressful and dangerous the whole situation and it also shows what a real jerk Marlon Brando was being during the shoot. 

[kamino-ink]

Behind The Mask | Lee Felix

✧ Genre: Spiderman!au, fluff, angst

✧ Summary: You’ve started to notice how your friend has begun to show up to class absolutely exhausted, always falling asleep - he claims it’s just his schoolwork and his internship, but what you don’t know is that his so-called “internship” is actually his duty to serve the people of Queens as Spiderman.

✧ Word Count: 3.2k

✧ Check out my masterlist!

                                         ✧

 “So, class, as you can clearly see on the board, there are about four key reasons why water is so vitally important to us, as human beings, and the planet itself-”

 “Do you think this is how he dirty talks to his husband in bed?” Jisung whispered to you across the lab table, leaning dangerously close to a stray beaker on the edge of the desk.

 “Dude, I didn't need that image in my mind. Thanks a lot.” You groan sarcastically to the amused boy, discretely reaching over to slide the beaker closer to the middle of the table so the clumsy kid would (hopefully) not somehow manage to break it.

 Jisung sticks his tongue out at you before turning his attention to a very dazed looking blonde beside you. “Come on, it was funny - right, Lix…? Felix? Hellooo?”

 You tilt your head slightly in curiosity as to why the boy next to you wasn’t answering his other friend, your gaze drifting over to his slumped over form. He was just barely holding his head up with his chin resting on the palms of his hands, though his legs drooped down to the floor, the bottoms of his shoes swaying above the ground. His black turtleneck was covered up by the plaid shirt draped over it’s material, though spots of the coal colored cloth was made visible by the odd tears in the overlapping shirt.

 Lately, you’ve begun to notice something... off, about your close friend. He was mostly quiet, unless he was with you or Jisung, choosing to crack stupid jokes around the two of you instead of trying to amuse a larger crowd. That hadn’t changed, really, but Felix was starting to make weird excuses to not hang out with either of you after school some days - this didn’t happen every single day, of course. Though, whenever you saw him again either at school or outside of it, the teenage boy would be covered in spots of dark bruises or little cuts protected from the outside air by bandages (usually Star Wars or Hello Kitty ones, curtesy of his aunt.)

 Needless to say, you were starting to wonder if maybe Felix had somehow managed to have a run in with a bad crowd - perhaps he had been influenced by them, hence the cuts and bruises.

 “Yo Felix, wake up,” you grunt, noticing how your teacher had paused for a split second in his lecture to send a heated glare to the dozing boy, “what’s up with you? This is the third time you’ve nearly fallen asleep in class just today. It’s not even eleven.”

The blonde slowly adjusted his position on the stool, now choosing to let out a whine as he let his tired body lead him to lean on your shoulder for support - mostly for his head. “s’ the Stark Internship, Y/N, I already told you guys like a miiiilion times.”

 “I am going to personally beat Tony fucking Stark up if he keeps making you work so hard. Does the man have his head so far up his ass that he can’t see how exhausted you are?”

 “Look, I swear he isn’t overworking me. I’ll be on a break soon, promise.”

 “Pinky promise?”

 He lets out a soft sigh, begrudgingly bringing up one of his hands from his lap to link his pinky finger with your own.

 “Pinky promise.”

 “Fuck me!” Felix screamed into his pillow, completely ignoring a smirking, amused Jisung sat at his own desk just a mere few feet away.

 “Eh, I think I’ll pass,” the cheeky teen snickers, dodging a pillow that the younger had thrown violently at him from his spot on the bottom bunk, “you kind of did this to yourself, Lix. You pinky promised Y/N that you wouldn’t let Stark overwork you-”

 “But it isn’t Mr. Stark telling me to do all these jobs, Jisung! I’m the one who keeps putting myself in these shitty situations.” The blonde shot back almost too quickly in his hero’s defense, throwing his legs over the edge of his bed so he could properly sit up and face his friend.

 An entire week had since passed the day in chemistry class where you had made Felix pinky promise to take a real break from his “internship.” What you obviously didn’t know was that Tony Stark had little to no time to direct Felix’s superhero antics each and every day or night; it was all him, for the most part. In fact, you weren’t even aware of Felix’s superhero alter ego - Spiderman. Only Jisung was aware of his otherwise secret identity, not including the amazing scientist himself. Sure, he sort of felt guilty about not telling you of his secret, especially since he knew you would support him through thick and thin, no matter what - the only thing that might change or, well, increase is your babying of him. You already worried enough about his consistent injures, why should he put that burden of knowledge on your head?

 But now, the injures had gotten worse - he had a run in with some ragtag gang of robbers at a convenience store a couple nights ago, and one of the bastards had managed to slash through his suit deep enough to leave a mark on his arm. The following day, he had neglected to wear longer sleeves, which meant that his bandaged wound was open for anyone to see - and boy had you seen it.

 “Felix, what the fuck happened to you?” The burning question had been on the tip of your tongue the entire day at school, only you had decided to wait to confront Felix about it until you both began to walk home.

 “I uh - nothing, I swear - I just got... mugged?” He lied to you through gritted teeth, the following laugh stained with awkwardness.

 “How the fuck were you mugged in broad daylight?”

 “Well, um it was actually like... around eleven, I guess?”

 “What - Lix, why in the world were you out so late? There is no way in hell May would’ve let you out at that time for no reason.” You whirled around on him now in the middle of the otherwise deserted sidewalk, crossing your arms over you chest impatiently.

 “S-Stark Internship? Yeah! I was supposed to get some field work done before the next morning and I forgot the other half of the day, s-so I had to finish it really late.”

 Needless to say, you had quickly snapped in a blind, chilling rage, badmouthing the multi-millionaire in front of his nervous intern, who first came to you as your best friend. You brought up the fact that Felix had promised to take a break from the exhausting internship, to which the already perplexed, panicked teenager had then snapped at you of all people, saying that this internship was basically his duty - his life. Since then, you had been silent towards the boy all week, refusing to speak to him out of pure agitation, worry, and hurt.

 “Listen, I know that this entire ‘I’m a superhero’ thing is really, really important to you. But you have to take a step back and look at the bigger picture sometimes; clearly you’re working too much, and between school and your spidey-shit, I’m honestly surprised you haven’t collapsed yet.” The brunette admitted bluntly. “This isn’t healthy like, at all. I doubt Stark would appreciate you getting hurt so often just because you feel obligated to make him proud.”

 Before Felix could even get a word of retaliation out, he heard his phone’s ringtone faintly going off somewhere on his mess of a bed. He was about to just ignore whoever was calling at such an ungodly hour, but after a sharp glare from Jisung, he tossed a pillow and curled up blanket from the corner of his bed onto the floor to reach his still ringing phone.

 A picture you had taken of all three of you huddled together during Christmas last year displayed itself on the bright screen, showcasing your bright smiles and red cheeks from the cold day last year. The time read one-thirteen in the morning.

 Why were you calling so late?

 “Hello-”

 “L-Lix?” Your voice comes out as a stuttered whisper, immediately grabbing his rapt attention as he presses a button on his phone and puts you on speaker.

 “Y/N, why are you calling?” He notices Jisung shake his head from his seat, clearly wanting you to keep talking considering the dangerously low, nervous tone you were using.

 “I fell asleep on the train and m-missed my stop a while ago. I started walking home, b-but now these two people are following me. I - I think I’m close to the bank down the street, could you - could you come get me?”

 Felix shoots out of his spot on the comfy bed, tossing his phone onto the comforter while he darts over to his closet in a hurry. “Y-yeah, of course! Just don’t stop walking, okay? And stay on the phone-”

 “-Felix!”

 The line cuts off.

 Jisung throws himself up from his seat by the desk and grabs Felix’s phone from his bed, turning his back to the boy as he starts to slide his suit onto his body in a rush. “Felix, she won’t pick up the phone now!” He says quickly, continuing to spam your contact even when they run out of the apartment - not bothering to see if May was awake or not.

 “She said that she’s by the bank, right? I’ll swing over there and take care of the creeps, you call the police and meet me there.” The superhero tells the following boy his plan, already shooting out a splatter of webs onto the side of the building so he can swing into the air.

 He knew that you wouldn’t hang up on him, especially after calling him for help. It was likely that you had already called the authorities beforehand just in case, but he was too worried that they wouldn’t be able to get to you in time. Felix had already lost too many people that he loved in his life, he wasn’t about to risk losing you too.

 The city of Queens was relatively peaceful during the darkest hours of the night, with a good handful of its otherwise lively residents choosing to stay in the comfort of their homes rather than walking around at that vulnerable time slot. While everyone was more than aware of the superhero presence in their world and, specifically for them in the case of the web-slinging hero, city, the rising danger of criminal activity pushed them to refute from stepping outside when the villains might be lurking about in the shadows. This left the city of Queens to be oddly silent during those particular hours, which is why Felix would so easily hear your desperate screaming even before he had turned the next corner that led to the closed bank.

 “Let go of me, you assholes!” You shout at the perps, your voice coming out strangled in taut pain from how the manicured nails of the woman dig into the skin of your neck, her wrist pressing down harshly onto the front of it to regulate your pained breathing. Fighting back had proven useless, as each time you even tried to swing a leg at the powerful woman she would only further intrude onto your sensitive skin, drawing copious amounts of blood that dribbled down your neck and onto your exposed shoulder, the sleeve of your shirt having been ripped in the initial struggle.

 “No one is coming to save you, angel,” the man taunts you from a few feet away, cracking his neck, “not the cops or whoever you called. They won’t be able to piece your damn body back together - you see, my sister here has an acquired taste for blood, but mostly from pretty little girls like you.”

 “-Hey now, isn’t that cannibalism or something? Cause’ let me tell you, drinking human blood is not normal. Dude, that is so messed up.”

 In sync, all three of you twist your heads to look to wherever the sudden voice had come from in the dead of the night, the nails digging into your skin in the back of your mind the second someone else had suddenly appeared.

 Perched on top of a dimly lit lamppost was a figure you never would have thought you would be able to see in person - or in a sticky situation like the one you were currently tied into.

 It was him - Spiderman.

 The young superhero casually hopped off of the lamppost and onto the sidewalk, the pads of his covered feet soundless even then - it was no wonder that none of you had heard him approaching. “Alright creepy lady, if you could let my fr- erm, my little buddy go it would be greatly appreciated. Kinda makes my job easier.” He hums nonchalantly, his bug-eyes seeming to move with his suit as he analyzes the situation at hand.

 The redhead practically strangling you lets out a growl, sounding eerily similar to a wild dog, and easily releases her grip on your neck. Your back slumps against the brick wall as you take deep breaths, your throat sore from the strong pressure, stinging pain from her long nails ringing in your head.

 “A spider, huh?”

 “Everyone has a gimmick these days.” The brother retorts sourly, twisting his neck to make it ‘pop’ again while his sister steps up beside his shorter form. “Come on, Spiderboy, I would love to dissect your organs and the girl’s!”

 “I mean, you guys totally brought this onto yourselves.” He quips, not even hesitating to sling out four splotches of his webbing onto the creepy criminals, effectively ensnaring them into the sticky substance.

 But it could never be that easy, and Felix probably should've been expecting that much.

 While he had been making his way towards your shaking body still leaning against the wall for support, he had left his back turned to the two perps. Because of his keen focus on making sure you were still, you know, breathing, he hadn't noticed that the woman had tore through the web - not until he felt an all too familiar tingling sensation run up his arms, sending his hairs flying under the tightness of his suit.

 Before he could spin around and protect the both of you, she had snagged her nails - more like claws - underneath the hem of his mask, pulling it completely over his head and slinging it to the ground. The next few seconds were like a blur to you as Spiderman turned on his heels and threw the woman back onto the concrete with a sickening thud, splaying his web all over her from head-to-toe, including her entire skull so she couldn't catch a glimpse of his exposed face.

 But it was too late - you had already seen him.

 “F-Felix?”

 Said teenage boy whips his head around the second you utter his name in a shaky, bewildered tone. He sees the confusion, hurt, and complete awe in your glazed over eyes; you had seen him, you had figured it out without even needing to try.

 Lee Felix was Spiderman.

 “... so what you’re saying is I have even more reason to beat the ever living shit out of Tony Stark?”

 The blonde hisses a word of protest at your monotone grunt, accidently pressing down a bit too hard on the gauze he was using to wrap up your bloodied neck, which made you whimper softly in pain - almost immediately the boy bandaging you up paused in his movements, the tips of his cold fingers grazing your skin midair.

 “You’re fine, Lix. Keep going.” You uttered to the cautious boy quietly, watching his every hesitant move in the reflection painted on his bathroom mirror.

 When he had heard the sound of police sirens and the frantic shouting of Jisung approaching the bank a few minutes ago, Felix had panicked and grabbed his mask, slipping it over his head before he had scooped you up into his arms and swung back to his apartment. Luckily May had been in a deep sleep, so she wasn’t there to pester you two about your shared injuries.

 Jisung was on his way back, of course, since Felix had texted him a quick sentenced summary of what had happened.

 “Are you not - how are you not angry at me right now, Y/N?” Your best friend questioned you, guilt seeping into his soft, broken voice so much that it made your heart squeeze in your chest.

 “I’ll admit, I’m kind of ticked off that Han fucking Jisung knew before me, but I suppose I can forgive you for, you know... saving my life.” You laugh weakly, blinking slowly at the reflection of the boy, still clad in his blue and red suit, carefully finishing off the bandaging on your neck. While it most certainly was not the appropriate time for your pitiful heart to start racing in your chest at his close proximity and soft breaths fanning out onto your chilly skin, you couldn't help but fall into a short-lived daze when the boy grabs onto your thighs and turns you to face him.

 “I - I did want to tell you Y/N, I swear,” he mumbles, “Jisung found out on accident, and uh, obviously Mr. Stark knows because he gave me this suit n’ all. Don’t - don’t be pissed at him for encouraging me to do this, please? I was already sort of doing this stuff before he found me.”

 “But why, Lix?” You huff a bit selfishly, looking down at the floor of his tiny bathroom. “You could seriously get hurt doing this - we’re just kids, we’re supposed to be doing stupid shit like - like falling in love, going to the arcade with friends, and going to dumbass parties just for the free food.”

 “Because I’m the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, Y/N. I want to protect the people of Queens, and outside of it - I wasn't able to save my uncle, but... I have helped so many other people doing what I’m doing. I mean... I was able to save someone else I love, for once, tonight.” He whispers to you softly, lifting your chin with a single finger so you can meet his steady gaze.

 In all your time being friends with him, you don’t recall ever seeing Lee Felix looking so serious.

 “I was actually able to save you, Y/N - god I was so fucking worried when you called because y-you sounded so scared and I wasn’t there to prevent any of it from happening. I’m so thankful that I got to you before something terrible happened.”

 “I-”

 “Please don't interrupt, for once I’m actually talking about how I feel without chickening out like I usually do,” Felix laughs quietly, watching as your lips twitch into a small smile at his truthful words, leaving him to keep speaking, “I like you - love you, so much, Y/N. S-so, if you don’t mind, could I - could I possibly kiss you?”

 You nod with no hesitation, feeling your cheeks heat up when he gulps and starts to lean in, closer and closer until you lips are brushing against each other.

 “... so should I shut the door before May inevitably wakes up and potentially sees you two kissing? It might weird her out since Spiderman is kissing her nephew’s best friend.”

 “Jisung-”

 “I’ll take that as a yes.”

                                         ✧

[softgothsweetheart]

Colors {Polarized}

The dark room was silent. Mark had left Paisley tied up next to his desk. Only until I get back. He promised before he left. She hadn’t been counting the minutes he was gone but she was awake for a while. There were sounds and she knew it was Max, wiggling and struggling to get free. “Is anybody out there?! Please, help!” 

She had half a mind to tell her to shut it. Nobody could come for them, they were too far underground, behind a locked door and in the middle of nowhere. I’m gonna die, we’re gonna die. The only thought that had crossed her mind. Victoria would too. They were too young to even have lived a life; life had just begun for them. Mark wouldn’t be angry if Lee managed to free herself to dose Max again. It’d be a favor.

They’d be meeting their maker soon enough and all the rewinds would be for naught. Victoria groaned and Lee managed to stand up and grab scissors. She tried hard to cut through the rope but didn’t know if it did any justice. There was a squeak and her green eyes flickered over to the trolley closer to Max.

“Don’t do that.” She warned, finally getting her hands free before reaching down and cutting her legs loose too. With finally being free, she walked over and stood behind the couch.

“Paisley, when did you get here?”

“He’s my uncle.” She shrugged, trying to be indifferent. It was different when it was girls she didn’t know from her classes or ones from off the street. But Rachel, Kate, Max, and Victoria… There was a line and he had crossed it. These girls were girls she knew and was friends with.

“You kidnap girls. You do this with him.”

“Do you think I do it willingly? Hurt them willingly?” Max shook her head and focused on the photo; Lee felt her head hurt. “Damn it, Max, really?”

A bright light passed over and she closed her eyes to avoid it. When she blinked, Mark was leaning over Max and taking her photo.

“This angle highlights your purity, see? The slight unconscious model is often the most open and honest. No vanity or posing just pure expression.” He bent down, fixing Max’s leg. The hipster girl looked over Mark’s shoulder and saw Lee’s terrified expression.

“Oh Christ… Look at that perfect face.” The girl tries to move her head and he smacks her, yelling. Paisley wants to scream, to hit him. To make him feel the pain she felt, the pain she feels spreading in her chest whenever a flash goes off. When her mind registered that he was speak about Nathan and Rachel, her hands curled into fists. She couldn’t move outside the highlighted photo boundaries. Mark moved Max’s shoulder, continuing to snap the depraved photos.

“It’s just too bad you’re so goddamn nosy, Max! But, this room… Is under 24/7 surveillance, so all I had to do was have Nathan text you, and you fell right into my hands. You really should have focused on schoolwork, not ‘private detecting’ with your little... friend.” He sneered.

“Chloe…”

“Chloe, right. Yeah, I’m sorry that I killed – that Nathan killed her in self-defense. But she had a troubled history like most Arcadia Bay dropouts.” His little speech continued as he crouched down to take pictures. Fuck cameras. Expensive, cheap. Fuck his fucking Nikon cameras.

Max moved her head; Paisley cursed under her breath and Mark sighed. He pulled the trolley over, standing up, while he filled the syringe with the drugs in the vial, Max kicked the trolley and spilled a vial all over the folder with her recently printed photos. He yells at the girl on the floor. Lee hates the way she thanks the merciless God above that it isn’t her there. Mark moves to the floor once more, the girl struggles against the restraints, shaking her head frantically.

“No…”

“Remember my number one rule. Always…take…the shot.” Mark injects Max who hardly struggles before falling limp.

“Your turn.” His sights are set on Paisley. Oh no. Please no.

When Lee returns to her body, Victoria is awake and panicked. Mark still hasn’t returned.

“Max… Oh, God, where- where are we? Oh, what’s happening?”

“You’ve been drugged and kidnapped like Kate… and me. Do you remember how you got here?”

“No… I don’t know… wait… you warned me. You warned me about Nathan. Then I went to Mark for help, and he was acting so weird… That’s the last thing I remember. And I can’t move my hands! Help me, Max! Please, I’m sorry for everything!”

“Listen carefully, Mark Jefferson kidnapped us. He’s using Nathan as well. Jefferson is very dangerous, so we have to get out of here before he comes back.”

“Max…” Victoria began to cry out. It was ironic considering how much she hated the female’s guts.

“Let us loose, please.” Max begged lightly, and Paisley shook her head.

“You know I can’t. He’s gonna kill us all, Max.”

“You… Paisley – where’s Nate?!” Victoria shouted.

“Nathan is dead. He’s dead, he died. The only way you’ll leave here is dead in tarp.” Her voice wavered, and Max knew she had the young teen.

“Why are you helping him if you know you’re going to die?” Victoria sobbed uncontrollably.

“Tori, don’t you think I tried? I did try. I found out you were the target and I was trying to find a way but then I thought if he got busted we’d be fine. Mark must’ve gotten to Nate after I left him to dress.”

“Then scoot the trolley over.”

“You don’t wanna see your photos. Trust me, you don’t.”

“I do, I need to see. To focus.” Max blurted, and Paisley shrugged, kicking it lightly so it stopped in front of her. They both went through the photo this time, Max was in the chair wide awake and a while ago apparently. Mark stood behind her, angling the camera, looming over her. Lee looked around inside the boundaries, anything she could use to help them was most certainly better than nothing. The pristine room held nothing she could use to subdue her uncle.

“You’re trying too hard, I know you’re scared… You all have the same doe-eyed look when you wake up here. Replaced by fear as you realize what’s about to happen.”

“Mr. Jefferson why are you doing this?” He steps away from the tripod and approaches Max. Maybe if I hit him with the tripod? He’d still beat the shit out of me.

He was talking to Max as if he were a cat, playing with a mouse.

“Yes, you’re a psychopath. And this is your last session.” Mark outright laughed contently.

“Au contraire, Max. I’m so sane that nobody knows what’s happening to you right now.” He turned his head, giving Paisley a look. One that told her she’d best do what he said, or it would end badly for her. So, she sat at Victoria’s feet, biting her tongue and holding her breath. They talked excessively but all she could wonder was why nothing was changing.

Stay brave, even in the face of danger, Paisley.

All she had to do to live.

“I cared more about Nathan more than you did!” Max shouted. Paisley wished she wasn’t a half decent person, or she would’ve smacked the words out of her mouth. That wasn’t true. Mark yelled but he must’ve heard her scoffing in the background.

“Looks like you and Lee here need to exchange some words.”

“Where is Nathan now?” Idle talking, she needed action, but the surveillance cams wouldn’t do her any good. When she looked at the tripod, Mark had caught her. She only realized when feeling cold metal press against her temple. The thought of instantaneous death made her mind feel less clouded by nothingness.

“Dead and buried.”

“Can I have my diary?”

“Sure, but you could’ve done better on these shots, Max! You have more talent than that.” He threw it onto the floor, roughly and it opened to Max in class. The selfie she took with her polaroid camera. The gun left her temple and she leaned into the couch, sinking into it. Paisley asked for his whiskey and he didn’t object, and when she asked for a cigarette, he gave one to her. Saying he’d indulge in her a little since it was her last request. She took a few sips as Mark sat at his desk, playing music in the dark red lighting, another request of hers. A few hits of the cigarette and a headache pulled at her.  Lee had a nose bleed but drank the whiskey in one shot and smoking the cigarette before being pulled through.

Back in the photography lab, Paisley was dizzy, leaning onto the table. She wasn’t intoxicated and for that she was thankful. That meant she could still travel. All she had to do was focus on Max. The class ended sooner than she anticipated but she played with her mother’s necklace as the classroom emptied out save for the four girls. Max pulled out the Blackwell pamphlet and her phone, obviously texting. The teenage girl hugged Kate and Paisley stood, stumbling over to them.

“Are you okay, Pais?” Max asked.

“I don’t know. I think I’m fine?” She nodded, and Max continued to go to Mark and Victoria, giving a surprising speech to the girl. Something along the lines of inspiring people, not scaring them away. Victoria storms out of the classroom after scoffing at Max’s suggestion, then she turns in her photo. It faded out, and they knew what had happened.

The way Max had done things, Mark had gone to jail and named Nathan, and Paisley as his associate. She was determined not to be a threat and a victim, same as Nathan. While he had been sentenced to a few years in a psych ward, Paisley had been released on her own recognizance. Her aunt hadn’t been happy to hear it.

Now the storm was still here, only difference was that she was here with Chloe, here on the cliff at the lighthouse, the storm towering over them. It was intimidating.

Get home. Now.

That had been all her aunt texted, Paisley knew she wouldn’t go home. Her aunt was probably leaving for Seattle. Despite having a home in Oregon, they kept the one in Seattle as a vacation home. Paisley had been home according to the memories but the pain and deep blue, purple, and black marks on different spaces on her body showed why she wasn’t currently there. Prudence had made sure she mad Paisley’s life the worst, beating her up when she was pregnant because she knew Paisley wouldn’t hit back. Not if it meant possibly injuring her unborn cousin.

The police in this timeline didn’t believe her stories, her truths. When she told them about her aunt Prudence, she must’ve played the concerned aunt. She seemed to play it so well that no one saw through it, she had everyone fooled.

As Paisley looked up at the storm, she wondered what it would be like to be sucked up by it – dead by a storm she caused. It made queasy.

“Chloe – call Max!” The female called her best friend, but the call didn’t last for long. Long enough that Max understood that the storm was still here – destroying Arcadia Bay.

“Fuck! The storm, it—it cut the call. I can’t.”

The bright light flashed, letting her know what she’d missed.

Max traveled again, Lee knew so when she had because they were back in the dark room, Mark re-entering flashed in her mind. Paisley watched Mark cross his arms and glare at Max.

“Oh, fuck!” Mark stands over Max, his arms crossed.

“What did you say, Max?” Max gives a clueless look, examining the space around them as he grew more unhinged and angry.

“Jesus. It's like you're back in my class. You're still...spacing...out. It might be cool if you took one or your patented selfies now... The transformation between the old Max and the new Max...

Max's right foot is shown to be free from the restraint. Max's fearful and confused expression turns to a scowl.

“Anyway, answer my question, please.

“Eat shit and die.” Max spat at him.

“Good answer, good answer.” Max's nose begins bleeding. Mark leans in to inspect it and holds Max's head as she struggles, then steps back.

“Hey...your nose is bleeding. Probably gave you too big a dose. Sorry about that, Max. But considering you're about to die, a nosebleed is a first-world problem.” Max looks over to where Victoria was previously lying on the floor, only to find it empty.

“Oh. I had to let Victoria Chase go.”

“You let her...?”

“Don’t be stupid, okay?! She's exactly where she deserves to be.”

“No...” Max seemed horrified at the thought of Victoria being dead.

“Oh, as if you care.” He scoffed at her, taking notice of her eyes. “Your iris... That...dilation like a shutter...the pictures you're taking of me now. Too bad you pissed away your gift. You could have won the contest, but you destroyed your own beautiful photograph. What a waste. Sorry. I burned all your stuff. I got a little carried away.” Max looks over to see the burned remains of her journal in a tray on the trolley. Her glare at Mark intensifies but he doesn’t take it to heart.

“You know, I always believed in your vision.” He began, “Especially since you've developed from nerd to hero within a week. There's something...weird going on with you.” The lights in the room flicker and thunder can be heard outside. Mark looks at the ceiling and then back at Max.

“Whoa! Did you see how crazy it is outside? Like I said...something weird... There's that fear... Oh, Max... It's an honor working on you with these final sessions. I hope these images will be appreciated for what they truly capture. The loss...of youth.” Mark chuckles like it’s funny. “At least...that's the last lecture you'll ever have to hear from me. And I promise you...no more nosebleeds.

“Mr. Mark... Please...don't do this. You don't know what's happening.” Max cried shakily.

“Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh... Quiet...quiet, Max.” He cooed, walking away. The girl struggles against the tape, sobbing.

“Please! Don't do this!” Mark fills a syringe and walks over to Max.

“I promise. This final dose won't hurt.” He tilts Max's head to expose her neck, about to inject her with the needle. Noises are heard outside the room.

“What?” He runs over to hide behind the entrance, putting down the needle and grabbing a tripod. David enters, holding a gun.

Mark knocks the gun out of David's hands with the tripod who takes a fighting stance and tries to punch him but gets hit in the stomach with the tripod. David doubles over, holding his stomach, and Mark hits him in the head, knocking David unconscious.

“No, David! No!”

“Jesus... David Madsen! He's out cold... Good. I always hated that fascist fuck. Everybody at Blackwell did, right, Max?” He drops the tripod and picks up the needle, approaching Max again.

“Okay... Let's try this one last time...” Max rewinds to before David enters. Lee manages to remember – if this is the way she’s getting out. She’s going to help.

“David, watch out!” Max warns too early, Mark doubles back with the tripod and ready to swing it like a bat, “Time to shut the fuck up, okay?”

The tripod almost hit her, but Paisley was quick to rewind, she kept rewinding until her vision appeared like a burned photo, stopping then. Max tried talking to him this time. Lee’s eyes flickered to where his gun was and she stepped closer to it, making it seem inconspicuous.

“And I promise you...no more nosebleeds.”

“Wait! Hold on! Can I... can I please ask you for one last...request?” Max was hoping he’d take the bait or Lee would help David, but she didn’t know how to. Grabbing the gun would result in Mark killing her or worse. He’d notice too quickly.

“Oh, you got me, Max. How can I deny that face?”

“Uh...excuse me, but my throat is scratchy... Can I please have some water?”

“Of course. I don't want you to be uncomfortable.” Mark moves the trolley closer and pours Max a glass of water, holding it to her mouth so she can drink it. He goes to the trolley and prepares the syringe and approaches her. His feigned kindness has Paisley’s stomach turning.

“I promise. This final dose won't hurt.” There’s a noise, they all hear it. “What?”

As Mark and David fight, Max pushes the trolley with her foot. He’s distracted, and David punches and slaps him, knocking the tripod out of his hands. They face each other in fighting stances.

“No gun...no balls...”

“Mark! It's over!”

“You are not going to stop me!” Mark runs over to a cabinet, shoving Paisley to the ground. David chases him, but he grabs a gun and shoots David, and he falls onto the couch behind him.

“David Madsen...of course. Well, this is what you get for playing cop—a real bullet.” Max rewinds to before Mark grabbed a gun so she can warn David. Lee counts her lucky stars.

“He’s hiding a gun over there!” Mark and David run over to the cabinet. Just as David reaches him, he gets the gun and shoots David twice.

“Sorry, Madsen. Okay... Deja vu.” Max tells David to use the bottle instead.

“Grab that bottle!” David grabs the bottle and throws it at Mark, but he ducks, then shoots David.

“Sorry, Madsen. You should have stuck to harassing students. Okay...” Max tries to tell David to use the gun knocked out of his hands.

“Grab your gun now!”

“Got it...” Just before David reaches his gun on the floor, Mark shoots him.

“Oh, Christ! David Madsen, you are one stupid son of a bitch, so don't blame me.” She even tried the table.

“David! Kick that table!” So many rewinds, so many methods but no way to subdue Mark.

“Yes, sir!” David kicks the table at Mark, but he kicks it back, then shoots David.

“David Madsen... I always hated that mustache...” He chuckled, “You hated him too, Max?” Max uses her foot to pull the cord on one of the lights, knocking it over and distracting Mark. David punches Mark's face twice, knocking off his glasses and knocking him to the floor. He rushes over to Max and undoes her restraints.

“Oh, Lord, Max... are you okay? Are you alright? Can you move?” She nods.

“Yes... Thank you, David...thank you...” Max thanked him.

“Don’t thank me... You brought me here.”  David notices Mark move his head.

“Let’s wrap up this son of a bitch first.” He holsters the gun on the ground, then punches Mark in the face again, knocking him unconscious. Max gets out of the chair.

“He won't be going anywhere when he wakes up.” David turns the teacher over and puts duct tape around his wrists.

“Except you are going to prison forever. Or worse.”

“Mr. Mark? Now it's your turn to be captured in a moment... Save Chloe...”

“Shit! No signal.” Max curses after trying and failing to use her cell phone.

“It’s a fucking bunker, Max.” Paisley scolds, walking over to his desk, opening a drawer to find her bag and personal items. Max spots and grabs the car keys on the table.

“Thanks, Mr. Mark, but...you won't need this anymore.” She says, taking the keys from him and pocketing them.

“David?” She asks and he stands up.

“Are you okay?”

“Look at this place...it feels like hell.”

“Mark was...was going to kill me...like he did to Victoria Chase...”

“Oh, no...”

“I always suspected that son of a bitch.”

“I never did...until too late.” Max looked at Paisley and then down at Mark’s unconscious body on the cold floor.

“You shouldn't have to suspect your teacher.”

“He wasn't a real teacher. He just...wanted to lecture. It was part of his sick plans.”

“I guess I looked just as suspicious when you told Principal Wells that I was...harassing Kate Marsh...and I don't blame you.” David admitted, setting his pride aside. “And, Max... I treated Kate like shit... I know she's a good person, but I'm not. I hope I get to tell her that soon.”

“Me too. I think that would make her very happy.”

“I knew Nathan Prescott was a threat. I just waited too long to neutralize him.”

“Mark already did. They had some weird father-son thing going on. But...Nathan killed Rachel, and Mark had to use him as a scapegoat.”

“That pervert was pulling all this shit right under my nose, too... I could've stopped him and Nathan if only...I wasn't so stupid.”

“No. I should've told Principal Wells Nathan had a gun and... almost used it. I put the school in danger.”

“We all make decisions we regret. But I have to admit, I'm impressed by you...and Chloe, and your investigation. I had all the high-tech toys, while you had each other.”

“We...we are a great team.”

“That’s one of my problems…” He sighed, “I'm not good at teamwork. Never was. Even in the service.” David shook his head disapprovingly.

“I can't even imagine what you went through...”

“I’m not gonna make any excuses for my behavior. I tried to be a good soldier, but...I wasn't so great. I tried to be a good father, too...”

“But...you saw how that went.”

“You tried. It's obvious you care, even if your methods are...”

“Fucked up. I know.”

“I'm glad I stood up for you.”

“I try not to use my service as an excuse, but... It's hard to come home after war. Most people don't know or care what it's like...except Joyce. She gave me hope. A new life.”

“And you saved mine. Chloe, she...she would be proud of you.”

“I just wanna see her safe with her mother. I promised Joyce I would go see a family counselor...and I'll start by apologizing to Chloe. I don't expect her to call me dad, but maybe she'll stop calling me ‘step-douche’.”

“So, where is Chloe?” He looks around to see if he can find her. If Paisley had told them last night or had told Max when she began her search – this wouldn’t have happened. Chloe wouldn’t be dead.

“David, um... She was pretty stressed out, so, um... She went to go, um...medicate before I ended up in here. So, she's okay.” Max lied expertly to him. Thank God he believed it.

“Oh, thank god. For once I'm happy Chloe's a stoner.” He laughs, obviously relieved.

“David, I have to go outside and get some real air...and use my phone. “

He puts a hand on her shoulder, “Of course. Go on, Max. You're a brave soldier. I'm glad Chloe has a best friend like you. Go on, now. You've seen enough of this room.

David sits down at Mark's desk, looking at his computer. The girls ascended the stairs, the door closed behind them.

“Max, I need to go to my house.”

“For what?” She snapped.

“I need my gun. If we’re doing this, I need my gun.” The hipster scoffed.

“A gun. You’re fourteen, you don’t need a fucking gun.” She explained and Lee was growing frustrated. If they didn’t want to die, she needed her gun this time. She’d know what to expect now.

“Max. You’ve put me through hell with these headaches this week. The least you can do it let me have my gun for safety.”

“Safety? How do I know you won’t kill me?”

“Max, we’re fucking time travelers. I wouldn’t kill you. You took me to a reality where my parents were alive. My mom – she told me great things. I have a future, there is a future, Max. Right now, our priorities include rescuing Chloe, Nate, and Victoria.”

“Yeah if Nathan doesn’t try to take our heads off.”

“I’ll explain it to him. I’ll get him.” Max nodded, opening the barn door to reveal Mark’s car. The rain outside was uncontrollable, it came down heavily. Definitely the end of the world. Paisley thought, following Max’s lead.

“Freedom. Holy shit! The storm is real, we need to find Warren.” The dark sky resembled the blackness of the night, the tornado was huge and ready to wreck anything in its path. This is what they’d caused by using their powers to save Chloe. Max takes out her phone and dials a number.

“Yes! Warren! Can you hear me?” Lee checked her phone; it was charged still surprisingly. It said she had a voicemail.

“Never mind… Listen, do you have that photo you took last night in the parking lot?” She checked her phone for messages and shit, ignoring the voicemail. It was probably from a scammer.

“Yes, it is, and I want it! Where are you?” Paisley’s eyes flickered over to Max, watching her talk to Warren. The storm, it was gonna kill everyone. She was sure of it. That’s if they didn’t succeed and save the town.

“I’m on my way.”  They climbed into the car after Max hung up. She drove quick enough that they were on the main roads and in town already.

“Max, we can’t keep doing this. Stop the storm. We have to. We go back and let Nate shoot Chloe.”

“Why are you being so negative?” Max asked, driving through the town.

“You don’t think they hurt when we play with their futures like dolls? Their fates and destinies? Messing them up for what? So, we benefit?”

“You were eager to save Nathan a few minutes ago. The hell is wrong now?”

“My mom – she told me we have destinies, fates – I don’t want to kill everyone if it means we have the four people that matter to us.”

“That’s—”

“You have one new message. Message received yesterday at 9 PM.” The automated voice said. Paisley was angry. Max was playing a fucking voicemail over listening to her.

“Max, it’s… it’s Nathan. I… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna hurt Kate, or Rachel, or Paisley – or… didn’t wanna hurt anybody. Everybody used me!” Nathan crying triggered something inside Paisley, a renewed sense of determination. Rebellion? The biggest fuck you to destiny? Maybe all the above but this boy—he didn’t deserve what he got. “Mr. Jefferson is coming for ME now. All this shit will be over soon. Watch out, Max… He wants to hurt you next. Sorry.” Nathan needed to live. Max looked over at Paisley, giving her a saddened look.

“I didn’t know he sent this.”

“Just after I left him in the dorms. Fuck, Max, I left him to die.” She cried. The rain seemed an extension of her tears, ones she couldn’t cry. They hit the car roughly and Lee felt something snap inside her again. Logic and reason. They stopped in the middle of the road, Max put the car in park, and they left it.

Paisley left Nathan’s jacket open but closed the one she had under it. Together they walked the destroyed streets of the town, avoiding certain death with their destructive powers and helping those they could to make up for it. It was their penance. Once they saved Alyssa, they almost entered the diner, but it blew up. Max rewound and put sand on the line of gas. This time, the diner didn’t blow to smithereens and they entered safely through the side entrance. Through the storeroom, they entered, and Warren shouted for them when he saw them.

"Max! Paisley!" Warren shouted.

"Max! Oh Jesus, I am so glad to see you, sweetie! Are you okay?" Joyce asked Max, checking her briefly.

"Yes. What about you guys?" The female asks.

"The Two Whales is barely standing now... I don't know if it’s going to make it through this tornado. Poor Officer Berry and all those people out there…" She tsked, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"I know." Max agreed.

That's the reason we're in this mess. You rewind cuándo tú quieres.

"Okay, get your ass inside... I have to get back to this gentleman on the ground... Warren has been gathering all the first aid…" Joyce pointed out.

"It’s not much, Joyce. But it’s all we have." He sighed. Max turned to Warren, "You okay, Warren?”

"How the hell did I ignore all those warnings, Max? The snow, the eclipse…" Warren had a disappointed look on his face.

"There’s nothing you could do about it, Warren." Max comforted.

"I’m so stupid... I should have seen it coming…" Warren sulked. Max walked over to Frank.

"Okay, Max, excuse me while I go help this other gentleman." Joyce walked away, leaving her.

“Frank... I'm so glad you're here…”

“That makes two of us. Now if I only had Rachel back… Now Max, what about that info I gave you? Did you and Chloe find out what happened to her?”

Max: “Frank, I don’t know how to say this, so... I just will. Rachel is dead.”

“God, no, please... Please, no... No, not Rachel... She can't fucking be! Are you...? Are you sure? I mean, how do you know?”

“We used the names you gave us to track down a farmhouse. My professor, Mark Jefferson, has this creepy photo torture room... and we found out he was using Nathan Prescott to drug and photograph Blackwell students.”

“Prescott? Fuck! Fuck, I knew it! I should never have hooked up with that sick punk! Pompidou hated him! You saw... you saw Rachel?”

“Yes... I wish I didn't. I'm so, so sorry, Frank. Nathan wanted to impress Jefferson, and he... he killed her.”

“How? How did he kill her?”

“He used some drug... and gave her an overdose…”

“An overdose? The only way Nathan could've done that is... is if I sold it to him. I killed my lioness! No... What have I done?”

“Where is this motherfucker Jefferson?”

"He's going to jail. He won't be hurting anybody anymore…" Max assured.

“Rachel... Oh, God. She was the one good thing in my life, Max. I know she was too young, and... I expected her to leave me, just... just not how it happened. I would never have stopped her from going after her dreams.”

“I know. She obviously cared about you, Frank…”

“Rachel cared about a lot of people... especially Chloe…But, uh... now I see why Rachel dug her... and Chloe was man enough to ask me for help after all that shit, we went through.”

“Chloe would appreciate that…”

“You know, the one time I met my dad, the bastard quoted the bible and said he wanted to ‘enter his house justified.’ In other words, to do the right thing... me too. And maybe you're helping me get there, Max. Don't get me wrong, kid. I still think you're weird... but you're cool.”

“Come on, Max. Let's talk over here and give Frank some resting space.”

“Joyce, how are you doing?”

“Just when I think I've already been through the ringer... Where's Chloe?”

“She's... safe, Joyce. She just sent me a text before my phone died.”

“Oh, thank God... I was torturing myself before you showed up. Oh God, if something happened to Chloe while I ended up stuck at this diner again…”

“I'm sorry about all this, Joyce.”

“Don't be, honey. It's not like you whipped up this tornado on your own…”

“Um... I mean, I’m also sorry about everything with David.”

“You don't have control over any of that. David is an adult and he has a lot more age and experience under his belt. Even if he doesn't always show it…”

“Well... I didn't mean to take David's side against you or Chloe…”

“I know you try to see the good side in everybody... and David needs to try that, too. But that's not important now.”

“I just want our lives to be normal again…”

“With all the shit going on this week, I think you're right. And look at me, trying to keep my family together... again.”

“Joyce, you've gone through so much for Chloe and David. If you were my mom... I would be so proud.”

“Oh sweetie, thank you. But your parents should be prouder of you. Even David told me how tough he thinks you are... and he doesn't give out many compliments, as you know.”

“David is a real hero. I don't know what he's gone through in war, but I can imagine... and he even showed me how to find my own strength under extreme conditions.”

“I'm so glad to hear you say that, Max... I know he's not always an easy person to defend... Most people only see him at his worst... You've seen him at his best. And that's the man I want in my life.”

“I hate to say I'm glad to see you, but I'm so glad to see you.”

“That's okay. The important thing is that you're safe... and I know you can take care of yourself, after Nathan.”

“Should have done that a long time ago. But damn, Max... I can't believe you actually drove down here in the middle of a fucking E6 tornado, just for one photograph... I mean, I know you didn't come for me.”

“Warren, I came for all of you. Just tell me you do have the photograph.”

“I just want…”

“Now shut up and listen.”

“Oh yeah, you’re finally going to tell me what you never did in the parking lot…”

“I wish I would have. So, I'm just going to tell you without any explanation. Trust me, okay?”

“I always do. You should probably tell me quick…”

“I had a vision in Jefferson's class of a tornado destroying Arcadia Bay. I went to the bathroom and saw my best friend Chloe get shot by Nathan Prescott...You with me so far?”

“Where else could I be? Go on!”

“Then I found out that I could rewind time... And, long story short, Mark Jefferson is insane and dangerous.”

“Whoa... Is that all?”

“I think that this storm started... everything started... when I found out I could rewind time... There's no way this is just a coincidence, right?”

“Max, not only the storm but the eclipse, the birds, the whales... everything!”

“All because... because of me? How?”

“I'm not a real scientist, even though I play one at school, but this seems like pure cause and effect, maybe Chaos Theory... Uh, what happened with Jefferson? Did... Did he hurt you?”

“Nathan accidentally killed Rachel Amber trying to impress Jefferson… Nathan just needed mental help... Now he's dead... and Jefferson is done.”

“Jesus, Max! I want the whole story, but... I guess we really are out of time.”

“But I can still change things. What do you think will happen?”

“For every action, there's... there's a reaction... Whenever you reversed or altered time, maybe you caused a chain reaction... even in the environment.”

“Warren, I know this all sounds insane... but you're the only other person who I can count on now... I wish we had more time together... Do you believe me?”

“Max, of course I believe you. You're the most amazing person I've ever met... and I'm glad you trust me.”

“Always. I just wish I could trust my powers…”

“I guess we'll never know if it's magic or science…”

“Even if it's from a wizard or a wormhole... You're part of something bigger. I don't believe in fate or destiny, but after this week, I realize I don't know shit.”

“That makes both of us, Warren…”

“I do know you're here for a reason... and I guess it's up to you to find out why. Max... I'm sorry you got stuck in this... in this... I don't have a fucking clue what's going on. But I have total faith that you'll do the right thing when the time comes. I'm so proud of you, Max. How could there be a more important moment in history? And I'm in the middle of it with you? So, thank you for trusting me.”

“Thanks for being here. Always.” Warren takes out the polaroid and places it in front of Max.

“Hey... Be careful out there.”

“For luck.” Max kisses Warren.

“Just in case we don’t get out of this... I wanted to say…”

“I know, Warren…”

“Of course, you do.”

“I’m going to make the right choices from now on... I swear.”

“That's why you're Super Max.” Max focuses on the photo and travels back in time, Lee willingly in tow.

Paisley is back in the dorms with Nathan, but she calls Warren and Victoria first, telling them to meet her at the lighthouse.

“Why the lighthouse?” Nate asks, his eyes red and puffy.

“So, we’ll be safe, Nate.”

It fades out of the photo and back into reality. When it does, Max looks around, inspecting her surroundings. Chloe is standing in front of her, watching the tornado with Paisley who is only more confused. Nathan, Warren, and even Victoria were standing with them. That worked better than she thought.

“Oh, Chloe!”

Max runs up to Chloe and hugs her tightly. Chloe turned around. “I see that the real Max is back... So, how was your time trip, dude?”

“Shut up. Oh, you're alive! You're alive, oh... Both of us! I did so much to bring you back, Chloe... and it worked. It actually worked. You're with me again.”

“It looks like even fate doesn't want us apart. And... you traveled through multiple realities just to... save my ungrateful ass over and over. I hope it was worth it, but... I don't blame you for wanting me out of your life, after all my drama.”

“Come on. I'm the official Drama King and Queen of Arcadia Bay this week. Just look at what my powers have caused in... just a short time. I mean... I'm nobody.”

“You're Max-fucking-Caulfield, Time Warrior. Even if you weren't, you're kind and caring. Nobody could have a better best friend... Nobody. You didn't ask for any of this to happen, but it did. You need to accept how awesome you are.”

“Maybe I willed it subconsciously, or something. I always wanted my life to be special... an adventure... but not without you. And it didn't happen until I moved back here, so... without you, my powers wouldn't even exist.”

“Then for whatever scientific, mystical reason, that we'll obviously never figure out... We were meant to be together at this exact moment in history. I have to think that Rachel was somewhere behind the scenes, fighting for justice…”

“I'd like to think that, too... We all owe Rachel Amber. Now tell me everything that happened. You... You remember, right?”

“Well, we... we left the party and made sure Jefferson couldn't find us. For once, I was glad I lived in an actual fortress. Then the storm got hella crazy and... and you said we would be safe at the lighthouse.”

“Chloe, look! The storm is getting bigger now. It's coming closer. I... I can't even believe this is real, but this is happening because of me.”

“Stop it! Stop beating yourself up, okay? We've both paid our dues already on that. Oh, God, look at that! Look at that monster! Who knows...? This could be Rachel's revenge... Our revenge. The lighthouse is out of the way of the tornado. Come on!”

“Oh... What... Chloe…” Max collapses and Chloe holds her up.

“I've got your back, Max.” Paisley helps Chloe keep the girl steady as it all fades away.

Chloe and Max fall to the ground but Paisley stands there, glancing at Nathan, Warren, and Victoria over her shoulder. They were miserable in the storm, but she was glad to see Nate faring well and even Victoria for what it was worth.

"Max? Max, can you hear me? Please, say something." Chloe called.

"Chloe? I... I must have passed out... Sorry." Max apologized to her best friend.

"Oh, thank God... Don't you ever do that again, okay?"

"I swear... but that nightmare was so real... was so horrible…"

Chloe takes Max's arm and they stand up together, she watches the storm she created in horror.

"This is my storm. I caused this... I caused all of this. I changed fate and destiny so much that... I actually did alter the course of everything. And all I really created was just death and destruction!"

"Fuck all of that, okay? You were given a power. You didn't ask for it... and you saved me. Which had to happen, all of this did... except for what happened to Rachel. But without your power, we wouldn't have found her! Okay, so you're not the goddamn Time Master, but you're Maxine Caulfield... and you're amazing. Max, this is the only way."

Chloe hands Max the photo she took of the blue butterfly. The one from the bathroom, it was undamaged, looking like it’d been taken recently.

"I feel like I took this shot a thousand years ago."

"You... You could use that photo to change everything right back to when you took that picture... All that would take is for me to... to…" Chloe grabs Max’s face and holds it.

"Fuck that! No... no way! You are my number one priority now. You are all that matters to me." Max yelled.

"I know. You proved that over and over again... even though I don't deserve it. I'm so selfish... not like my mom... Look what she had to give up and live through... and she did. She deserves so much more than to be killed by a storm in a fucking diner. Even my step... father deserves her alive. There's so many more people in Arcadia Bay who should live... way more than me…" Chloe cried. They had a right to be melodramatic about it. This decided if someone lived or died. Paisley would hate it if Chloe was killed by Nate and she survived a week in hell, being brave, just to be locked up.

"Don't say that... I won't trade you." Max said.

"You're not trading me. Maybe you've just been delaying my real destiny... Look at how many times I've almost died or actually died around you. Look at what's happened in Arcadia Bay ever since you first saved me. I know I've been selfish, but for once I think I should accept my fate... our fate…"

"Chloe…"

"Max, you finally came back to me this week, and... you did nothing but show me your love and friendship. You made me smile and laugh, like I haven't done in years. Wherever I end up after this... in whatever reality... all those moments between us were real, and they'll always be ours. No matter what you choose, I know you'll make the right decision."

"Chloe... I can't make this choice…" Chloe grabs Max's arms.

"No, Max... You're the only one who can. Max... it's time…"

"Not anymore." Max tears apart the polaroid and it blows away in the storm. The five teenagers watch the tornado. This was it, this is the end.

"Max... I'll always be with you."

"Forever…"

Chloe holds hands with Max and they watch as the tornado hits Arcadia Bay. Max shakes her head and Chloe wraps her arm around Max. Soon enough they left the lighthouse and by morning Chloe was driving through the town. Lee gave it a look, it made her nauseous, but she had to be selfish once in life. Maybe she’d been selfish all along. As they leave the town, they see an Arcadia Bay sign, Warren and Paisley exchange a look, the same as Nate and Victoria. It hadn’t taken a long time to get on a cliff far from Arcadia. But it did destroy them inside just a little bit.

“What do we do now?”

“We go to the police, somewhere else in Oregon. David – he’s not in the bunker here. Is he?”

“What if step-douche fails?” Chloe asks through the open truck window.

Lee shrugs, looking out the back of the truck, “Then we’re done for.”

[robronsecretvalentine]

Still a Flicker of Hope That You First Gave to Me

For @howellobrien

Happy valentines! when i was told you were my secret valentine’s i knew i had to do this justice, because you’re one of my favourite people ever, so i really hope you enjoyed it💘 

Aaron’s future comes to him at a time he needs it the most. or, a valentines day fic, with a twist. warnings for aaron’s attempting suicide and vague mentions of gordon. promise it has a happy ending!

He didn’t have anything to live for. His life was over, as far as Aaron was concerned. Now, too many people had discovered his darkest secret, the one he had tried for so long to repress and he didn’t want to be alive when any more people found out. Now they knew, he would never be able to live a normal life again. It would always go unspoken, that Aaron liked boys – not girls. He could practically hear the whispers already, his mind going a million miles an hour, flashes of images of whispering villagers invading his mind, the disappointment and disgust evident on their faces.

It was for the best. This was for the best. Aaron locked the garage doors shut, made sure that no chemicals could leave the confined space and got into the car, turning the engine on and tilting his head back, just as though he was ready to fall asleep. At ease, he seemed, with teardrops staining his face.

This was really it, then. The end. Eighteen whole years, torn away in this clapped out old car, hidden away in his uncles garage. He shut his eyes and let the fumes take over his body, his chest rising up and down and up and down. If this was any other situation, Aaron would let sleep consume him, and he’d fall into a deep sleep, his brain ticking over with dreams, perfect dreams. Instead, Aaron was ready to give up on his life, and with his eyes shut and his nose streaming from the stench of the fumes, his mind worked overtime and suddenly, the life he could have was shown before his eyes.

First, was Jackson. He could see a lot of emotions with this: happy times, but also tear stricken faces. The word ‘love’ seemed to be thrown about a lot, Aaron on the receiving end of it. That couldn’t be true. Nobody would ever love Aaron, because Aaron was incapable of loving himself. It just seemed like a piece of far fetched imagination, like it would never happen, but as Aaron lay there, more and more things began to piece together in his mind. Eating with his mum and Carl, Jackson by his side; shared kisses; nights out in Bar West; hospitals; tears; Jackson in a wheelchair. It wasn’t a perfect life, by any stretch of the imagination – but it was one with Aaron still breathing, against the odds.

With Jackson, Aaron was open. He saw villagers he recognised, ones that had never said more than a word to him, and they were all happy for him. It seemed as though the angry at the world teenager wasn’t there so much anymore, and everyone appreciated that. Although, towards the end, Aaron was angry again, tears streaming down his face and producing somewhat of a beard. It seemed as though his life was worse than now, with the fumes seeping into his body and Aaron already struggling to breathe normally.

Next, was Ed. This was a weird one, because everything seemed to happen in quick succession. Aaron saw feelings he’d never experienced before, and he wasn’t exactly sure what they were. He saw a fire, the farm, a plane. It was never on Aaron’s radar to go travelling the world, so this was strange. He saw hugs with his mum and Paddy, the police and running from them. He saw France, the architecture and the food and the nightlife and never saw his family.

With Ed, Aaron laughed until he cried, and then he cried a lot. There was slamming doors and tantrums and fists through walls and then Aaron was packing a bag and running away in the middle of the night. He was stuck in France, it seemed, moving from cheap hotel to cheap hotel, earning a few Euros here and there, taking cleaning jobs where people didn’t seem to ask much about him.

Aaron struggled to breathe even more now, his chest heavy, like bricks were stacked up upon him. It was as though, with every tenth breath he managed to take, his chest finally managed to protrude, but then more fumes entered his body, Aaron’s mind going all foggy.

Then it was Robert. All blond hair and cheeky grins, a far cry from anyone Aaron thought he’d ever be with. He wore suits and smart clothes and Aaron’s fashion was at the other end of the spectrum, barely so much as skinny jeans in sight. This was so much more, in every sense of the word. Aaron could see a lot of pain and anguish, but also could see just how much happier Robert made him. He could see it in the smile on his face, the warmth he could feel in every kiss, in every hug. He could hear it in every laugh, or every groan at an awful joke that left Aaron chuckling in complete and utter disappointment. He saw posh hotels and suits that Aaron actually wore, and soft kisses and Robert holding his hand. He saw the inside of a court house, Robert running his thumb over his hand and heard the word ‘guilty’ and the gavel hitting wood. He saw a new house, one that became his home, and weddings for the two of them. That didn’t seem possible for Aaron, that he would find someone that not only he loved, but who loved him enough to want to put a ring on his finger, tell everyone they knew how he felt, and sign a bit of paper that bound them together – for life.

But this was enough to keep Aaron hanging on. He felt weak, couldn’t move, and as his brain ticked he wished someone would come and rescue him. Aaron dropped out of consciousness and his head lolled to the side as a loud crash rung out, Adam kicking the garage door down and screaming out Aaron’s name, a torturous and lasting sound. Adam broke open the car door and dragged Aaron’s lifeless body to safety, all limp and like he was already gone.

But he was there. Aaron fought through it all, and everything he imagined, it happened. Jackson, Ed, and now Robert.

He was married. Happily. Aaron had a small family, his own family and it was great. It was also a very cold February morning, condensation blurring out the sun, the only sliver of heat in the countryside. Robert stretched out his arms over the bed, the thin hairs standing up on edge, goosebumps rising on his skin. He couldn’t feel Aaron next to him in the bed, an indentation of his body still left in the mattress. If Robert listened closely, he could hear Aaron sneaking back upstairs, the floorboards squeaking every so often and the clatter of cutlery and pottery as they slid about under his hold. The door opened and there was Aaron, dressed in a pair of old joggers that should have long since been thrown out, holes at the seams and everything, and Robert’s dressing gown, hair natural and gel-free against his face.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” Aaron whispered, knee pressing the mattress down, putting the plate of food down onto the bed, before leaning forward and leaving a soft kiss to Robert’s skin. Truth be told, he grinned to himself ever so slightly when he realised Robert’s cheeks instantly flushed.

Robert smiled and moved his head, angling for a proper kiss off Aaron. He got one.

“Happy Valentine’s day to you too.” Robert soothed, sitting up on his side of the bed, his chest instantly cold before he reached over and grabbed one of Aaron’s discarded hoodies.

“I got you this.” Aaron said, handing over a card that was delicately balanced in the space between the full English and the cup of coffee.

Robert opened up the envelope and tried (and failed) to hold back a snort when he read the front of it.

‘Happy Valentines to my favourite bisexual!’ was emblazoned of the front, complementing an awful photo of Robert that he had sent Aaron early on in their relationship, when the two of them had finally become more comfortable with one another.

“Dickhead.” He chuckled, glancing at Aaron who looked so proud of himself.

“You love me though.” Aaron grinned and leaned forward, unable to control his urges. Not when Robert looked that good next to him. “Open it up.”

And so he did. Robert opened up the card, and inside, wasn’t just a printed “I love you” followed by Aaron’s name and a kiss, no. Inside was Aaron’s handwriting, all over both sides of the card. It was clear he’d taken care and time in writing this all out and before he even read the contents, Robert’s heart felt as though it was fit to burst.

It’s mad to think that this time five years ago we didn’t know each other, and yet by the end of that year, you suddenly meant everything to me. We’ve been through a lot, me and you, but I knew I loved you from the beginning. You changed everything for me. You helped me through a lot of things, some I never thought I’d ever tell people, and in turn, you allowed yourself to love me, and me to love you too. I’m not good with words, but I wanted to let you know just how much you mean to me. This is our first Valentines as official husbands, so I wanted to spoil you. I know we don’t have to have one day a year where we tell each other how we feel, but I love you and I wanted to tell you that. Thank you for being you, and for helping me through everything. The first holiday we were meant to go on never happened, and you said it was just postponed until further notice. So, in a week, we’re going to BARCELONA!! I love you, from your Aaron x

Robert looked up from the card, tears welling up in his eyes and his cheeks flushed red. “We’re finally going?”

Aaron could do nothing but not, his own eyes filling up with tears.

“I love you,” said Robert, arms wrapping around Aaron’s body, mouth pressed to his neck. Comforting. “So much.”

“Love you too.” Aaron smiled, his hand reaching up and stroking Robert’s hair. “Also might’ve planned a detour so we can go and see your gran.”

Robert didn’t move, but Aaron could feel on his skin that Robert’s breath hitched for just a second and his lips grew into a smile. “You’re the best.” He mumbled into Aaron’s neck.

Aaron chuckled, pressing his lips to Robert’s head. “I try.”

It was just like Aaron saw, all those years ago. Years of struggles, fights and tears would all be worth it in the end, because he’d have his family when it mattered.

[gwenore]

Inheritance. Chapter 3.

Chapter 3: Jim’s birthday bad luck is not over yet. 

Summary: Jim Lake Jr. never knew his father. On his sixteenth birthday however his father… or more precisely what his father is, would change the young teen’s life forever. His own life thrown into turmoil and danger, his history teacher offers guidance and to teach him how to fight the trolls who will now come for him… not to mention their champion. The trollhunter.

Jim was getting himself ready for bed finally looking forward to his birthday to be over. While not ending too bad… his mother and him as well as Toby was eating pizza and watching a movie together.

He had tried his best not to think about what had happened earlier in the day.

Brushing his teeth in the mirror he found himself staring at his hand, feeling a need to make certain that they weren’t indeed turning blue.

But… luckily… they were the same hands which he had been looking at for sixteen years at this point.

He sighed.

What was his life going to be now? Would he have a normal life? What was he?

He knew that Strickler said that his father was a changeling… but what did that mean? Strickler had promised he would guide him.

Jim turned off the water.

At least Strickler being a teacher… that would mean he was able to have a normal life… right?

And… his father had been with his mother… so… that meant he could have a relationship… right?

But his father had left. Vanished as far as Jim knew… not that he had looked, but… had that to do with him being a changeling.

Jim shook his head, walking out of the bathroom wandering outside of his mother’s room.

Did she know? What his father was? What… he was?

He swallowed.

He could not tell her. But… what if she saw him… like that? He closed his eyes.

He turned away from his mother’s door and walked towards his own bedroom. Inside he fell to the bed as he gazed up to the ceiling.

His stomach was turning as all these thoughts would not leave him be. Slowly he sat himself up, hiding his head in his arms.

There was so many questions that was running through her head that it was just about driving him insane.

He needed answers.

He wondered for a moment if he should call Mr. Strickler. But what would he say? Admitting that he was terrified? That he couldn’t sleep?

He shook his head.

He sat himself up, breathing softly as he ran his hand through his hair, tugging slightly. Already he found himself missing his old life… the life he knew before this day.

Standing up he started to wander the room, shaking his head and stretching his arms.

“I hate this…” he muttered before he fell down on the bed.

The teenager did his best trying to fall asleep, but remained simply staring at his ceiling.

Time passed like that and he had fallen into an uneasy sleep before something stirred within him and he sat himself up, looking around nervously.

What… was there a sound outside?

Something instinctively made him practically crawl towards the window, poking his head above the window.

Outside there was a lumbering shade which wandered close to his house, smelling. Never in his life had the boy’s heart beat so quickly. Every fiber within him told him that he was in danger.

A troll.

He still did not know what a troll really was. But… he knew this was one. Instincts told him so.

What if it got closer? Could it smell him? Would he be eaten on his birthday?

He needed to get out of the house, get away. The last thing Jim wanted was for his mother to be in danger because of something that he had caused… even if that was just by existing.

He grabbed his phone and his teacher’s number… luckily he had remembered that, though he cursed himself for not having put it into his phone earlier because he was too lazy. Jim did not know if his teacher could do anything, but it wasn’t as if he could call the police about a troll. They would think he was insane. Jim wasn’t certain if he wasn’t, but he still was not tempted in being put in a mental hospital.

Slowly he took his coat over his shoulders and watching that the creature was not under his window before he slipped out the window and let himself fall to the ground below, having never had trouble jumping from tall heights.

Which… after today might make more sense than it did before.

Hearing the troll coming closer he did not have time to think about it as he ran towards the forest, desperately trying to dial Strickler’s number. The troll was closing in causing the teenager to run for his life.

This feeling and desperation running through his body and his heart beating faster and faster, Jim felt his body being… strange.

A feeling he had not felt since this… morning… in the school bathroom…

“No, no, NO! NOT NOW!” he shouted, but he saw that blue form filling the night air and he found himself not looking quite like himself.

“FUCK!” again he did not have much time to dwell on the situation as the troll was closing in on him as he set out running through the forest.

He was hiding against a large tree finishing dialing the number while he was struggling to breathe due to the fear.

However this intense fear coursing through it made his troll instincts take over and just as he raised his phone to call his teacher. Instead the taste of metal and plastic filled his mouth. Jim widened his eyes as he glanced down to see the pieces that was formally his phone fall into his hands.

“NO!” he let out a shout of desperation. How had he just eaten his phone? What the hell was he going to do now?

“Toby!” he exclaimed to himself.

He never had wanted anyone to see him like this, but… Toby had known him longer than most and if anyone could accept this… insanity… it would be him.

Jumping over the fence to his friend’s yard, it was very dark, but he proceeded to throw small rocks at the window in order to draw his attention.

The window was slowly opened and Jim could see Toby poke his head out.

“Jim…?” he asked confused, scratching his head slowly. “What are you…?”

“I need your phone!” Jim said as loud as he dared.

“What happened to your phone…? …wait… something seems different about you…” Toby hesitated for a moment.

“Look! I don’t have time! Just toss me your phone!” Jim was desperately looking over his shoulders, hoping that the troll would not come any closer.

“Look you are being even stranger than usual… but I will be right down…” Toby was clearly still sleepy as he vanished from the window before Jim could protest. Letting out a slight whimper he continued to look over his shoulder, pleading that Toby would hurry up and that the troll would not come.

Hearing Toby coming closer Jim froze, he was not actually ready for anyone seeing him like this.

“Jim… uh… do you have horns?” Toby stared at his friend with astonishment. Sure it looked like his friend… only… with horns… and tusks and… blue…?

Jim swallowed.

“Please do not freak out! I am still Jim! I promise!” he insisted, Toby just having to look up and down.

“Uh… alright… not freaking out… I mean… doing my best not too, not every day your friend turns… blue. Uh… was this why you were weird today at school?” Toby asked.

“Yeah… whole… turning blue got me a bit freaked out,” Jim scratched the back of his head.

“I can imagine… so… this has not happened before?” Toby tried to pinch himself to make certain this was not some sort of insane dream. It was not. Which was utterly insane.

“No. But I need to call, there is a troll out there and if I cannot ask Strickler what to do it is going to eat me!” Jim stepped closer. Toby’s eyes widened.

“Uh… you sure you haven’t lost it? And what is Strickler going to do? Lecture it to death?!” however he allowed his friend to take his phone.

“Look Strickler knows about these things, he is… sort of like me,” Jim explained as he was quick to dial in the number.

“So… our history teacher isn’t… human. Huh… you think I’d be more surprised about that…” Toby scratched his chin slightly.

Jim finally managed to get through and heard someone pick up, just as Toby started to poke him quickly to get his attention.

“Strickler?! There is a… what Toby? I need to-”

“TROLL!”

[ebdaydreamer]

Still a Drama Queen

Late for AU August! @doctorroseprompts

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Rose/Twelve

Warnings: N/A

Rose Tyler has been happily married to the Doctor for millennia, but all their adventuring has come to an abrupt halt with the 'execution' of Missy. Now, they've been stuck at a university on Earth, away from the stars and their adventures, but the Doctor's new pupil gives Rose something new: hope.

[AO3]

Over two thousand years, they’d been married. Two thousand years of adventure and friendship and parenthood, all ended by Missy.

Rose resented the Time Lady, but she couldn’t hate her, not when the Doctor’s relationship with her ran so deep and meant so much.

Her ears perked as the mechanical squeak of Nardole approached. What did he want n- oh, yes. The Doctor had asked a Bill Potts to come and see him. Odd, Rose had thought, a century at the university, thousands of pupils and sneaked into his lectures, and not once had he asked one of them to meet him in the office. Though once he explained his intentions to tutor her, Rose teased that he needed someone new to show off to.

As the door opened, Rose sighed, placing her book back on the shelf, turning to meet her husband’s new pupil.

*

‘Well, this is weird,’ thought Bill, as the man who led her to the office stumbled away. The professor who everyone knew as ‘The Doctor’ had asked her - a canteen worker - to his office. And what a strange office it was. The room was littered with unusual bits and bobs. A giant police box stood proud in the corner. A pen pot contained stick-like things that couldn’t possibly be pens. The desk was completely covered in photos. One had a young, smiling blonde, probably in her early twenties. Another was a big group photo with several teenagers, the blonde woman again, and a man in a pinstriped suit. The next one had all different faces, except the blonde woman again, barely aged a day. Another one was full of adults, the only people she recognised was the man in the suit and the blonde yet again. Only one photo didn’t have the blonde: a black and white photo of a teenage girl with a dark pixie cut.

“You must be Bill, right?” a voice said from above, startling her.

Bill glanced at the balcony to see a woman leaning on the bannister and had to refrain from gasping. She was beautiful. Couldn’t be more than fifty, she seemed to have an ethereal glow about her. Her face was gently lined, laugh lines emphasised by her kind smile. She was wearing black skinny jeans and a cream jumper: a plain look that somehow seemed so elegant on her. Her brown eyes twinkled with something Bill couldn’t quite place and her blonde hair fell in natural curls just past her shoulders. It was then Bill realised: she was the woman from the pictures.

But those pictures look far too modern for her to be fifty.

It was when the woman reached the bottom of the stairs that Bill noticed she was staring… and that she’d been asked a question.

“Yeah. Bill Potts.”

The woman stuck out her hand, “Rose Tyler, the Doctor’s wife. You’re here to see him?”

“He asked me to meet him, yeah. Not sure why,” Bill confessed.

Rose smiled sympathetically, “Most of what he does doesn’t mak-”

She was cut off by an electric guitar ripping apart the silence.

Rose rolled her eyes and muttered, “Beethoven again.” She knocked on the right-hand door and yelled, “Bill’s here, dear.”

Rose pulled out a tablet and sat on the window ledge as the Doctor poked his head out the door, sunglasses perched on his face.

*

As her husband disappeared again, Rose heard the familiar sound of the sonic whirring followed by feedback.

Typical, Rose thought loudly over the bond, has an appointment due yet decides to play rock star again.

Oi! came the reply. Rose chuckled and opened up her emails to find several lengthy letters from the kids.

“Potts?”

“Yeah?”

“Bill Potts?”

“You wanted to see me?”

The Doctor emerged from behind the door and shuffled some papers. “Er, you’re not a student at this university.”

“Nah, I work in the canteen,” Bill replied easily.

“Yeah but you come to my lectures,” he accused.

“No I don’t. I never do that,” she denied, even though she had to have known she’d been caught. Rose smiled to herself: exactly what she would’ve done.

“I’ve seen you.”

“Love your lectures. They’re totally awesome.”

Oh, I like her, Rose thought with a suggestive smirk.

The Doctor gave her a mental eye roll, You know we can’t, love.

“Why’d you come to my lectures when you’re not a student?”

“Ok,” Bill took a deep breath, and Rose felt a rant coming on, “so my first day here, in the canteen, I was on chips. There was this girl. Student. Beautiful. Like a model, only with talking and thinking. She looked at you and you perved. Every time, automatic, like physics. Eye contact, perversion. So I gave her extra chips. Every time, extra chips. Like a reward for all the perversion. Every day, got myself on chips, rewarded her. Then finally, finally, she looked at me, like she'd noticed, actually noticed, all the extra chips. Do you know what I realised? She was fat. I'd fatted her. But that's life, innit? Beauty or chips. I like chips. So did she. So that’s ok.”

“Completely agree,” Rose butted in. “Always chose chips over anything.”

“As much as I agree, how does that in any way explain why you keep coming to my lectures?” he asked, moving to stand by the desk.

Bill stiffened, probably thinking over what she’d just said, “Yeah, it doesn't really, does it? I was hoping something would develop.” She looked around, clearly hoping for a distraction. “What's that? A police telephone box?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor moved to stand by the TARDIS, and they both felt her mournful tug, begging them to take her out.

“Did you build it from a kit?”

The Doctor looked almost offended and Rose had to stifle a laugh, “No, it came like that!”

“Then how did you get it in here? The door's too small and so are the windows,” Bill pointed out. Observant, and probably very nosy.

“I had the window and a part of the wall taken out and it was lifted in.”

“What, with a crane?”

“Yeah, with a crane. It's heavier than it looks. Why do you keep coming to my lectures?” He brushed off the conversation, but Rose felt his sorrow, linked so closely with her own, as she watched him take his seat.

“Because I like them,” she replied as if it were obvious (which it was). “Everybody likes them. They're amazing.” She shrugged, “Why me?”

“Why you what?”

“Well, plenty of people come to your lectures that aren't supposed to. Why pick on me?”

“Well, I noticed you.” Not answer enough, dear. I was right: showing off.

“Yeah, but why?” Bill continued questioning.

The Doctor wrung his hands, gazing at the picture of Susan on his desk. “Well, most people when don' t understand something, they frown. You,” he pointed at her and paused for the dramatic effect he adored so much, “smile.”

“I'll tell you what I don't understand,” Bill began. “You've been lecturing here for a long time. Like, fifty years, some people say. Nabeela in the office says over seventy. Except for the random three-year disappearance in 2006.”

“Family matters,” Rose answered automatically.

The Doctor ignored that comment. “Yeah, and you're thinking, 'Well, he doesn't look old enough'.”

“No.” The Doctor’s face fell and this time Rose couldn’t help but giggle. Don’t worry, love. The silver fox definitely works for me.

“I'm wondering what you're supposed to be lecturing on. It's like the university let you do whatever you like. One time, you were going to give a lecture on quantum physics. You talked about poetry.”

“Poetry, physics, same thing,” he shrugged.

“How is it the same?”

“Because of the rhymes. What are you doing at this university?” he diverted again.

“I always wanted to come here,” she stated plainly.

“Yeah, to serve chips?”

Rude.

Bill cocked her head to the door. “So anyway, am I nearly done?”

“Do you want to be?”

“See ya.” She got to her feet, clearly thinking she was.

‘Oh how wrong you are,’ Rose thought to herself.

The Doctor didn’t watch her leave, picking papers up off his desk. “You ever get less than a first, then it's over,” he called casually.

Bill halted. “You what?”

“A first. Every time, or I stop immediately.”

“Stop what?”

“Being your personal tutor.,” he grinned. Drama queen, Rose chided.

“But I'm not a student,” Bill was definitely surprised, exactly what her stupid husband was going for. “I'm not part of the university. I never even applied.”

“We'll sort all that out later,” he announced, rushing over to the door, grin firm on his face.

“You kinda have to sort that out earlier.”

“Leave it with me,” he promised. “I'm assuming that it's a yes.”

Bill just blinked for a moment, before looking over to Rose to see if he was serious. Rose sent her a warm smile to reassure to the poor girl. Seemingly convinced, she gasped out, “Yes.”

“I'll see you at 6pm every weekday. I don't care who's dying, never, ever be late. I'm very particular about time.”

Rose rolled her eyes, “Ignore him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“Ok,” Bill beamed and made to leave, but soon turned back. “Oh, er. People just call you the Doctor? What do I call you? Doctor Tyler?”

“No. The Doctor.”

“But Doctor's not a name. I can't just call you Doctor. Doctor what?”

The Doctor stared at her, before facing Rose. “Roooose, she didn’t do the thing!” he whined.

Rose chuckled. As much as this body pretended he was more grown-up, he was still just a child at heart. “I know, love. I’m sorry. Humans aren’t a hive mind.”

As Bill left the couple, Rose heard the Doctor grumble, “Not at this point in history anyway.”

[eternlmisery]

Rainy dinner dates & Promises of the future (Rewritten 9/?)

Read also on ao3 | Read “Rewritten” on ao3

January 22nd 2014

Sara unlocked the door of her apartment, walking in and throwing the gym bag that contained her mask, wig and suit on the sofa. She glanced around the house; noticing that the lights were turned on, which was something that she never did.  In the distance she heard footsteps approaching with a pair of bare feet walking on her floor. She slowly leaned down and grabbed a knife from her boot; clutching it in her hands. Sara launched forward and put the blade right on the intruder’s neck only to realize that the man was Leonard. He was wearing only a towel and he looked like he had just gotten out of the shower, with droplets of water going down his wet and bare skin.

“And here I thought you had missed me…” He drawled as Sara dropped the knife on the sofa and pulled him in for a kiss; successfully shushing him. He had been gone for about a week on a job on Coast City and despite talking on the phone and texting daily, having Leonard in front of her was so much better.

“You should know better by now than to sneak up on me.”

“Well remind me to announce my name next time.” Leonard answered and she rolled her eyes; earning a smirk from the man. “I brought dinner.” Sara let out a squeal; running towards the kitchen counter where Leonard had set a bag of Thai food. “We made a stop on our way back and this is from one of the best Thai places.”

“Go get dressed and I’ll get things set up.” She looked at her boyfriend from head to toe appreciatively before biting her lower lips. Suddenly, waiting to have sex until they knew each other better seemed like a terrible idea. “And be fast.”

A few minutes later, Leonard reemerged dressed in only a pair of sweat pants; thankful for Sara turning on the heat. All of his other clothes were stained with either dried or still fresh blood and the last thing he wanted was Sara questioning him about how much collateral damage there was. Usually he kept the people who died in the smallest number possible but some heists just didn’t want to go according to plan.

“So, did you earn a lot?” Sara asked him innocently as she popped a beer open and handed it to him.

“A little less than I had expected but it will do. Though your advice not to rob that auction house in Gotham saved our asses. Another crew decided to go there and the cops got wind of it. So did the Bat dude. One of them burned half of his body. Thank god it wasn’t us.” He stated; sipping his beer. His own instinct told him but that job wasn’t going to end up well but the money would be really good so if it wasn’t for Sara’s persistence…

“I’ll drink to that.” She mused and they clunk their bottles. “But you’re taking me to dinner tomorrow. You had promised that-.”

“I’ve already made a reservation.” Sara smirked at him; pressing a kiss on his cheek. She had missed him that past week and now that they were together nothing was holding her back from showing and telling him. “Someone is in a good mood.”

“I have you back, Snart. Don’t I deserve to be just the tiniest bit of happy?” She questioned with a small smile and Leonard shrugged. “How about we finish this and then we go to bed?”

“Don’t you have classes tomorrow?”

“I do. We’re just gonna sleep.” Sara said; making Leonard pout.

“Any word from Dr. Wells?” asked the blonde from her spot on the sofa on Joe’s house. The other woman was searching to lend Sara a pair of heels to wear on her dinner with Leonard. She had already put on her fitting dark blue dress with spaghetti straps and was just finishing up her make up.

“I found them!” Iris said as she walked down the stairs with a pair of high heels that matched Sara’s dress perfectly. “And no. I’ve been going there every day and he’s stable. Still the same.”

“At least his heart stopped failing. By the way I think Felicity is coming to visit again.” Stated Sara; sliding on the heels easily, thankful that she and Iris wore the same shoe number.

“Is Laurel or Oliver coming with her this time?” Iris asked and sat next to Sara, fixing her hair. Sara smiled. If only she knew… She had told Iris that Laurel was her actual sister but the woman had swore not to ever mention it to anyone. Sara knew that one search on the police files would get her in a lot of trouble, but she chose to believe in Iris.

“Well Oliver is busy every day and night so I doubt it, but I think that Laurel is thinking about it. I hope she comes because I think that you will get along very well.” Laurel has talked to Sara about coming with Felicity to Central City. The craziness in Starling was getting too much for Laurel and despite Sara’s own night time activities, Sara wanted to spend some time more with her sister and for her to meet Leonard.

“I would love to meet her. She sure does sound great from everything I’ve heard from you.” Iris told her with a smile. She looked at her phone, seeing that it was time for Sara to go if she didn’t want to be late for her dinner. “I think you should go. We wouldn’t want your mystery boyfriend to wait.”

“Still giving me crap about that? Trust me you’re better off not knowing!” Sara teased her, even though she actually meant her words. Having Iris meet her convicted criminal boyfriend was something much more complicated. She already agreed to keep one of her secrets but knowing where a wanted criminal was... that was something else.  

“Have fun!” Iris said to the blonde who grabbed her bag.

“And you should call Detective Pretty Boy to keep you company!” Called out Sara as she walked out of the house and pulled on her cardigan; eager to meet Leonard.  

 “Thank you for dinner, Snart.” Sara told him as they walked side-by-side out of the restaurant. It was beginning to get really cold and Sara regretted not getting something more than a thin cardigan. The weather forecast hadn’t predicted any rain or snow until the next day but now the wind was increasing. She shivered and Leonard furrowed his eyebrows at her. He shrugged his suit jacket off and placed it on Sara’s shoulder. “And thank you for this too.”

“You’ll have to make it up to me then.” He drawled with a smirk and Sara felt herself stop walking and grabbing Leonard’s wrist; making him come to a halt too. “Sara?”

She smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. A couple of people had stopped and looked at them but at that hour most people liked to mind their own business. The two got lost in their kiss for as long as they could and suddenly they felt drops of rain falling on their heads. Leonard was the first one to pull away; his worried nature kicking in as he wanted Sara and him out of the mess of the rain that was quickly increasing.

Sara gave him a wicked smile and pulled him back; kissing him as the rain poured down on them and soaking their clothes. Leonard was hesitant at first, showing affection in public wasn’t his thing and making out on the rain was something he would never picture himself doing. Yet there he was, literally acting like a horny teenager and kissing his girlfriend- god it felt so weird even thinking about it, in the pouring rain and not caring.

“Sara… this is great, but do you want to go somewhere warmer?” Asked Leonard as he broke the kiss but still rested his palms on her cheeks.

“Your place or my place?” Sara answered and took Leonard’s hand as they walked towards the car, not caring about the rain anymore.

“Mick is home tonight and I want us to take our time.” He whispered in her ear and she smirked.

The rest of the night was a blur in the best way. Nothing could have ever prepared them for what their first time together would be and the unexpected rain somehow made everything even better. After arriving at Sara’s apartment and shedding their soaked clothes, they took their time exploring each other, mindful that Sara’s phone alert could ring any time with a new robbery or criminal activity.

*BUZZ*

*BUZZ*

*BUZZ*

“Please don’t tell me this isn’t what it think it is.” Leonard said as he took his head out of the covers, resting his elbows above each of Sara’s bare shoulders. She sighed and grabbed the phone, seeing that there was a robbery on progress on a jewellery store, which was thankfully very close to her house.

“To be continued.” She told him and gave him a soft kiss before sliding out of the bed and starting to put on her underwear and suit as fast as she humanly could. “Do you wanna join me?”

“I don’t have my cold gun with me so I don’t think I’ll be of any assistance. But I could do some shopping…” Leonard stated and Sara snorted as she grabbed her compressed bo-staff and adjusted it. “Don’t forget your knives.”

She gave him a wink and put a slim dagger on her boot.

“I’ll be quick. Keep my side warm.” Leonard watched as Sara ran out of the room and found himself smiling. It had been so long since he had been somewhat happy, if he ever had. And since meeting Sara his life was slowly falling into place. He began to think of a future with her, something that he had never thought about never. Never. It was kind of scary that Sara was beginning to stir these feelings inside of him, but he knew that something about her was different than anyone he had ever been with.

He spend the time Sara was gone with a quick trip to the convenience store and when Sara walked inside the apartment a little over 40 minutes later, Leonard was lying on the bed and had set up a tray with a tub of Mint Cookie Crunch and a tub of Flourless Chocolate Cake ice cream. He had even managed to get his hands on some strawberries and made that the ultimate cheat day… or night?

“Is my darling city safe?” Leonard teased her as she put her bo-staff back on its place and started undressing.

“I just got there before the police did so that’s gotta say something for the force. I see you did some shopping.” She noted and climbed underneath the warm covers, hoping that Leonard wouldn’t notice her few injuries right away. “And you remembered my favorite flavor.”

“Well you did make Mick buy you tubs of Mint Cookie Crunch every other day.” Observed Leonard and pulled the tray between them. He opened the tub and fixed Sara a bowl, finishing it off with a few strawberries and whipped cream.

“You’re trying to make me fat.” She accused him as she ate a spoonful of her delicious treat. “And it’s working.” Leonard smirked; putting ice cream in his own bowl and leaning back against the forehead.

“We can work it off later.” Sara didn’t say anything; she just continued to eat in silence, content. She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt content. She could lie and say she did with Nyssa but the truth was that what she felt was safety from the rest of the league. She didn’t know or have anyone and Nyssa gave her comfort and helped her in any way she could, but the person she was back then couldn’t feel what she was feeling at that moment and these months with Leonard.

“I want to make this work, Leonard.” She blurted out suddenly and Leonard raised his eyebrows. “I know I sound a little crazy but this… it’s new for me. I didn’t have eating ice cream in bed in Nanda Parbat or going on dinner dates.”

“Being a doting boyfriend isn’t exactly my scene either. I haven’t been in a relationship for god knows how long and I had shut off my emotions. But you came into my life and now I want to try to be better…” He put his hand above hers. “For you.”

“Leonard, if you want to be better, you should do it for you. Not me. I am an ex-assassin who killed thousands of people without blinking. I’m the last person to judge you for who you are. Just don’t steal my things.” Sara told him as Leonard pulled her in for a kiss and she smiled against his lips.  “Len.”

“I’m listening…” He mumbled as he stroked her shoulder.

“I told you that my sister will probably come here next week with Felicity.” He lifted his eyebrows; having an idea on where Sara was getting at. “I want you to meet her. If you want to of course.”

“Well you met my sister, literally within days of meeting me so I think it’s only fair to meet Laurel. I just hope that she doesn’t arrest me.” Sara laughed… even though she wouldn’t put it past her sister to threaten to arrest him.

“Relax, she won’t arrest you… I hope.” She said and he snorted. “Seriously though, she’ll see how much I like you and she’ll love you.”

“I guarantee you that. I’ll charm her with my socializing skills and knowledge of the law and she’ll forget that I am on the most wanted criminals in Central City in no time.” Leonard talked her and Sara threw a strawberry at him. Leonard didn’t miss a beat as he took the strawberry and dipped it in his ice cream before licking it and eating it slowly.

And just like that Sara put the tray on the floor and she wasn’t that tired anymore. She cherished these moments with Leonard and especially as he relaxed next to her and pulled her close. Sara felt content in his arms once again as she fell asleep soundly. She had begun to sleep much better with Leonard next to her and the nightmares hadn’t been bothering her as much as they did before. Now her dreams were filled with promises of the future and Leonard meeting her sister would just be the beginning.

And the future had never seemed brighter for her… and him… and her and him.

[latishiante1001]

Revenge (Part 1) (Will post this in 4 parts 2/4)

Rating: Mature Category: No Ship (Yet) Fandom: Supernatural Relationship: No Ship (Yet) Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Original Female Characters, Original Male Characters  Warnings: Adult Language Additional Tags: Hunting, A Form of Vampire Summary: Reader is hunting the vampire that killed her husband and runs into the boys. Of course Dean being Dean, he wants her. Word Count: 2996

PLEASE READ AUTHOR’S NOTES!! INCLUDES INFORMATION ABOUT THE READER’S BACKSTORY!!

A/N: Reader is a hunter that is hunting the vampire that killed her husband, Anthony. She finds all the information she can on all the creatures that she thought were myths at the beginning of her hunt. That was 2 years ago. Every time she gets close, the vampire and its pack disappears off the radar. ••• Takes place between the finale of S2 and first episode of S3 •••

Whole Thing here.

Revenge Masterlist here.

"So, who are we going to go talk to? The mother, father...?" You inquire. "Daughter," Sam answers, "Parents are already dead. The wife is away on business. She should be back by tomorrow. We'll talk to her then." You freeze. Daughter? "How old is the daughter?" "16." Sam answers. "Okay." You reply, trying to calm down. Poor girl, you think, losing her father at 16, practically being alone right now. You are too busy trying to calm down to notice Dean looking at you through the mirror with a concerned expression. Sam and Dean look at each other, seemingly having a whole conversation with one look. About 5 minutes later you are jerked out of your mind as the car stops. "Alright, we're here. Let's go." Dean says getting out of the car. You and Sam follow him out and start walking towards the building. "You good?" Dean asks you, quietly. "Yeah." You reply, not as convincing as you wanted. "Hi, we're FBI Agents Turner, Young, and Johnstone. We're here about the murder case with the victims completely drained of blood. We're here to talk to the daughter of the most recent victim." Dean tells Officer McCoy. "Alright but go easy on her, she's been through a lot. I doubt she will talk though. She's been silent. If you don't mind, it would be better if just two of you went in. Just so she isn't too overwhelmed." Officer McCoy told you three. "Alright, you two go. I'll go see the bodies," Sam tells you and Dean, looking at Officer McCoy for confirmation, continuing when she gives a nod, "Alright. See you later." "Alright. Officer Murray," Officer McCoy calls, proceeding when he looks at her, "Take these two to the room we have Haley Foster in." "Yes ma'am," Officer Murray says, "Follow me, please." You and Dean follow him down the hallways and stop at the door. "She's in here, Agents." Officer Murray tells you two. "Thanks, Officer." You tell him, following Dean into the room. "Hello, Haley. We're FBI Agents Turner and Johnstone. We're here to ask you a few questions about your father." Dean introduces, looking at the young, blonde teenager. "We are very sorry about your loss." You tell Haley. "Thank you." Haley says quietly, putting her head back down. "Do you want to tell us what you saw?" You ask, sitting down in front of her. Haley shakes her head 'no.' "Are you sure?" "You won't believe me." Haley says. "Haley," Dean says and Haley looks at him, "You can tell us what you saw. We'll believe you, no matter how crazy or weird it sounds." Haley sighs, "Ok. I was at home, watching TV on the couch and my dad was in the kitchen making us some popcorn when the door busts open. A person runs at me and I scream. My dad runs in and jumps at the thing on top of me. They fall on the floor and my dad yells at me to go upstairs to my room. I do what he says and I dial 911. Suddenly, it goes silent and I try calling out for my dad. He didn't," Haley sobs, "He didn't answer. I crept downstairs and I didn't see the intruder so I went around the couch and," Haley sobs again, "He was just laying there, looking at me. I froze, I wanted to call out for him but I couldn't. I wanted to go to him but I couldn't move my legs. He reached out for me and I finally ran over to him. I saw that there was a bite mark on his neck so I got a towel and tried to stop the bleeding but," Haley stops and starts crying. "Haley," You say, "Haley, look at me," She looks up at you, "We are going to get whoever did this. I promise you." You tell her, gently placing your hand on top of hers. "What made the bite mark on his neck? The cops keep saying it wasn't a bite mark, that it was from a knife or something. But I know what I saw. I know it sounds crazy and that you won't believe me," "Haley, " "that I'm crazy but-" "Haley," You say and she stops talking and looks at you, "We believe you. We actually believe you. We are not just saying that to shut you up, ok? We believe you. You know what you saw." "You- You believe me?" You nod, "Wow. Okay. So, I'm not going crazy?" "No," You chuckle, "You aren't going crazy, I promise." "Well, whatever did this, whoever did this, we're going to get them." Dean assures her, and you have a feeling he is talking to you too. "Alright, we gotta go but if you think of anything of importance, call us. No matter what time it is." Dean says handing her a card. "Oh! There is something real quick. That mark on his forehead, the ankh. I've seen it before." "What?! Where?!" You ask frantically, wondering how you didn't find it but she did, "Was it the exact ankh you saw on your father's forehead?!" "Yes and I am positive it is the exact ankh. I," Haley sighs, "My friend, Jade, showed me this website. It has to do with extremely weird people who have extremely weird piercings and tattoos and modifications. Basically, they wanted to be vampires and stuff like that. I swear, she did not do this. The person was too bulky and tall to be her. That ankh means vampires. A bunch of people who believe in vampires, and want to be one, have that tattoo. Please, I know it wasn't h-" A woman with blonde hair and a fancy outfit bust in and headed straight for Haley. The woman hugged her and kept saying 'I love you so much' and 'Are you okay?' and 'We'll get through this.' "Um, I'm fine mom, I love you too. Um, Agents, this is my mom." Haley says. "Hello, I'm Victoria. If you are done, I am taking my daughter with me to my sister's house." Victoria says, walking towards the door with Haley. "Um, Mrs. Foster, we still need to talk to your daughter." Dean says. "Why? She didn't do anything. She was as much a victim as her father. I'm taking her, now." Victoria says still walking towards the door. "Mrs. Foster, I know you and your daughter have been through a tragic time and I know you want to go and grieve, but we still need to talk to your daughter, please. Five minutes at most. I, too, have lost someone close to me in a tragic way and wanted to be with loved ones but I had to talk to the police as well. Mrs. Foster please. This could help us catch who killed your husband faster. Bring you at least a little bit of closure." You say as a last try. "Fine. Five minutes. Then I am taking her with me." Victoria says letting go of Haley and walking out of the door. "Wow. I'm impressed. Usually no one can convince her to do anything she doesn't want to do. I'm guessing you want to know where to find Jade so you can ask her more about the sign." Haley says and Dean nods his head, "Alright, she lives two houses down from me. Tell her I said I sent you and to actually cooperate or I will use the photos against her. She will most likely talk to you after that. She doesn't really like cops after they arrested her for a robbery she didn't commit because of the way she looked. Now, becuse of that she can't go to Yale." "Alright, thanks, Haley. Thank you for all of your help. Remember, call us if anything comes up or you need anything, alright?" You tell her. "You're welcome. Thank you for believing me. I hope you catch whoever did this." Haley says and walks out. She goes to her mother and leaves. "Alright. So, off to the friend?" You ask. "First, let's go see what Sam found." Dean says and leads the way out. You and Dean go down to the morgue and go up to Sam. "Hey, so Haley told us that the symbol meant vampires. Basically, everyone who believes in vampires, or wanted to be a vampire, had this mark tattooed on their body. Her friend, Jade, showed it to her because her friend is apparently into this stuff but not so much that she was one of the people who had this tattoo. When we are done here, we should probably go talk to her." You explain. "Alright. So get this, as you can clearly see, the rest of the victims were young, blonde girls except for Edward Foster. So, I was thinking that maybe..." Sam starts. "The vamp was going for Haley, who is young and blonde, but when Edward came to attack him and Haley went upstairs, the vamp decides to just take him and leave Haley." You finish and Sam nods, "But why not take both? I mean if it could take Edward then taking down Haley would be a piece of cake." "I don't know, but we'll find out. Alright, let's go and talk to the friend," "Jade." You inform, "Yeah Jade. See what she knows." Dean says. "You two can go talk to her. I'm gonna go back to the motel to do some research." Sam says. "Alright, we'll drop you off on the way." Dean tells him, turning towards the door. You and Sam follow him out the door and outside to the car. You and Dean drop Sam off at the motel and drive over to Jade's house. When the two of you get up to the door, Dean knocks on the door. A minute later, a teenage girl with black, purple, and blue hair wearing all black clothing opens the door. "Who are you?" She says. "Are you Jade?" Dean asks. She nods. "We're FBI Agents Turner and Johnstone. We're here to ask you about the Foster family and a certain ankh." "What? I-I didn't do anything wrong, I swear. Please don't arrest me and take me to jail." Jade says, panicking. "Hey, hey. It's okay. We're here to talk to you, that's it. We're not here to arrest you. I promise." You assure, calmly. "Okay, sorry. I just-" Jade starts. "...got arrested for something you didn't do and don't like cops. We know. Haley told us you wouldn't like us because of that. But I promise that we aren't here to arrest you. May we come in?" You finish. "Yeah." Jade says, backing up and opening the door wider. "Thanks. So Jade, we'll just get right to the point. Have you seen this exact ankh before?" Dean asks, showing Jade the picture. "Yeah. People who are obsessed with real vampires have that tattooed on themselves because they think it will make them one in the afterlife. Not the Twilight vampires or any stereotypical vampires with 2 fangs. They say that these ones have a mouthful of sharp teeth that are kept in their gums when not being used. Also, they sometimes keep-" Jade explains before being interrupted by Dean. "Whoa, whoa. How do you know all this?" He asks. "Well, I've done research on the ankh, I've looked at stuff about this online, old folklore and stuff like this. Why?" Jade gasps, "Is it real?! Is it?! Is it?! Is it?! That would be so cool! Well not for the victims or the people who become a packs' blood slave. But it would be kind of cool." "No, it wouldn't. A lot of people would die, a lot of good people! You wouldn't even be able to go out at night! Or maybe not at all without wondering if you would be attacked and had all the blood sucked out of your body!" "Dean," you try. "What would you think if you suddenly lost someone you loved to a vampire?" "Dean," you try again. "What if you go out for a walk or you're walking home and suddenly there is a bloodsucking monster grabbing you, putting his hand over your mouth, and biting you on your neck?! Would it be cool then?!" "DEAN!" You yell. "What?!" He yells back, angrily. "Go outside and come back in when you're calm again!" You tell him. He looks at you for a few seconds before grunting and going out the door. "What was that about?" Jade asks. "Just a small rage burst. He's had a rough few days. Sorry about that. So about the Foster's..." You explain. ~~~~ About 10 minutes later ~~~~ You walk out of the door and to the car, seeing Dean sitting in the car. You get in and sit there for a minute. "What was that?" You ask, quietly. "She thought that it would be 'cool' if those type of vampires existed. They are not 'cool!' They are extremely dangerous to people if you don't know how to deal with them! They-" "Stop! I fucking know that they are dangerous! Did you just happen to forget who you're talking to?! What happened to me?! If you did, I'm so fucking surprised that you're a hunter! Or actually, that you are still alive! All I wanted to say was, yes, you're right. She shouldn't have thought that it would be cool for those vampires to exist. But that doesn't give you the right to yell at her, telling her that people she loved would die because of them, that she would die because of them! You could have easily left it at people dying. She would have figured out that it meant her as well. Let's just go." You finish ranting, crossing your arms over your chest, watching your hands. It takes a minute but what Dean says next, surprises you. "You're right." Dean says and you look at him, surprised. "I just lost it. I shouldn't have yelled at her. I should have just left it alone. I guess seeing someone that actually likes vampires, made me flip out. I'm okay with the typical Twilight or movie vampires but these. I don't know what happened. That's never happened before. Well, in a long time. And never to a teenager, just adults. Alright, let's go and find out what Sam found out. " Dean finishes, starting the car. "Okay then, now that that's settled, while I was in there, she gave me all the websites, names of books and other stuff she found information about vampires on." You explain. "We'll have Sam look at those when we get back." "Why can't we do it? Why does Sam have to do all the research? Do you not do research?" You ask, confused. "You can, I'm not gonna. It's not my thing." Dean answers. "Then what do you usually do while Sam is researching?" "Talk to more witnesses, family, locals. See if anything's happened that usually happens when there is a pack in the area and ask questions about the victim. What, did you used to do research and hunt all by yourself?" "Well, sort of. I have friends that can give me the information I needed and if they couldn't because, let's say, needed a book. And the libraries near them didn't have it. They would tell me the name and I would see if the book was where I was and do the research myself." "You have a lot of skilled friends, don't you?" "Yeah. They help me because every single one of them wants whoever, or whatever, killed Anthony, dead. Even if they aren't a major friend, like just an acquaintance or something. They think that he didn't deserve to die and that I didn't deserve to lose him. They want to help me hunt it, in the field, but I won't let them get killed as well." "Good and bad decision. Good, because you don't want them to die. But bad because what if you get killed? You don't really have anyone backing you up." "I won't die. Trust me. I probably rank above you and Sam. I-" "Woah, woah. That's a pretty big 'probably.' Above me and Sam? You're that good?" Dean asks, disbelievingly. "Yeah. Why is it so surprising to you? I swear if it's because I'm a girl, I will-" "No! No, that is not the reason at all! It's just, you only started hunting 2 years ago." "And? How do you know that I wasn't doing anything before I started hunting that involved extreme strength, speed, and fighting in general?" You defend, looking at Dean. "I don't! It's just kind of surprising, that's it. I wasn't trying to offend you in anyway, I promise." "Sorry, it's just. I've met a lot of hunters, or actually men in general, that couldn't believe that I was better than them. Until they asked to fight me. Then they learned their lesson. I'd say that I have made way more than half of them cry, a lot." "It's fine. It can be tough to be a hunter, especially if they are female hunters. Nice job, though, setting those jerks straight." Dean says, raising his hand for a high-five. "Uh. Kinda can't give you a high five." You say, showing him your hands. "Right. Nice job." Dean chuckles before tapping your shoulder. Dean turns the music on and Old Time Rock & Roll by Bob Seger comes on. "Yes! This is my song! Turn it up please." You say, grinning. Dean turns it up and looks at you, fondly, as you start singing the words while looking out the window. Dean starts to have some unexpected feelings that he has rarely felt for you. A little something called, love. He looks back at the road, listening to you sing, glancing your way every now and then for the rest of the ride back to the motel.

Tags are OPEN!!

[ghozt1ng-blog]

Mysteries of the Q Files

Chapter 4: Arriving

The trick had been for Trick to play on Naomi’s sensibilities. Once he knew that she favored brains over brawn, he only had to speak about uncovering whether or not the impossible was actually possible. Could there be such things as werewolves? She had opened up about everything she knew about ancient lore on werewolves, including the fun fact that Odysseus from greek myth supposed to be descended from werewolves, which was supposedly what made him super smart in the first place.

She is a mega bookworm, too, apparently, Trick thought with amusement.

Naomi had said that it was remarkable that cultures all over the world had legends about intelligent wolves or men becoming wolves. She figured that was because wolves played such a major role as a threat to pastoral and hunting communities. Also, dogs and wolves are incredibly intelligent and when men became more bestial, a good likeness was to compare them to a wolf. While this was all fascinating and whatnot for Trick, the big prize was getting them out to Hardinsburg.

Towards that end, he played on the question that it was weird that this would be the first “credible” sighting of werewolf in a long time. The Q Files, while ridiculous in concept, was actually very practical in execution. The Sphinx did not raise Trick’s mother and Agent Miles out of the office just to chase fancies, whatever else the other other agents might say. If Agent Conturbatio thought that this was a case worthy of leaving Washington for, it most likely had some real credibility as a case. If that were the case, wouldn’t naomi want to be there to see these claims either confirmed or debunked.

“That would be really cool and educational,” Naomi had conceded. “But this does not convince me that we should just pack up and leave without our parents knowing and get involved in a potentially dangerous case.”

Those were the words Trick had wanted to hear. So long as he knew that she was willing to give, he knew he could win her over. But why do I want her to come? Trick had asked himself. He had figured it was because she appeared to be the package deal as far as adventuring companions went. You didn’t get an athletic build by not trying; Naomi was probably pretty strong and capable. She was also very intelligent. Combine that with his knowledge of teenagers, and he thought that they could infiltrate the school and get some nuggets of important information from the other students.

He had reasoned this to her, “Look, the police are only letting the FBI in on the case, because they are stumped! The FBI will have greater access to technological resources. I think they will be able to confirm that ‘yes, this is a monster!’ But other than that, it could take them weeks or months, if ever, to determine who actually took the girl. Who knows who else could be attacked in the meantime? The kids will be scared and they won’t open up to adults. But they will talk with other teenagers. My guess is that the girl-”

“Samantha Haymore,” Naomi had interjected.

“Yes, Sam,” Trick breezed on, “She most likely knew her attacker. In a small town everyone knows everyone!”

“What makes you think it’s a small town?”

“Ever heard of Hardinsburg, Kentucky before?”

“No,” Naomi had answered with a frown.

“Exactly! Guaranteed backwater part of the state,” Trick had said with a wave of the hand. “The important thing is the makeup of the town and its social structures. Those structures will be played out to the max at the local high school. This means that there is a wealth of helpful gossip and knowledge among the students. We just have to get it out of them, and we can then pass on the information to the FBI.”

��And they can’t get it themselves because they are adults, right,” Naomi had then confirmed.

“Yes. But you and I can blend in.”

“In a small town,” she had laughed skeptically.

“All it takes are some reasonably fake names and a poker face, and total strangers will lap up just about anything you say,” Trick had maintained.

“Okay, you might be right about all of that, but then how are we supposed to get there?”

“That’s simple, really. We take the second most available flight out of here towards Kentucky and then we grab a bus. Both of them will be modes of transportation, both in style and in timing, that the agents will not suspect that we’d use them. Not even my mom,” Trick had added gleefully. “And I can pay, too! I work for my uncle at a farm out of state over the summer breaks, and he pays me good money. Plus, a key to concocting great pranks is to keep them cheap and manageable. So, with all of my summer earning and saved up allowance,we can afford the trip!”

Naomi had given the beaming Trick a flat stare and asked, “Your parents still give a troublemaker like yourself an allowance?”

“Yup! My dad is impressed with my savings, and he thinks it keeps me somewhat responsible.”

“Your dad is a moron,” Naomi had summed up.

“Maybe so,” Trick had agreed. “But his odd tendencies are about to pay off! What do you say?”

Naomi had still not given in entirely to the idea. She looked willing, but there was something warring inside her. Trick wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but he needed a partner in crime, and so he took a big gamble with his next words.  

“Look Naomi, you know a lot of things and I bet you are very accomplished. But life is not just meant to be lived out in a room crammed with fun things or in front of a computer screen. It’s out there!” Trick gestured vaguely in front of himself. “We all need an adventure once in while, otherwise we never truly live. I know we just met and all, but this could be an experience unlike any other. It might be one that you could use to find that answer for your mom. I can’t guarantee that, of course, but you’ll never know and you’ll never live if you don’t try!”

After a long pause, and Trick worrying that he might have overdone it, Naomi finally responded, “You are right Trick, in a very odd way you are right. “ She had then rounded on him. “But don’t ever again dine to believe that you really know anything about me! Especially since we just met! But I’ll come along with you on this adventure of yours, this stupid idea of an adventure. I have four days to kill and it might just give me a laugh at the very least, and get my mom out of my hair.”

“So you’ll be able to ditch your mom pretty handily? I know that as far as my dad is concerned, if I say that I am going to be hanging out a friend’s in the evening, he’ll believe it. He’s so scattered brained most of the time!”

Naomi grunted, “Yes. I get such good grades that no one cares if I skip home or classes. My mom’s counselor told her long ago that she needed to stop being a control freak and let people do what they want. She took that to heart in maybe the wrong way. But it’ll be just fine, so long as we are back in four days!”

Trick had nodded happily. “Sure thing! What’s happening in four days though.”

“Midterms.”

Trick had winced. “I hate those.”

Naomi had then raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? They are the best thing ever for preparing for finals! They always give away what it will be like at the end of the semester. And I always get my teachers to give me the extra hard versions. It’s a lot of fun.”

You need a different kind of fun in your life, Trick thought to himself, but instead he said out loud, “This will be perfect then! And, we can actually get well acquainted on this trip so i won’t have to assume anything about you anymore. I think it’s a win-win all around.”

They had exchanged contact information and Trick dropped her off where the computer labs were. He then made his way back to the Q Files, cementing his plans firmly in his mind. It had not taken long for his mother to bring him back home and get packed herself. Trick promised that he would tell his father what was going on before Susan left for the airport. He had then texted his dad the details and then went straight to booking his own flight and getting the bus schedules down to get him and Naomi to Hardinsburg.

Trick could have danced around the house with excitement. What had started off as an abysmally boring day had turned into a real adventure. It would be one with a new friend, going somewhere new, tracking down something that shouldn’t exist, and finally using his skills on a new group of unsuspecting teens. He could barely wait to get underway. His father had bought the whole cock and bull story of going to hang out with a friend for a little while so that his dad could bring work home and get ahead. His dad always loved that. Honestly, Trick’s father did that so he could have a real vacation at some point with his wife and son. Trick did appreciate that, but it was even better for supporting Trick’s habits of planning big pranks and escapades.

Naomi and Trick had stayed in touch via text and before Trick could believe it they were finally at the airport and boarding a plane. He got the feeling that some people thought the two of them were off on some kind of romantic getaway. Young love and all that.

Ew, no. None of that, Trick thought. He was not that kind of guy at all.

Once they were in the air Trick talked with Naomi about her life and ambitions, trying to get a better understanding of her. She went to a private technical institution that specialized in giving its student two legs up in going to college. Naomi was well ahead of anyone else Trick knew in terms of academics. She also loved to read when not fidgeting and tinkering with a computer. Once again, Trick had surmised some things. He figured from her body type that she probably listened to a lot of e-books since she seemed built like a runner. The advantages of multi-tasking!

Naomi also gleaned from him that Trick was not dumb either, though employed most of his brains to tormenting others. He was actually a top student as far as grades went, and he was very good with complex thinking. Though she could not understand the “game” he kept playing. He told her about how he just so good at reading people it got boring. He was wise to lie and say that Naomi had been unreadable to him. That made her pretty happy.

It startle him to realize that both Naomi and himself were kind of outsiders. She was too brilliant and detached for her own good. Trick had just made himself too many enemies and was considered to be untrustworthy. That was why he was excited to get involved in this Q Files case. Once they landed they boarded a bus, and soon their miraculous plan was underway. They took a rest on the bus before they got to the town, knowing that there would be a lot to do once they got there.

When they arrived at Hardinsburg, Trick was surprised at just how behind the town was. It felt like he had stepped back at least thirty years in time. The cars were all old and the town looked like it had been used to shoot Stranger Things. They got themselves a hotel room for cheap and shared the bed with a rolled up blanket to separate them. He was happy that Naomi didn’t make him sleep on the floor. They were up bright and early to go to school and get started with their day of sleuthing.

“This is so weird,” Naomi said. “But it is also exciting! We’d better find something out around here, Trick, or I’m going to knock you about the head hard.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be bad. We’ll find something,” he soothed.

If Trick thought that the town was weird, the teens were even more so! In the morning he saw the boys sporting their lettered jock jackets. And everyone looked like they were just stepping out of or into Footloose.

“What!? People actually wear those things,” Trick pointed out the jackets to Naomi indignantly.

“Oh just shut up and follow them! We have to get to school.”

“Right,” Trick agreed, a grin coming to his lips. “This is where the fun truly begins!”