#uh yeah inspiration struck me and boom

[polar-equinoxx]

death of the star.

[crazy4dragons]

Fifteen (Part 1)

Hiccup struggles to come up with the perfect gift for Astrid’s fifteenth birthday. Hiccup-centric for now, with a bit of subtle Hiccstrid coming in Part 2. Rating: G. Prompt sent by @drakaina-amore64 (thank you!).

Hiccup sighed as he glanced at the collection of half-finished projects around him. Astrid’s fifteenth birthday was in a week, and he still had nothing good enough to give her. Or so it seemed that he didn’t.

A Viking’s fifteenth birthday was a big deal. Fifteen was the year children were finally allowed to take the lead on patrols, participate in battle, and most importantly, learn to fight dragons. For those reasons, fifteenth birthdays weren’t just a family affair—the whole island celebrated them.

And Astrid’s fifteenth birthday was an especially big deal, at least to Hiccup. She’d been his best friend growing up. With his mother gone, he often ended up staying with either the Jorgensons or the Hoffersons when Stoick was away and Gobber was busy running the island. On the weekends Hiccup spent with the Hoffersons, he and Astrid would play all day, then innocently cuddle up together for bed to help calm her fear of the dark, and his fear that a dragon would crash through the walls and eat them both alive.

They hadn’t been close like that in years; not since Astrid started basic battle training at eight years old and slowly latched onto a new group of friends. The last time they’d hung out was at Hiccup’s tenth birthday party, and he suspected that was only because Astrid’s parents made her go, just to be polite.

Gods, he missed the days when they were friends, always laughing and making up stories about defeating dragons together. Maybe if they were still close, he wouldn’t be having such a hard time thinking of a gift for her.

“Axe? She has one already,” he mumbled. “Mace? Has it. Sword? Has that, too.” He gathered the partially-finished weapons and put them in a box.

“What are ye working on, lad?”

Hiccup turned to see Gobber entering the forge. “Oh, nothing. Just uh…brainstorming some gifts for Astrid’s birthday.”

“Oh, I see. What ideas do ye have?” Gobber hobbled over to his desk and grabbed a piece of metal.

“I thought about an axe, or a mace, or a sword, some kind of weapon,” Hiccup began. “But I can’t seem to come up with anything she doesn’t already own.”

“Ye know, Hiccup, a Viking can niver have too many weapons.”

Sighing, the boy ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Yeah, yeah, but I just thought I could do something different. Maybe even something special.”

“Aye, I see.” Gobber raised an eyebrow. “Ye like her.”

A light blush covered Hiccup’s cheeks. “Well, uh…I…” he stammered. He’d always liked Astrid, but now that she was slowly transforming into a fiercely beautiful young woman, he couldn’t help but like her, like her.

“Ye don’t need to hide it, lad. I ain’t gonna tell anyone, ‘cept maybe yer father,” laughed Gobber. “Ye know, in a few years, yer gonna have to start settling down, anyway. And Astrid is just the kind o’ strong lass who could give ye a nice, strong heir.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, an heir,” he mumbled. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be the heir, let alone father the next one. He also wasn’t sure he could even find anyone desperate enough to birth his heir. Yes, he was the next in line for Chief, but there were other more attractive, more successful men from neighboring islands who would offer the same social status—plus the added advantage of a tribal alliance.

“It’s gotta happen someday, Hiccup,” Gobber said cheerfully. “Yer father’s not goin’ to be around forever, and—”

Before he could finish, Hiccup was gone. He needed to focus on Astrid’s gift, not becoming Chief, and if he was being quite honest, he was rather tired of everyone talking about it. And by everyone, he meant Stoick and Gobber.

As he trudged home, Hiccup made a mental list in his head of everything he thought Astrid might need, only to cross off all of it by the time he walked through the door. Not only did she already have every weapon he could imagine, she also owned more than enough armor and other battle accessories. Clothes were always practical, and he could easily sew some leggings or knit a pair of cozy socks, but giving Astrid clothing seemed a little too intimate, even if it was just leggings and socks.

Not feeling up to waiting for Stoick to arrive, Hiccup cooked and ate dinner alone, then took his evening bath and headed to his room. Finding a piece of charcoal, he grabbed his sketchbook and opened it to a blank page. He always drew before bed, but this time, he was on a mission to draw until struck by inspiration for Astrid’s gift.

He began by sketching a portrait of her, paying special attention to her big blue eyes and toned muscles. As she grew up, her eyes were gradually losing their glow from childhood, instead becoming fierce and icy. However, Hiccup still thought they were gorgeous. And her muscles he both admired and envied. Gods, she would never feel attracted to him the same way he felt attracted to her, not with his delicate body.

A talking fishbone, that’s what Stoick called him.

Sighing, he put down his charcoal and flipped through his finished drawings, hoping that ideas for his next sketch of the night would come to him.

“I’m home, son!”

Stoick’s booming voice shook Hiccup out of his thoughts. “I’m busy, Dad!” he called, turning another page of his sketchbook. It landed on an image of a Deadly Nadder, Astrid’s favorite dragon. When they were little, she’d always talked about them. She even had a plush one that she took to bed each night, thinking it would protect her from fiercer, scarier dragons, like Night Furies and Monstrous Nightmares.

It was then that it hit him. He would make Astrid her own book, filled with drawings of all the things she’d loved growing up, from the stream they used to swim in together, to the axe her parents gave her for Snoggletog a few years ago, to the little plush Nadder he was almost certain she still kept in her room.

“Are ye so busy ye can’t clean up after yerself?” Stoick bellowed from downstairs.

Hiccup groaned as he remembered that, in his preoccupation with Astrid’s gift, he’d left his dishes on the kitchen table. He knew that if he left his room, he’d end up getting caught in an unwanted conversation with his father, and that definitely wasn’t what he wanted, not with all the drawing he needed to do in order to finish his project on time.

“Hiccup? Do ye hear me?” Stoick prompted.

“Coming, Dad,” the boy said, half-mumbling.

“I don’t know why yer always hiding out in yer room,” the chief remarked as Hiccup descended the stairs. “Can’t a son spend time with his father?”

Hiccup sighed. “Well, Dad, if you must know, I’m uh…I’m working on a birthday gift for Astrid.” He blushed while saying her name.

“Trying to impress her, eh?” Stoick raised an eyebrow.

“No! Of course not. I just…we used to be friends, and I want to do something nice for her.”

“Mmm-hmm. I see how ye look at ‘er.”

Hiccup covered his face in embarrassment. “Dad!”

“Remember, Hiccup, nothing happens on this island without me hearing about it.”

“Sure,” the boy sighed, shuffling to the table and grabbing his dishes. After washing them, he quietly slipped back upstairs before Stoick, who was preoccupied with warming his dinner, noticed he was gone.

“Alright,” he said aloud to himself. “Let’s get these drawings started.”

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Those Who Fall: "APTF" Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Thirty-Eight:

Being reassured by his husband, Steve left for home a little more at ease. With the kids in better moods, Steve was able to enjoy the drive home. Especially when Bucky sent a cheeky message about wanting Steve to wear his costume in the bedroom tonight.

Steve rolled his eyes, but the smirk stayed on his face as he ushered the kids into the house. Following them up to the main floor of the house. Only pausing when he saw Vis dancing with Holly. Bouncing her and swaying to the beat of Cliff Richard's Devil Woman. For a moment, Steve just stood there observing the younger man.

Until Vis caught him looking and paused. Instantly, his cheeks turned crimson. Before he could say anything, Steve said, "For someone who isn't sure he'll be a good father, you seem pretty comfortable."

Averting his gaze, Vis looked down at Holly and admitted, "It's easier when I don't have to convince anyone else."

"You don't have to convince anyone," Steve assured, "But I can tell that you're going to be a good dad."

"Takes one to know one," Wanda smiled, entering the living room with a bottle for Holly.

Smiling, Steve nodded, but averted his gaze to the floor. With Brock being so close to his family, he didn't feel like a good dad. A good dad would know how to protect his family. A good dad wouldn't feel so weak. A good --

"Papasaurus!" Jonas's loud voice boomed from the front door.

Turning to see his oldest son walking into the foyer. Theatrically, he had a cape brought up to only have his eyes revealed. Wiggling his eyebrows, he came up to Steve and asked, "Is that sugar cookies I smell?"

"It might be," Steve quirked a brow.

Dropping the cape, the rest of Jonas's costume was revealed. Wearing a white basketball uniform covered in fake blood. Which, admittedly stumped Steve. Not in the right head space, Steve tried to piece it together. A vampire costume, with plastic teeth and blood dribbled on the corner of his plush bottom lip, mixed with a basketball player.

"What are you supposed to be?" Steve finally caved, crossing his arms.

Jonas fixed his flat top hairstyle and explained, "Count Jock-ula! Get it?"

"You're clever," Steve chuckled. Meeting the older teen halfway, Steve pulled him in for a tight hug. Lingering in the hug for a moment longer than usual. Thankfully, Jonas just held him. Even without knowing why Steve needed the longer hug, Jonas kept the embrace. Giving the best bear hug to boot.

After another moment, Steve peeked around Jonas's larger frame and spotted Katie. Looking over her bloody white dress and plastic axe, Steve's brows furrowed, "What are you supposed to be?"

Katie bit back her grin, "An axe wife. Inspired by The Great Cady Heron, but more punny."

"Of course," Steve playfully shook his head as he left Jonas's embrace for Katie's. Lingering just as long with her as he did with her brother as he complimented her, "Always so creative."

When they pulled apart, Steve caught Katie childishly sticking her tongue out at Jonas. Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and tenderly slapped her stomach with the back of his hand. Feigning pain, Katie doubled over so she could gather Ethan and pick him up. All the while, Ethan giggled and squealed when Katie started tickling him. Then, Sophia jumped in to help her brother, which meant Katie tickling both of them.

Steve smiled when he watched the interaction before the thought of Brock came to ruin it all. And, of course, one of the kids were bound to notice the way Steve held himself and the way he averted his gaze to the floor. It just extra sucked when the kid who noticed was Jonas.

"Wait," Jonas put a pause on the jovial laughter. Crossing his arms, his brows furrowed as he asked, "Was today a half day?"

"Not necessarily," Steve sheepishly answered. When Jonas's brows furrowed, Steve decided that he needed to tell them. Especially since Steve didn't know what Brock was capable of. So, he asked the little kids, "How about you go play in your rooms for a bit, yeah?"

"Awe, papa," Ethan whined while Sophia pouted, "Do we have to?"

"Just for a little bit," Steve promised.

Reluctantly, the younger kids headed upstairs. Steve made sure to listen for their footsteps. When they were significantly further away, Steve took a seat on the floral loveseat. Resting his elbows on his thighs as he held his face in his hands. Trying to find a way to explain the day to his children.

Fuck, Steve chastised himself because they weren't ever supposed to worry about this stuff. Hell, Steve wasn't supposed to still be worrying about this. It was supposed to stay in the past. Brock was supposed to stay in the past.

"I, uh…" Steve scrubbed his hand over his face. Sighing, "There's this… man�� who used to stalk me in college. And he's back."

"Does dad know?" Jonas instantly asked.

"Dad knows," Steve confirmed, looking at each of the teens. "But that's why I pulled the kids out of school. Well, that and the fact that Ethan got into a fight with this man's stepson."

"That's how you know he's back? Because his brat is a bully?" Katie questioned, her brow set in a deep furrow.

"Did he do something?" Wanda asked, anger flaring through her petite frame as she stroked over her abdomen.

Beside her, Vis offered, "I know a guy that could… take care of him. If you know what I mean."

Chuckling at the outlandish sentiment and oddly touched, Steve declined, "That's okay. I'm just going to have to get another protective order against him and hope that he doesn't pick his stepson up at school anymore."

"Steve, no offense," Wanda looked down at her hands, "But a piece of paper isn't going to do anything."

"She's right," Katie nodded, "My aunt had plenty of them against her ex-husband, and that didn't stop him from murdering her."

That struck Steve to his core. Brock wouldn't go to that extreme, right? After all, Brock was remarried and had been in New York for god only knew how long, and he hadn't stumbled upon Steve. Hadn't even known that Steve and Bucky had gotten married. Or at least, that was what it seemed.

Trying to calm himself and the teens, Steve ran his hand through his hair and assured them, "He's not going to do that. He… he wouldn't do that. He's not… dangerous."

"But he was dangerous enough to get a protective order against him?" Vis asked, his brows furrowing.

Leaning forward as he rested his arms on his thighs, Jonas questioned, "Do you want us to help keep the kids home? Instead of us all going trick-or-treating?"

Worrying his lower lip, Steve wondered if they should stay home. Wondered if he and Bucky should stay home. Sure, they went to Natasha's Halloween party every year. But Brock was back in town and he didn't want to spend the whole night worrying. Of course, he also knew that he shouldn't spend the rest of his life afraid. Especially not when they had kids to love and care for.

"No, trick-or-treating should be fine," Steve answered, trying not to focus on any of the negative scenarios that raced through his mind. After all, Bucky was going to be there. Bucky would make sure that he was safe. That they were all safe.

Looking over the teens, Steve noticed how concerned they each looked and felt like kicking himself. "But we'll be okay. I promise. Nothing will happen to you guys. Dad and I have everything under control."

Rolling his eyes, Jonas scoffed, "You don't gotta lie to us. We're not kids."

"You're my kids," Steve corrected, reaching over to give Jonas's broad shoulder a comforting squeeze. To lighten the mood, Steve added, "And you know how terrible of a liar I am."

"Yeah, you're right," Jonas chuckled, looking over at Steve and giving him a small smile. As Steve returned the smile, Jonas added, "But if I need to gather the lacrosse team, I will."

Chuckling under his breath, Steve said, "Thank you," and he meant it.

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Quetzal woman: the movie

(Pt. 1)

For ages, humanity depended upon the gods to provide, care for, and guide them. How the gods viewed humanity varied greatly. Some saw humans as pawns, and that their rightful place was under their boot. Other gods cared greatly for humanity, they found joy in helping them. Eventually tho, humanity gained independence from the gods. They developed technology and sciences that lead them to no longer have need for the gods. Many gods hated this, seeing this as the ultimate blasphemy. But others still, found joy in their newfound independence, tho were sorrowful at no longer being needed. Regardless of the feelings, it could not be avoided that the gods were no longer needed, and so the gods shut themselves away, as to not interfere. Even in times where humanity seemed to need their protection again, they would not interfere. Or atleast that's how it should've been...

The mesoamerican goddess, Quetzalcoatl, watched upon the humanity she cherished so much, as they marched onward without her. But in recent times, it seemed like they may have needed her guidance once again.

Quetz: ...humanity is not doing well. Starvation, war, the changing of the climate, corruption, and so on. Many humans have the resources to change it all singlehandedly, but choose not to in favor of hoarding said resources greedily. They need our guidance once more...

Then a mysterious voice spoke up, it was not clear who they were, but what was clear was that they were powerful. More so then even Quetzalcoatl.

Voice: we are not to interfere Quetzalcoatl. Even in their darkest moments, we are to no longer meddle their affairs.

Quetz: they clearly need it!

Voice: you said it yourself, they have the resources to help themselves. Even if those resources are currently in the hands of greedy and selfish individuals, things will eventually take a turn for the better. It has happened before and it shall happen again.

Quetz: I understand what you mean... I'd love for humanity to overcome this hurdle, and reach great new heights. But... they are currently lost. Even a nudge in the right direction would be enough.

Voice: interference is interference. No matter how small.

Quetz: *sigh*

As this went on, Quetzalcoatl noticed something specific in the tropics, near the Caribbean. A lone young man, on an isolated beach, was being attacked by creatures who should no longer have a place without the gods.

Quetz: look upon that island!

Voice: hmm?

The young man was being attacked by sirens. Horrid bird like beasts, that were long lost once the Greek pantheon was no longer needed by their people.

Voice: what!? Sirens?!

Quetz: that young man is being attacked by them! Now can I interfere?!

Voice: hmmm... fine. But this is only because it would seem the Greek pantheon is interfering in mortal affairs themselves. It was only a matter of time.

Quetz: yes!!

Voice: but before you go, make sure they longer interfere in mortal affairs! No matter how long it takes, but once it's done return to the heavens at once. You understand?

Quetz: of course!

Voice: then go! He doesn't have much time!

The the sun goddess left, and went to save the young man.

At the beach.

???: wtf are these things?! Some kind of bird monsters?!

Sirens: *horrendous screeching*

???: I should've brought backup, I'm fucked now since I'm alone!

Then suddenly, a large storm appeared overhead. Lightning struck and thunder roared!

???: wtf!?

Then a huge fireball flew from the clouds, striking the earth near the sirens. The impact left the beasts flying, even injuring them.

???: holy fuck...

The sirens weren't done yet, but they focused their attention on the impact sight instead.

Then, arising from the impact, was Quetzalcoatl.

???: woah... she's... beautiful...

The sirens immediately went to attack her, but were met with tremendous force. Powerful flame attacks, along with lightning and wind aswell. She was a force to be reckoned with.

After the beasts were taken care of, the goddess went over to the young man and offered her hand to get him off the ground.

Quetz: are you ok?

???: yeah... I am now. Are you... a goddess?

Quetz: si, actually. I am!

???: oh... wait! For real?!

Quetz: si! I am the goddess Quetzalcoatl!

???: well... if it wasn't for the lightshow and that monster beat down I wouldn't believe you... that was amazing...

Quetz: gracias! Now I've told you my name, what's yours?

???: oh! Right, my name's Rex! Nice to meet you... Quetzalcoatl...

Quetz: you can just say Quetz, and nice to meet you too Rex!

Rex: Quetz huh...?

Rex: wait a minute, if you're real then, how come we don't hear about you and the rest of the pantheon anymore?

Quetz: because humanity no longer needs gods. So we shut ourselves away. The only interaction anymore is once a human goes to the afterlife.

Rex: oh... I mean, I'm not one to question the choices of gods but... sometimes it feels like we could still use a bit of help...

Quetz: I agree actually, but we aren't supposed to interfere anymore. The only reason I can now, is because it seems others have decided to interfere themselves.

Rex: ah... explains the... birds.

Quetz: right, I need to find out whose involved and put a stop to it, then return.

Rex: oh... how do you plan on doing that?

Quetz: well... I planned to blend in with humanity for the most part, until I can find whoever is responsible.

Rex: oh! OK.

Quetz: um... but I'll need some help doing that... I don't exactly have access to normal human things...

Rex: I can lend a hand...

Quetz: oh really?! I mean, I don't want to impose.

Rex: I insist, you literally saved my life. And you're a literal goddess! It'd feel wrong not to help!

Quetz: gracias! That's so nice!

Rex: of course!

Eventually the two leave for Rex's current living space on the island.

Rex: make yourself at home! It's not much but it'll do...

Quetz: oh... it's not so bad.

Rex: gracias! So... any idea how you're going to start looking for whoever caused those... things to show up?

Quetz: well... the only surefire way is to look out for other signs of divinity. Creatures such as those are a pretty good sign. But I'm note sure where else they'll show up...

Rex: there's also the fact that you can't just bust in and kick their asses like that so easily. It was whatever last time because there were no witnesses other then me but... it'll be crazy to see a woman just... do those things!

Quetz: that's a good point... how do I handle that?

Rex wasn't sure, but then he looked over at a shelf of books nearby, and inspiration struck!

Rex: hold on

Quetz: ok...

Rex went over to the shelf and picked up a comic book, then showed it to the goddess.

Rex: you could be a superhero!

Quetz: eh...? Ques eso?

Rex: these heroes with amazing abilities and colorful costumes! They protect people for good and righteousness and such!

Quetz: oh! That'd be amazing! That's exactly why I'm here so it fits!

Rex: yeah! But we need to make a costume...

Quetz: hmmm...

Rex: oh! I know, back to our homeland! Kinda...

Quetz: eh?

Rex: it's been a while for you, but the people of Mexico have invented a new type of fighting style called lucha libre, it fits the superhero image perfectly! They wear masks, and perform bombastic moves that look like flight! It'd fit you perfectly!

Quetz: wow! That sounds increíble!

Rex: then let's make you a lucha hero!

After an extensive montage of gathering the materials, learning the moves, and practicing a bit, Quetzalcoatl was ready to be a lucha themed superhero! She wore a red leotard, with red boots and gloves, green cape, and a red and gold lucha mask!

Quetz: wow! With this, I feel like a new me!

She said this with much excitement as she floated off the ground.

Rex: I'll say! It's incredible!

She zipped towards Rex, grabbing him by the shoulders, with a grateful look on her face.

Quetz: thank you so much Rex! You've been a big help!

Then without thinking she kissed him as thanks. After she finished tho, she realized what she did and the two got embarrassed.

Quetz: ah... sorry about that...

Rex: no it's... fine... kinda nice actually.

Quetz: really? Well... gracias...

The two stood together awkwardly, before an emergency broadcast was heard on the radio!

Radio: emergency alert! Emergency alert! There seems to be a huge whirlpool in the middle of a highly trafficked fishing spot in the sea, and it appears a large monster is at the center!

Rex: looks like it's time for your debut!

Quetz: looks like it! Let's go!

Then Quetz picked Rex up, ready to take him to the location.

Rex: uh...

Then boom! They were gone!

Meanwhile, in a secret underwater base, a shady old man is discussing his plans with an unseen partner.

Old man: charybdis has been unleashed master, just as you requested.

Master?: excellent! These foolish humans have gone long enough without us gods. soon, with enough sacrifices, I'll regain my full power then they'll see!

Old man: and you shall grant me great power in return for assisting you, right master?

Master?: of course! I always make good on my promises! Just do not screw things up!

Old man: of course not! I am an unparalleled genius! I shall make no mistakes!

Master?: see to it that you don't! Or there will be consequences!

A/N: so! Finally the first part of the movie event rewrite! Took too long, and the event's long since over but here we are! Hopefully I'll finish it off in one more part, but I'm fine with 3 parts! Hope you guys like the story!

Tags

@hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @grievouslyxorvia @exmeowstic @renmeo @kazosaurus

[justkurotingz]

hold my hand (macdesi)

this was inspired by one of my favorite songs of all time u should REALLY listen to it, it’s underrated and she’s such a talented korean artist. and this was SO hard to write because i strongly dislike this ship, but desi deserves a happy ending too, so this is a macdesi break up fic which features sweet moments between them 🥺

macriley tag list: @zahra-0110 @shutupshanti @sunflowermotel @moodypetrichorlove @multi-fandomshipper101 @miica432 @ariad21 @tilltheworldendsx3 @likeit-or-leaveit

word count: 728 words

“you’re making soup.” mac commented lightly, smelling the dish before he even fully stepped inside desi’s apartment. desi flashed him a half smile, turning back to the pot in the kitchen, stirring it quietly. “yeah, yeah i am mac.” he smiled, moving past the couch to sit at the table, staring at desi while lightly drumming his fingers against the grain of the table.

“you’re late. where have you been?” she asked without looking at him and he raised his eyebrows, releasing a breath. “uh, you know, around.” he answered vaguely and desi laughed.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” she switched the stove off and mac sighed. “i was with boze at his house. and riles, she’s staying at bozer’s for the night.” when desi didn’t respond, mac stood up.

“look if this is about riles, then-” “can i tell you something?” desi turned to face him, her face illuminated under the flickering kitchen light and mac stopped. “yeah. yeah, sure.”

she smiled softly, setting the spoon down and stepping towards mac. “take it.” her voice was soft as she stretched her hand towards him, and seconds later mac’s large hand covered hers. without a word she led him outside her balcony, under the stars. 

they stood in silence, just the two of them in the cool night breeze, staring at the sky. thunder boomed from above as dark rain clouds moved in and desi smiled. “there’s an old vietnamese saying. there’s no rain without clouds. our future’s pretty overcast, isn’t it?”

she turned to him with a smile and somehow, mac was comforted. she understood his thoughts flashed and he knew in that instant that he had made a lifelong friend. “soup’s done. it’s going to pour soon.” minutes after they got inside, lightning flashed and the thunder boomed again.

as desi and mac drank their soup in the kitchen table, the dim light above them set the tone for the conversation that came next. “i haven’t been treating you fairly mac. we both know that.” mac cocked his head with a crooked smile.

“neither have i. i’m not in love with you desi. it’s been a while since i’ve been in love with you. it’s going to be a long time before i love anyone again. losing both oversight and gwen like that... it took a part of me. i need to find that part of me again, and it’s something i’ve got to do alone.”

“i know. finish before the soup turns cold.” she motioned towards his almost empty bowl and he smiled, quickly drinking the rest and setting it in the sink. “what does that proverb mean?” mac asked desi after a second and she grinned.

“a genius like yourself should be able to figure it out. think about it tonight mac. you know nothing’s changed between us, right?” the urge to hug her struck mac. as strong as she was, desi had never looked so vulnerable to mac before.

“i do. i love you, you know that?” mac whispered as desi crossed over to him, wrapping her arms around him. “you’re a really good friend mac.” he held her tightly, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, feeling her heart beat under his.

“i’m proud of you.” she pulled away, smiling brightly at him and mac frowned. “i didn’t do anything.” she simply smiled, trailing behind mac as he moved towards the door. “you came tonight, didn’t you? i think we both knew how tonight would end before it happened. drive safe, i’ll see you monday. i’ll send over your stuff tomorrow.” he grabbed his coat and stepped outside, walking back to his car with a goodbye.

“hey mac?” he turned briefly and she grinned. “i love you too.” with a smile, she closed the door and walked back to her balcony, the starlight twinkling in her eyes. “people say that time goes by. time says that people go by.” she whispered, letting the first drizzle of warm rain drench her body.

“time really flew between us, huh mac?” she traced patterns into the balcony railing and sighed, inhaling the damp earth smell. “goodbye mac.” she went back inside, and unknown to her, in a car a few miles away, he said “goodbye desi.” they both let go.

it looked like the skies were opening up to the fresh start of warm summer rain.

[stanskzseungmin]

BC ~ Corpse Party

Supernatural! + CorpseParty! AU

Genre: Angst, Horror

Trigger Warnings: Graphic descriptions of gore and death, Chan has a bit of a potty mouth oop-

Word Count: 4834

A/N: I took light inspirations from Corpse Party, but it isn't a direct retelling of the series. Credits to the original owners of Corpse Party for giving me inspiration for this imagining as well as credits for the character, Sachiko, and the Sachiko Ever After charm.

A/N 2: i actually tried to proofread this time (I know, shocking), but I got lazy and really want to get this one up lmao. So we kinda dying like men?

A/N 3: I suggest listening to the soundtrack as you read, but it's fine too if you don't.

~

~

Chan and you had always been close. You both grew up as next door neighbors. The two of you formed a fast friendship when your ball accidentally rolled over to your neighbor’s yard with it stopping by his feet. The dark haired boy with chubby cheeks looked at you with your red cherry ball within his hands. You had asked him if he wanted to play play along with a wide toothy smile that showed the gap in your teeth. You ran over the boundary to grab him by the wrist and the rest was history.

“Hey, short stuff. Are you ready to leave this hell hole?” Chan chuckled landing a light punch on your shoulder.

“You’re not going to be able to leave this hell hole if you don’t study for your final. I didn’t agree to stay after school to tutor you just for you to fool around,” you smiled back tossing a rolled up paper ball at him. The ball bouncing pathetically off his forehead, eliciting a “hey!” from him.

“Nu uh. You’re not tutoring me, I’m tutoring you,” Chan enunciated by pointing at himself then pointing at you.

“Dork,” Chan laughed at your remark. ”Chan, we’re tutoring each other on different subjects.”

“I can’t wait to go home, I’m pooped,” Chan exclaimed dramatically.

“Me too, but we’re stuck here until the storm ends,” you pointed your pen to the window with rain pattering against the glass as the night sky lit up with a loud thunderous boom.

“Ugh!” Chan leaned back in his chair and throwing his head back.

“Might as well to use this time to not procrastinate and squeeze in extra studying,” you suggested.

“But I don’t wanna~” Chan whined.

“What are you? 8?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Don’t you have any other ideas?” Chan sighed slumping over the table, sprawling his limbs over both your notes.

“I got one idea.”

“Do tell,” Chan sat up leaning his cheek on his hand.

“Do you have scissors?” you asked pulling out a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Chan rummaged through his backpack for the school supply.

“Have you ever heard about the ’Sachiko Ever After’ charm?” you asked grabbing the scissors from his grasp.

“Mmm mmm,” Chan pressed his lips together as he shook his head.

“I read it on a blog online,” you started, cutting the paper into a doll shape. “It’s a charm that blesses people with eternal friendship.”

“Lame,“ Chan snorted.

“Rude,” you pouted.

“Hey, we’ll still be friends forever,” Chan smiled grabbing your hand gently shaking it softly. “So what is it?”

“Legend has it that years ago there was a school that was met with a tragedy. The school nurse died in a tragic accident: she fell down the stairs and her neck was deformed and bent out of shape. Allegedly her daughter, Sachiko, went missing that same night.”

“And this ensures eternal friendship how?” Chan inquired, his eyebrow quirking up. The room lit up as thunder boomed.

You shrugged as you cleaned up the shape of the paper doll. “They say that her spirit still wanders the earth and she has the ability to grant wishes. If you do the ‘Sachiko Ever After’ charm, her spirit will channel through and give her blessings for eternal friendship.”

“Cool,” Chan smiled. “So how do we do it?”

You held up the paper doll. “We need at least two people in order to do the charm.  We both have to firmly grasp parts of this doll, then we chant ‘Sachiko, we beg of you.’ We have to do it in our head, one time for each person in the room. In our case, we have to chant it twice. Afterwards, we have to pull on the doll. Ideally, we keep the paper scrap on our person at all times.”

Thunder struck loudly as the room shook lightly.

Chan laughed. “This could be a sign? Sachiko doesn’t want us to be friends.”

“Very funny, Chan,” you responded sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chan grinned at you grabbing the doll’s legs with you grabbing the head.

“You ready?” you looked at him.

“Yeah,” Chan smiled.

‘Sachiko, we beg of you. Sachiko, we beg of you.’

Chan and you made eye contact and nodded to each other signifying you were done. With a firm grip, you both pulled on the doll, the paper ripping along the waist.

Lightning tore through the night sky as deafeningly loud thunder broke through the silence. The walls shook lightly as the lights flicker. The window shatters as the harsh winds force the tree branch that was tapping on the glass to break through.

“Wack,” Chan frowned, leaning over to his backpack to grab his wallet and slide his piece of paper into it with you doing the same to yours.

“So, now you’re stuck with me for eternity,” you giggled.

“Gasp. The horror!” Chan smiled as he grabbed the fabric of his shirt over where his heart is residing before throwing an arm around you to pull you into a hug.

You and Chan paused as the entire building shook. The tables moving along the vibrations. The lights were flickerings as books were shaken out of the book shelves.

“Earthquake!” Chan called out, reaching out to grab your shoulders to pull you down to the ground.

“Channie!” you called out, with panic laced in your voice.

“I’m here, I got you-”

The ground shook once more, this time the shaking was so much more forceful. You felt the vibrations stopping momentarily as the ground disappeared below you. Your heart skipped a beat and you and Chan stared at the dark abyss that suddenly appeared below you. Soon afterwards, both you and Chan starting falling into the darkness as a scream ripped out of your throat.

“Y/N!” Chan called out to you, reaching out to you. Your hands reach up to grab at his sleeves as he pulled you close to his body. “Don’t let go!”

That was the last thing you’ve heard before you were engulfed by the darkness.

~

~

You awaken (by Stray Kids) in an unfamiliar place. You sat up slightly, feeling the searing pain in your shoulder. You let out a small whine as you rubbed at your aching shoulder with your free hand.

“Chan?” you called out for your friend realizing he wasn’t with you. “CHAN?!”

You stood up on your knees as your frantically looked around the room. Outside the window was the same familiar thundering storm, but the room you were in was unfamiliar. The walls were greying and weak. The paint has chipped off, worn over the years exposing the weak splintering wood underneath. The floor was made of the same wood. There were holes decorating the floor as a few planks were popped up. Surrounding you were many desks, broken and tattered, knocked over haphazardly. Curiously, the desks were all on the smaller side. There were a few posters pasted to the walls, the ink and image faded away due to age. You can barely make out the faded text and image. It looked to be what was one a colorful cartoonish image with various letters on it.

Were you in...an elementary school?

“Channie?” you called out again, standing on your feet.

Thunder rumbled lightly outside as the rain pitter pattered lightly on the window. Lightning cracked through the atmosphere again, illuminating the dark room momentarily. You screamed at what you saw, backing up quickly. Your back roughly collided into the book shelf as you lost balance. Your hands reach out to the shelf to catch yourself.

Opposite of you on the other side of the room, was a sprawled body. An arm was outstretched as the head rested on the limb. Both eyes were void of any contents as it appeared as if a vast emptiness was staring deep into your soul. The mouth was open in a silent scream. The skin was grey with several wrinkles and had a texture similar to leather. The clothes were ripped and tattered as you saw bone peeking through the holes.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, feeling your legs give out under you. You curled up on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. Your hands overlap over your erratic heart as your breaths labor. You felt a chill ran down your spine as goosebumps appeared on your arms. You lifted your arm into view as your fingers grazed over the bumps to soothe them.

In your peripherals, a blue light illuminated the corner. In curiosity, you faced the light. Your heart dropping as your eyes widen. In a seated position with her knees pulled to her chest, a girl, red, boring deep into your souls. Her skin looked pure and pale as a sheet, but her red attire, what used to be a pretty red dress was torn and distressed. The fabric was fraying out and dirtied with who knows what -- things you wouldn’t dare to imagine. The figure’s hair was long and dark and in disarray. Strands of hair lingered in front of her face as her glaring wide eyes peeked through, you can feel her gaze burning holes through you.

You made eye contact with a girl as you felt an electric shock running throughout your veins. Cold sweat began forming in various spots in your body as your breathing became increasingly more labored. Fear wracked your body when you realized that your limbs felt as if it wasn’t your own anymore. The girl, without a sudden sound, stood upright in a straight posture and walked menacingly close to you. You wanted to protest, but even your mouth betrayed you. Your mouth was fixed in its clenched position as you were forced to watch the specter inch ever so closer to you. A hand was brought to her chest as the object glinted. Held by the base of the blade, was a squeaky clean unrusted pair of scissors as the lips curled upward in a small innocent smile.

Your blood curdling scream ripped through the air.

Chan had awaken with a jolt as he shot awake. His head was pounding as he rolled onto his back with a pained moan. He brought his fingers up to the throbbing pain, feeling warm liquid and a slight stinging upon contact. Bringing his hand into view revealed to the Aussie his brilliantly red coated fingers.

“Fuck,” Chan let his hand fall limp as he screwed his eyes shut. Chan let out a breathy sigh as he cracked his eyes open a bit. He took a nice long look at the cracked, worn and discolored ceiling not recognizing it.

“What the fuck? Where am I?” Chan wondered out loud shooting up into a sitting position, wincing loudly at the throbbing on his head protesting from the abrupt action.

“Ow ow ow,” Chan pressed his palm firmly onto the head wound as he willed himself off the ground. 

Lightning illuminated the room briefly. It was a small quaint room with faint evidence of childish crayon and marker scribbles on the wall. The floor was littered with various markers and crayons as well as various toys. Chan scanned the room from left to right. He eyed the sprawled out letter blocks, each block was gathering dust and spread out haphazardly. He then analyzed the several balls that were scattered on the floor. Chan’s eyes narrowed at a point of interest as he stepped forward towards an oddly familiar ball.

“What the fuck?” Chan shook his head in disbelief. His hand reached for the ball, his fingers grazing over the worn rubber as he rolled it towards him. 

“No,” Chan said sternly backing away quickly from the ball. Written on the ball scribbled with permanent marker was his and your names from your childhood days. Chan remembered the ball that started his long lasting friendship and vaguely recalled the ball popping and tossed due to the worn rubber from continuous use and play being weak and thin. Chan remembered the ball bouncing into his parent’s rose bush and the beloved toy popping.

“That’s- that’s not possible,” Chan whispered out. Chan turned away to step out of the room only to trip over the stacks of blocks gathered by his feet. “What?”

Chan’s eyes darted to the corner where the blocks were previously rested at only to find it bare. How did it gather at his feet?

"This is getting freaky," Chan grumbled stepping over the blocks.

Chan made his way towards the door of the room only to find a flipped over toy remote car blocking the doorway. Unlike everything else in the room that was greying and gathering dust, the car had a brilliant gloss and sheen over the red paint. Chan bent down to pick up the toy car and examine it closely. It looked to be in pristine condition with a fairly strong smell of fresh plastic.

"Why- aah!" Chan yelped when the car revved to life as the front two wheels began turning left and right frantically dropping the car as it fell and bounced on the ground. Pieces of plastic shattered and fluttered off during impact. The car bounced and rolled until it was on its hood, the battery casing popping off the bottom.

It was empty.

A loud scream shrieked through the atmosphere as Chan jumped up ready.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Chan barreled out of the room into an unfamiliar hallway. 

"Oh shit," Chan cursed as he stopped just in time, swaying back and forth trying to keep his balance. The room Chan was in led to a collapsed floor. The wood was splintering around the edges and the remaining wood creaked and groaned under Chan's weight. Chan peered down the hole, it seemed endless; Chan was unable to see past the darkness.

Chan pressed his back against the wall to shimmy his way to his right down the hallway back to solid ground. Going left wasn't an option do to the lack of structurally sound wood, the ones that were there looked as if they were rotting away and can give way when applied any sort of pressure.

Chan could hear you scream once more.

"Y/N?" Chan looked past  the huge collapsed gap on the floor as he sees you stumbling out of your room, landing directly on your back. Your eyes were wide and glossy, your hair was disheveled with several strands sticking in every direction. Panic wracked through your body, Chan can see all the trembles and could almost hear your labored breathing.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Chan tried to call out to you from his side of the gap.

Your head slowly turned to face his directly as your face paled impossibly whiter as if you've seen a ghost. Whimpers erupted from your lips as you quickly back up and ran away.

"Y/N! Wait!" Chan called out, reaching out an arm, but you were already gone.

You whimpered to yourself as you slowly walked down the stairs, jumping slightly after every creek of the wood holding against your weight. Paranoia wracked your being as your dilating eyes dart back and forth at every single nook and cranny. The air felt heavier the further you walked down as if there were more paranormal activity in the air, but you kept pushing on. You needed to get away from that thing you saw.

"Anything was better than that," you would whisper to yourself in a dire attempt to console your erratically beating heart.  A fleeting feeling rushed through you. The heavy atmosphere felt as if it was pushing against you, the weight of it putting pressure over the entire surface area of your body. Your thighs subconsciously rubbed against each other as your hands absentmindedly trailed down to your pelvis area. You didn't notice it before, but it felt full and overflowing, close to bursting. The heavy atmosphere made the need for relief more dire.

You whined loudly. Why did you need to go now of all times?

You rushed down the hallway, each step creaking loudly in protest as you pushed opened the door. You yelped after being greeted by another deceased form, two actually. One larger than the other as it held the smaller within its arms. Both their eyes were hollow and dark like the one before, but their facial skin had more integrity. It was off colored with hollow cheeks. Their clothes looked clean, almost too clean. What was more off putting was the familiarity of it. You screamed shaking your head vigorously as tears flowed out in streams with your body shaking in fear. 

They were donning what you and Chan were wearing.

"How horrible," Chan grumbled gazing at the sight of two bodies before him. One was was upright against the wall with the other sprawled on the floor. The one sat up right had a dark stain on their dress shirt. The once white shirt now had a large black spot. The skin underneath looked raw and torn, the flesh looked ferociously torn open by a wild animal. The other body lying on the floor had a similar black stain along their jaw. The body had decayed enough where the skin shriveled and exposed the teeth, within the junction between two teeth had evidence of meaty flesh that used to be there.

Chan groaned in disgust as he leaned down to grasp at the discarded piece of parchment. The back was blank and had a dark browning blood smear. Chan turned the piece of parchment over to read the desperate chicken scratch. Most of it was illegible and covered by drying bits of blood and dirt. 

"We… starving.

… food… 

Itchy… scratchy…

Rock, paper, scissors

Loser… eats winner."

"Oh my fucking god," Chan exclaimed tossing aside the scrap note. "This has got to be a sick joke." 

Chan shuddered momentarily as he continued down his hallway trying to make his way to you. Chan wasn’t really the type to believe in the paranormal. Sure, Chan liked to indulge in the superstitions and the good scare of ghost stories (much to your dismay), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he believes in them. The whole building seemed to look in complete disrepair as if not a single soul has been here for years. The entire place was silent, more or less, the only noises that permeated throughout the entire building were the muffled thunderstorm outside, the building settling and himself. Chan’s entire body stiffened as a cold chill ran down his spine. A low moaning came and went like it wasn’t even there. Chan whipped around to check his behind only to see nothing out of the ordinary. Soft gurgling could be heard, similar to someone gurgling their mouth with mouthwash. Chan whipped around once more, each noise came and went but it sounded like it was directly behind him. 

“What is this bullshit?” Chan mumbled under his breath, turning back the way he was originally going. His breath hitched when he noticed a figure of a small child glowing a pale blue at the end of the hallway. Chan’s eyes widen as he blinked repeatedly. 

“No,” Chan spat. “I am not seeing ghosts.”

The same gurgling sound could be heard from the child. Chan gulped once he finally took in the child’s entire appearance. The child was wearing what used to be a white sweater, the white now painted a brilliant red along with a simple pleated skirt, knee high socks and black flats-- standard elementary uniform. While her body seems physically unharmed, her head was an entirely different story. Chan froze in place as he felt as if his feet were nailed to the ground. The girl trudged towards Chan with a slight wobble and limp to her step. A bloodied hand was outreached trying to grasp at Chan as she walked closer. Chan’s jaw went slack staring directly at the girl, everything jaw up was missing. It was a painful sight. The skin looked red and raw, the anatomical evidence of the upper mandible and the upper vertebrates of the spine was gone. Pieces of hair were desperately holding onto the missing skin of the neckline and the skin desperately looked like it was ready to roll back down as if you wore pants with too loose of a waist band. The flatness of it was horrendous, the lower half of her head look as if it was displaying the lower jaw and tongue on a rouge serving platter. 

Another loud scream broke him from his trance. Your scream. 

The headless girl still walked over towards Chan every so slightly with an arm outstretched with gurgling noises coming from the blood bubbling in her esophagus. Even if the danger before had a higher threat, his priority was you. Chan pushed forward sidestepping the girl, her tiny hands barely missed Chan as he rushed for the staircase behind her. Chan barreled down the stairs, his left hand holding on the railing using it as leverage to swing around the staircase. Chan let out a pained yelped as his fingers sliced on something. Chan stopped where he stood to examine his fingers. A huge gash was lined diagonally beginning from his index down to his middle as the blood spewed out in rivers of red as it dripped to the floor. 

“Ah, shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Chan cursed grasping at his fingers trying to stop the blood flow. Upon closer inspection, Chan noticed a singular nail protruding out of the hand rail. A bundle of piano wire was gathered around the metal objects as it stretched out to the wall opposite. A small portion of the wire was dyed red with Chan’s blood as a singular drop fell towards the floor. 

“What the fuck?” Chan breathed out, analyzing the wire. His uninjured hand ghosted over the wire wincing by how sharp it was. It was thin, almost transparent to the naked eye. Only upon close inspection with a critical eye, would one see the metal wire. 

“That’s fucked up,” Chan ducked under that metal wire to continue on.

What you don’t know, can’t hurt anyone right?

You were currently waddling with your thighs being pushed together as you desperately trying to hold it in. You had some pride within you, you wouldn’t be able to live it down if you had to squat in the corner to relieve yourself. Even if Chan never knew about it, you can practically hear Chan clowning you about it for the rest of your life. 

“Oh my god, yes! Thank you!” you sighed as your bolted toward the restroom with a sign that displayed a silhouette in a skirt. Your hand reached for the handle when a familiar voice from within stopped you. It was an old fashioned knob with an old fashioned keyhole. You kneeled down peek through the keyhole. As you expected, the voice was indeed familiar. You could see Chan standing before a stall. His head was hung low slightly. You noticed there was someone in the stall Chan was standing in front of, but you couldn’t see or hear who it was. Only parts of her front were peeking out of the stall, you can faintly see the outline of the figure standing on a bucket with their arms rope bound before her. You could also make out a rope tied to the ceiling.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you panicked as your heart raced in your chest. You watch Chan without hesitation kick the bucket from under the figure as their bound hands flew to their neck. “Oh god. Channie, why?” you wailed out. You gasped when you see Chan turn his head towards the door, his eyes were hidden behind his fringes that were matte and almost sticking to his forehead. 

Whimpering lightly, you stumbled backwards totally ignoring the need to relieve yourself as adrenaline rushed through your system. Quickly getting up to your feet, you sprinted the other way, ducking into the first hallway you passed. Your eyes were clenched shut as you blindly sprinted the other direction. The sound of your erratic heartbeat was thundering loudly in your ears as you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

You screamed when you collided with a hard chest. The impact sending you falling to the ground with you landing on your butt ungracefully.

“Y/N?” the voice called out to you. You felt his hand gently grasping your arm.

“No! Let me go!” you wailed, kicking at your assailant.

“Y/N? Y/N! It’s me, Chan! It’s ok, I got you!” he tried to calm you down by grasping at both your flailing arms.

Your eyes cracked open to the man before you. How did he end up ahead of you? You didn’t even stop to consider that he actually looks different. Unlike the Chan you saw just moments before, this Chan actually had a head injury-- red, raw, puffy and bleeding and his fringe was still styled up and out of his face exposing his forehead and eyes. 

However, the murder you had witnessed was still fresh in your mind. You screamed and thrashed within Chan’s grip who was desperately trying to ground you in reality. Your breathing was getting ragged and breathy as panic struck. You watched Chan murder someone, what if he was going to murder you too?

“It’s ok. It’s ok, Y/N. Just breathe!” Chan spoke calmly trying not to prod at your panic attack. “Y/-” 

You managed to release your dominant arm from his grip and gave him a firm blow to the jaw with your fist and kicking him off of you, by landing a swift harsh kick to his torso knocking the air out of his lungs and him flying backwards. Chan was coughing roughly from the harsh attack. 

“Y/-” he coughed, interrupting himself mid sentence. You got up, jumping over his downed body and sprinted down the hallway. 

“Wait! Y/N!” Chan called out to you as he stood up to follow.

“Get away from me!”

“Why? Y/N, wait! Talk to me, please!”

“No! No! No! Leave me alone!” you bawled, your voice cracking after every word. You pulled open the door to the stairway and ran up the stairs. The door swinging shut behind you as Chan’s eyes widen in horror remembering what was there.

“Y/N! DUCK!” Chan screamed out desperately.

“What?” you breathed out.

Thump.

Chan’s heart skipped a beat as he stopped before the door. Suddenly he felt as if he was a fly ensnared in a fly trap. His legs were heavy as if gravity had his ankles in a vice grip. 

“Y/N?” Chan whispered out, his voice betrayed him.

“Y/N?” he called out once more weeping.

He willed his legs to move even if they so desperately want to stay rooted to the ground. With trembling hands, he wrapped his fingers around the door handle and slowly pulled the door open. His heart was trembling in his chest as he feared what was going to be revealed behind the door.

“No, no, no,” Chan weeped shaking his head. His face scrunched up as his lips parted to weep and his eyes welled with tears. A strong stench of urine filled his nose. Your body was slumped over the incline of stairs with a leg bent awkwardly in an unnatural direction, a puddle of liquid pooling just below your pelvis. Your eyes were wide staring straight at him as your jaw went slack. Your cheeks were decorated by the recently running tears. From the piano wire suspended in between the wall and the railing, a section was red and dripping as your head rolled, bouncing pathetically down each step like a deflated ball with it stopping by his feet.

“Hey there! Do you want to play ball with me?” you called out with a toothy smile, showing off the gap between your teeth proudly.

Ugly screams ripped through his vocal chords. Chan’s cries of despair, mourning and pure raw emotion kept coming out. His voice reverberated throughout the walls. Chan fell to his knees, his hands grasping at his locks pulling at it as he kept screaming. His eyes were wide as his gaze couldn’t focus on anything other than your lifeless orbs.

Stood atop the stairway as the familiar headless specter in blue. Chan looked at her in horror as tears free fell from his eyes. She outreached her hand again, but this time something was within her small grasp. Chan recognized the faux leather material, the smiling faces of you and Chan was shown from the display pocket of your wallet. In her other hand, the bottomless paper doll that was yours. Chan can feel the weightless paper scrap securely stored in his wallet weighing down his pocket.

“Cool,” Chan smiled. “So how do we do it?”

You held up the paper doll. “We need at least two people in order to do the charm.”

We need at least two people in order to escape.

[strsburn]

concussions and crushes

concussions and crushes

summary : in which the reader gets hurt during the Washington Monument incident and is not only sporting a crush but a mild concussion

see also : reader thinks peter doesn't like her, the way she likes him, but that is far from the truth.

pairing : peter parker x fem!reader

genre : fluff, fluff, and more fluff

words : 1,467+

side notes : I literally started writing this while I was watching spiderman homecoming today, like BOOM idea as soon as the elevator scene came on, inspiration struck and suddenly I've written over 1k words lol. Also this is kinda rushed so sorry not sorry for any errors.

also I changed things because I didn't want this to be an EXACT copy of what happened in the movie so don't be like "bUT tHiS dIdNt haPpEn iN tHe mOvIe"

_______________________________________

"You look like you got hit by a truck." The familiar dry tone has you looking up from your phone, meeting the eyes of a slightly amused Michelle Jones. 

"Thanks, that's the look I was going for today." You respond, sarcastically causing MJ to break into a grin. You had spent all of yesterday watching compilations of cats falling off of things, in hopes of getting rid of the nerves that plagued you due to decathlon the following day (today).

"So, what's got you all shaken up? By the way, don't move this would be the perfect sketch to add to my "people in a crisis" collection." MJ asked nonchalantly as she pulled her pencils and a sketchbook out. 

"Decathlon is today, and uh I'm just really nervous because well, Peter was the smartest person on the team, but now that he left everyone is counting on me and I don't know if I can do it." You rambled. MJ didn't even flinch as she continued to draw out your features that were pulled into a small frown.

"Y/n, you're one of the most intelligent people I know. You'll do fine, now hold still I'm almost finished with this sketch." Strangely enough these words were enough to put your mind at ease and you slowly relaxed into your chair, causing MJ to cheer as she could finally finish her masterpiece.

_________________________________________

"Alright we are now at our final question, which will determine who takes home the trophy for the state championship." You held your breath as the lady read the final question, you held hands with MJ who slightly bit her lip in anticipation.

Her eyes lit up when she realized she knew the answer to the final question and before you could blink her hand was hitting the silver bell on your table. 

"Midtown high?" The lady raised her brow questionably. 

"Zero." MJ stated in an obvious tone, her curls bouncing as she shrugged. The lady blinked in bewilderment as she re-checked her cards.

"That...is correct." Your team cheered giving hugs to MJ who tried to feign annoyance but the smile on her face said otherwise. 

You were able to sigh in relief as you realized it was all over and you could finally be at peace. 

"C'mon, y/n we are going to go and see the Washington monument." Liz called, waving you over, you nodded hesitantly and went over too afraid to remind her of your fear of heights. 

"See, I told you guys we didn't need Penis Parker." You heard Flash comment and you gasped just realizing Peter hadn't been at the event, despite re-joining the team a day prior. 

Your thoughts went back to the curly haired boy whom you had spoken to only a handful of times. He was rather awkward, and fidgety but he had a kind heart. You found it rather cute. Although Peter didn't seem to like you very much, if him running away everytime you initiated a conversation, was anything to go by. 

You were brought out of your thoughts by MJ who insisted she'd rather read than go to the monument that was built by slaves. 

"You sure? Do you want me to stay with you?" You asked her, not wanting her to be by herself. Unfortunately she waved you off, telling you to go have fun. You smiled and headed after Liz who was already taking pictures, despite the large sign stating that any sort of photography was forbidden. 

As soon as you were all in the elevator, you headed for the corner to hold on to the rail, your stomach in a knot knowing you were only going higher by the minute. 

You looked around in order to distract yourself when your eyes caught sight of a bright purple glow emitting from Ned's backpack, that only seemed to grow brighter as the minutes passed and you moved forward out of curiosity.

"Hey Ned, what's that purple-"

Before you could finish your sentence a loud boom rang throughout the elevator and you were slightly thrown back at the force as the ceiling exploded. Ned threw his backpack to the floor, smoke drifting from it and you pushed yourself closer to the wall, looking at the ceiling in trepidation. 

"Nobody panic, we are all safe." The tour guide said monotonously, not calming your nerves in the slightest bit. 

Just as she said this, the doors to the elevator slid open and officers began to motion you all to climb out. You decided to go last, too afraid to take any sudden steps. You watched as your classmates filed out. Leaving only you, Mr. Harrington and Liz. 

Just as the rest of you prepared to move, the elevator creaked and then plummeted sending you all to the floor. You screamed, your vocal chords straining at the pitch and volume as you felt your heart drop to your stomach. 

Just then, everything jerked to a stop and you looked up at the lack of movement your eyes widening when you came face to face with a familiar red mask.

"Hey, it's alright I got you. I got you." Spiderman reassured his white eyes narrowing as they focused on you. You could only nod, your hands still clenched tightly around the rail.

"Alright, move. Everyone out, faster people." Spiderman urged, you pushed lightly on Liz's back motioning for her to go first. She smiled in thanks trailing after Mr. Harrington who pulled her up. They both turned to you expectantly but you gasped as the elevator once again dropped, causing you to cry out as you fell, hitting your head on the rail, causing it all to go black. 

"Y/N!" You heard just as your eyes slid closed. 

_________________________________________

"Y/n, can you hear me?" 

Your eyes opened at the sound of your name and you moved to sit up, your head pounding. 

"No, no, no. Stay still, you have a mild concussion." You furrowed your brows at the slightly familiar voice and you squinted your eyes, trying to gather your surroundings. You turned to face Spiderman who gently held your hand in his, a paramedic standing by your side. 

"W-what? What's going on?" You mumbled. 

"You hit your head on the railing, when the elevator fell. I'm so sorry you got hurt, y/n." Spiderman spoke. Your eyes furrowed more in confusion as it all came back.

"How did you know my name?" The whites of his eyes widened at the question and suddenly Spiderman was speaking a mile a minute, saying he hoped you felt better, but unfortunately he had to go. Without another word, he shot a web out of his hands and swung out of the area, leaving you with the paramedics and a still slightly bruised head. 

________________________________________

"Hey, y/n good to see you're still alive. Had me worried, I'd have to draw a portrait for your funeral." MJ commented bringing you into a hug. You could hear the slight undertone of worry in her words and you smiled at her. 

"Thanks, MJ. Glad to be here." You continued to walk to class as she started to once again speak about some case of the black dahlia. 

You nodded and turned to head into English when you bumped into someone causing you both to let out sounds of pain. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry y/n." You met the eyes of Peter Parker, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. 

"It's alright Pete. Missed you at the decathlon." You smiled. 

"O-oh yeah, sorry about that. I was uh...sick. yeah like, super bad." He shook his head. 

"Right..well I'm glad you're okay now. See ya, Pete." You added after MJ pulled on your sleeve impatiently. You smiled at Peter before walking around him to class. 

Just before you could enter, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist.

"W-wait.."

You turned to face him, leaving MJ to slip into the class with an amused grin. 

"Yeah, Peter." You asked hesitantly. 

"W-would you maybe, uh like to go to homecoming with me? That is, if you don't have a date- not that you wouldn't! I mean, cause you're beautiful so I under-" 

He stilled as you carefully stood on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. 

"I'd love to go with you, Peter." You watched as his cheeks once again turned a bright red and he grinned widely.

"Awesome." 

You matched his grin, turning to enter the class. You knew you were more than late but at that moment you didn't care. 

"See you later Peter. Try not to run away from me this time." You said teasingly as you walked away from him, missing the small fist pump he gave as he watched you leave. 

Perhaps he liked you after all. You smiled at the thought. The day had turned out a lot better than you expected. Mild concussions and all.

[justgotham]

I really must thank the organisers of the Heroes & Villains event. I met up with the agent who had organised our passes, and arranged our interviews. He led me to a behind the scenes meeting room, knocked on the door, and inside I saw two of my favourite actors waiting for me. What was that line about real life, again?

My initial reaction was disbelief, I was immediately star-struck. To their credit both gentlemen put me at ease. By the end of the conversation It felt more like I’d been in a room with old friends. At first I couldn’t even get my fingers and thumbs working to hit the record button, but got there eventually. This wasn’t a tech issue, this was interviewer malfunction!

Action!

Dark Knight News: Right, it’s finally recording.

Robin Lord Taylor: Boom!

DKN: So, I’m here for Dark Knight News and DC Comics News with Cory Michael Smith and Robin Lord Taylor AKA Edward Nygma and Oswald Cobblepot. First of all, how are you finding London? Have we been nice to you?

Cory Michael Smith: Oh, yeah. I love it.

RLT: It’s been fantastic.

CMS: This is my fifth or sixth time here, it’s probably my most visited city outside the U.S. I love it! I came early, I’m staying late… it’s great!

RLT: Yeah, the same. I think it’s maybe my third or fourth time. It’s just fantastic. When I first came to London I was like oh my gosh, there’s actually another city I could conceivably see myself living in besides New York.

DKN: That’s how I feel about New York!

RLT: Really? Wow. They feel like sister cities in a way. They’re very similar in many ways.

Riddle Me This

DKN: I have loads of questions for you from the whole team, but… let’s have a look. (Under my breath) Are you single? Nope, skipping that… Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend/partner/significant other? Nuh-uh… Will you marry me… What th’ … (Back in full voice) Ah, here we go (CMS and RLTare laughing at this point.)

Edward and Oswald… radical departures from the way that anyone has played them before, which is awesome. A conscious decision, or did the producers want you to go down fresh avenues of interpretation?

CMS: It was very conscious. In the beginning we had a conversation with the creators about the character, but it’s felt pretty hands off for most of it. Early on with Nygma we were trying still to find the character, we were so far away from The Riddler. So we had some course corrections, and tried some stuff and had some different plot lines. It’s been so fun to go from Nygma to The Riddler. It’s felt like a really exciting evolution. Then the back and forth…. it’s felt like a very organic development of character. It’s been really fun.

RLT: I don’t know if you’ve heard, but it was really fascinating the way they cast the show. When I auditioned (Robin looks over to Cory) and I don’t know if it was the same for you, but we were not allowed to see the script. We weren’t even supposed to know what the project was, so they had sent out just scenes that were written just for the audition, with very little description.

When I came in to audition I made choices not knowing it was The Penguin. I was given a scene, and so, OK, here’s what I’m gonna do with that, and it just happened to be exactly what they had in mind. And that was the same for all of us, they didn’t want us to come in with any expectation or any thought about what came before. So it was very intentionally, made to be a departure for all of us, from the characters as we knew them before.

DKN: That makes so much sense. That’s a much more organic way to form a character naturally. One of my favorite parts of the show is how organic and natural it does feel from a character performance standpoint. I was speaking to Drew (Powell) earlier, and having a real, physical Solomon Grundy, rather than a CGI monstrosity was brilliant.

CMS: Thanks.

RLT: Thank you.

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue. I Have Multiple Personalities… And So Do I.

DKN: Obviously duality is a huge theme in Gotham, and in Batman’s universe. Robin, you started out as a good son, a family man, forced into becoming a monster. Cory, you were a nice, stand up guy, working for the police. You then had your heart broken, and your mind destroyed by guilt, forcing you to become the Riddler. Has it helped you, as actors, playing these two radically different personalities, that are the same person?

CMS: Absolutely! After four years of doing this, I feel way more in command of my body, and my voice, and there’s something really exciting about being on a TV show that feels so… operatic, and big. We both come from a theatre background, and you have the allowance to really fill a space when you’re doing theatre.

That’s rare in TV and film today, to be granted the authority to really flex your muscles that way. To learn how to do it on-screen, in a way that is focused, but still like… eruptive… it’s been a great education.

RLT: Yeah, definitely. It’s been great. There’s the idea that, when you’re on film that everything has to be smaller. This show has completely stripped all that away.

DKN: Every episode feels like a movie, and every performance is full of life.

RLT: Exactly, it’s larger… it’s like the largest performance you can give, and they want that. They encourage us to be big, and to be brave and put it all out there. That’s what I’ll take away from this whole experience. Feeling so much more confident in who I am, and knowing that when I walk into a room, I know how to command a space now… which I don’t think I really understood that before.

The Tools Of The Trade

DKN: Would either of you like to have the comic-book toys, like the staff, or the umbrellas in the final season?

CMS: Oh, yeah! Give me my cane! (All three of us laugh)

RLT: Yeah, he gets a cane, I get my umbrellas.

CMS: Give me my cane!

RLT: I’d love the helicopter umbrella, that would be great. Also, I’m really hoping that we get the monocle next year. In the storyline it’s an injury, so I don’t know who would cause it in the show (points at Cory) probably him… (We laugh) I think it would be fantastic! Especially since it’s wrapping up, I feel like, by the end, all of the pieces are gonna start coming together for all of us.

CMS: (To Robin) Do you plan on gaining 50 lbs this season? (We all laugh) Can you imagine? Oh, my God!

RLT: And shrinking! (More laughs)

DKN: That’s too funny.

I Did it My Way

DKN: Like you said, Robin, sadly things will be wrapping up. There’ve been quotes from the show-runners saying that characters like Mother and Orphan / The Lady Shiva and Cassandra Cain are coming onto the show. Are you guys excited about that? Some new blood?

CMS: Absolutely, yeah, totally.

RLT: I’m excited about new blood, but really what I’m hoping is, since it’s the last season, that even with the introduction of new characters, we’ll still be able to come back and focus on the core family, the core group that has been there since the beginning.

DKN: The backbone of the show.

RLT: Exactly. That’s going to be really gratifying, and it’s going to be very emotional. I’m already anticipating that.

CMS: I know, It’s a lot.. It’s a lot.

Men For All Seasons

DKN: The fans are, obviously, really sad about it ending too. I’ve been reporting on the show since it started, and one small comfort is that you’ll be going out with a bang, and not with a whimper.

CMS: Oh… it’ll be epic!

RLT: It’ll be fantastic. Also, just to know that it’s the end. I’ve been saying that once the show is done and time goes on, new people will still be discovering it. I’m just so glad that they’ll be able to watch it, all five seasons as though it’s a movie. The fact that we will have an ending, and that it will be, over five years, the big arc of the whole thing. I think it will be really great.

DKN: I was hoping you’d get ten years, like Smallville did, but…

(They both laugh and smile)

RLT: Hey, you never know… maybe Netflix will pick us up.

(More laughter from all three of us)

Every Girl’s Crazy ‘Bout A Sharp Dressed Man

DKN: It’s great seeing you both so casual, and relaxed. You’re usually in these sharp suits, and all dressed up. The costumes in the show are great! Do they feel as good to wear as they look?

CMS: Oh my God, yes. It’s extraordinary. We’re fortunate to have them custom made, and when you put them on you feel… powerful.

RLT: Yeah.

CMS: It feels right, and the fabric is beautiful, or it’s glistening, or it’s velvet, or whatever it may be. It just feels rich, and you can walk into a room and really own the clothes.

RLT: Yeah. It’s like putting on the skin of the character. I love working that way too, to be able to go from the outside into the emotional interior. To be able to put on the suit, have the nose, and then the hair. It’s like all these pieces come together, and then I’m Oswald. It feels really great.

Comic-Book Men

DKN: What was your relationship with comics. Before working on Gotham, and since?

CMS: Before the show, I didn’t have a relationship with comics, we didn’t grow up with them in our house. My brother and I didn’t read them. Now… (Laughing) now I have a collection! Particularly of Batman. I’m mostly focused on reading Batman comics, and now I have a little library that I’m pretty proud of.

DKN: Cool!

RLT: Yeah, same. I wasn’t a huge comic-book person as a child, but I was obsessed with the movies. Now it really is so rich. The art, the creativity and background of these characters I find so fascinating. It really feels like it’s mythology… the mythology of today, and I think it’s so exciting. The fact that it inspires both myself, and other people, that’s exciting.

DKN: Thank you so much.

So, to close. Any final message to our readers, your fans, from Cory and from Robin. What would you like to say?

CMS: Join us on the ride to the finale. It’s gonna be epic!

RLT: I love you, and thank you.

DKN: And we all love you, and thank you. Thanks guys!

RLT: Cheers, mate!

CMS: Thank you, man.

DKN: Fingers crossed, we’ll see you next year!

CMS: Yeah!

RLT: Fantastic!

[uas-fics]

Title: The Witches’ Comet

Summary:Wilde’s Comet only comes around once every forty-five years, and Craig doesn’t want to watch this wonder of nature alone. If his friends don’t want to join in, then he’ll ask the cute cafe owner instead.

Rating: G

Ships: Creek

Other: Inspire by a request prompt from  @sillypandalover91  on instagram.

read it on ao3

~~~~~

“Ah, come on!” Craig held his hands out pleadingly. “You can only see the comet once every forty-five years. We'll be old and grey by the next time it comes around!”

Jimmy set his iced coffee down. “I don't know about you, but I plan to keep l-l-looking this good when I'm in my sixties.” He flashed a cocky smile at his friends.

Clyde snorted, punching his shoulder. “I bet you'll be a wrinkled prune by the time you're forty. You already got wrinkles around your eyes.”

“Those are what people call ‘'laugh lines’.” Jimmy countered. “They're the sign of a happy life.”

Before the two could derail the conversation to another topic, Token cut in.

“We're all sorry, Craig, but Jimmy's the girls’ team manager, and Clyde and I can't miss out on this volleyball game, or Nichole and Bebe will never let us out of the dog house.” Token explained with a shake of his head.

“You wouldn't be able to understand,” Clyde reached over and patted Craig's arm. “You don't have a girlfriend.”

Craig rolled his hand off his shoulder. “Why would I want one? After all--”

“Girls have cooties.” A new voice joined the conversation. Craig felt his heart momentary stumble in its beat as the reason he continually pushed to come to this cafe over the Harbucks stepped closer to their table.

“That's why I keep to boys,” Tweek said as he set a paper bag in front of Clyde. Craig felt a smile spread across his face.

It had been two months since Tweek came to town, and Craig had been steadily working to win his heart. In that time, he's found out the Tweek's family owned the Tweak Bros company and this was their second cafe; if Tweek hadn't dropped out and gotten his GED, he would be a senior like Craig; he had a pet bird and rabbit; he lived alone; and when Tweek laughed his button nose scrunched up and it was among the cutest things Craig had ever seen.

“See? He understands.” Craig bobbed his head. “Thank you, Tweek.”

Tweek smiled at him. His fingers ghosted across his shoulders as he walked around him to place a to-go cup by Tolken. Craig thought he would melt into a puddle of gay goo right then and there.

This scene did not go unnoticed by his friends, who smiled knowingly at each other.

“Say, Tweek,” Token leaned his elbows on the table, “what do you think about space?”

Craig stiffen up before throwing a warning glare. He had better not be doing what Craig thought he was doing.

“Space, well, I think it's terrifying.” Tweek slipped his hands into his apron pockets. “It's huge and vast and cold, and we don't know much about it or what could be out there!”

Craig felt himself deflate. Space had been his favorite subject since he was a child. Hearing his crush describe it like some sort of terrible monster hurt more than he would admit.

“But,” Tweek continued, “that is kind of, ya know, comforting. No matter how big my problems are, space is bigger and going to swallow us all up into stardust one day anyway!”

And just like that, Craig's smile took over his face again.

“That's so poetic,” he told him. “You're so deep, Tweek.”

Tweek smiled right back. “Oh, uh, thanks, Craig!”

“Yeah...” Craig trialed off, staring at the cafe owner.

After moment, just when Tweek looked like he was about to take his leave, Clyde elbowed Craig in the ribs.

“Go on, dude. Ask him to check out the comet with you,” He whispered.

Craig swallowed, nodding slightly to him. “Um, hey, Tweek. Did you know there is a comet coming by soon? Its called--”

“The Witches’ Comet,” Tweek said.

Craig blinked in surprise. He wasn't sure why he had thought that Tweek wouldn't know about the comet. They were friends on Facebook, and Craig had been posting about the comet nearly nonstop.

Clyde raised as eyebrow. “I thought it was called 'Wilde's Comet’?”

“It's called both,” Craig explained. “Wilde's Comet is what most people call it, but it's sometimes called The Witches’ Comet because apparently it brings a magical boost to spell casters when it's around.”

“Wow, t-that's pretty cool,” Jimmy said as he pried the lid off his ice coffee. “Too bad this town is a magic deadzone.”

“The city the volleyball tournament is in isn't. Maybe we could see if we can get a good luck charm or something before the game.” Clyde shoved one of the scones from his to-go bag into his mouth.

“That's called ‘cheating,’ Clyde.” Token pointed out.

“Fine. A charm to help me study for my math test then!” Clyde proclaimed around the raspberry scone.

As his friends began to talk about possible charms and spells they could pick up during the volleyball tournament, Craig turned to Tweek.

“Yeah, so, the comet only comes around once every forty-five years, and I've got a really nice telescope. If you want, we could, you know, go and view it together.” Craig hoped he didn't sound like . space-obsessed loser.

Pink danced across Tweeks cheeks. He fiddled with something in his pockets, looking away.

“Oh, that sounds, fun, really fun, but I'm booked this weekend.” He smiled sympathetically. “I have a bunch of finance and stock papers to go over with my parents, and that will be an all day ordeal. I'm sorry. I really wish I could.”

Craig had to fight to keep his shoulders from slumping forward or his face from falling.

“No, it's cool. I understand. Maybe next time.” Craig shrugged.

“Yeah. Definitely next time. “ Tweek nodded. He looked towards the growing line at the counter before sighing. “Have a good weekend, you four.” With one last apologetic glance at Craig, he headed back towards the front.

Clyde patted his arm. “Heard that? He said 'next time.’ You can plan a date this time.”

Craig pushed back from the table, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, whatever.”

With the pittifulled looks of his friends pressing against his back, Craig sulked out of the cafe.

~~~~~

The sky was clear and the air cold. The stars hung against the black void like thousands of little fairy lights, winking and twinkling down at the earth. A perfect backdrop for the comet to dance by in a few hours.

Craig turned his telescope to the moon for a moment, looking at the rocky surface, then began scanning the rest of the sky. A few smaller meteors streaked across the sky in announcement of the coming of Wilde’s Comet.

Craig straighten back up with a grin. So what if he’d gotten rejected--sort of--by his crush and he had to watch the comet by himself? He was going to see something he might not ever see again!

He walked back towards his bag to fish out a snack bar. The comet wouldn’t arrive for another hour or so, but he was just so excited he set up early. Craig scouted out this forest clearing near the top of a hill nearly three weeks ago. He would come by all the time just to make sure no limbs were growing in a way that might obscure his view or to pick up the beer bottles and chew cans some assholes would occasionally leave.

Chewing the snack bar, Craig put his hands on his hips. This would be an amazing night. His friends were missing out, stuck in the city with all that light pollution. They would barely be able to see the comet’s tail, if they could see it at all.

Nothing could ruin this night!

A heartbeat after Craig thought that, a large, cold, wet drop of rain hit him right on his nose. Craig looked up in time to see a churning black cloud roll over the sky. Rain pelted his back as Craig swore. He ran over to his telescope, covering it with his jacket, before pulling it under the safety of the trees.

“What the fuck?” Craig screamed at the sky. The weather reports, all five that he’d checked, had promised clear skies. How could five different meteorologists not see the patterns for a storm coming?

Taking out his phone, Craig tried to pull up his weather app. No bars, of course. He groaned, thrusting his phone in his pocket. Maybe it would clear up if he waited for a little bit. They probably needed the rain anyway. Things had been dry. This was fine. All was good. The storm would move on, and Craig could set back up and--

A loud roll of thunder boomed over head.

“Are you kidding me?!” Craig gritted his teeth. Great. Never mind that plan. Now he had to head home, or at least down to the rest area near Stark’s Pond. If this was a thunderstorm, then staying under the trees was too dangerous.

Swearing up a storm of his own, Craig collapsed his telescope and placed it back in his travel bag, then stood and began to march angrily through the woods. The dirt already turned into wet mud that clung to the bottoms of his sneakers. His socks and bottoms of his pants were soaked from the puddles. Because of the rain, the rest of his clothing wasn’t too far behind.

Lightning tore across the sky, filling the forest with white light.

He picked up his pace. At this rate, if he didn’t get struck by lightning first, he’d be lucky to make it back to the rest area. Perhaps next time he would try to take into account weather anomalies when picking his comet viewing spot.

Craig stepped on a large log, about to push himself up and over it, when he slipped back. With a gasp, he stumbled and fell to his back. His telescope flew from his hand and rolled down a nearby hill.

“Fuck me!” Craig grumbled as he scrambled to his feet. He couldn’t leave his telescope out here. It cost nearly half the money he made working at the planetarium last summer. He was not about to let some drifter find it and hock it for booze money.

Craig ran down the hill, sliding on the muddy terrain several times, until he made it to the bottom. He scooped up the telescope and held it close to his chest like a father with his child. As Craig turned, preparing to make his trek back up the hill, a warm glow caught his eye. He froze and stared at it.

A house. It was a house, in the middle of the woods. Welcoming light shone from the windows. Craig frowned. Who would live way out here?

Before Craig could ponder farther, a bolt of lightning struck a tree near the top of the hill. As the tree broke in half and began to fall, Craig made a beeline for the house.

He walked under the awning, thankful to finally be out of the rain. Carefully setting his telescope down by a rocking chair, he then walked up to the front door.  He wrapped his knuckles against the door a few times and waited, but no one answered.

Clearly, someone was home. Voices and the clattering of pots and pans came from inside. Craig pressed his lips into a line. Walking in would be rude, but, if he stayed outside any longer, he might get sick.

Praying that this wasn’t the house of an axe murderer, Craig slowly opened the door. He kicked off some of the mud from his shoes a moment before he stepped through the threshold.

“Hello?” He called as he shut the door behind him. “It’s storming outside and I--wow.”

The entire hallway was filled with crystals and plants. Vines crawled along tressels affixed to the walls and planters filled with fragrant herbs hung from the ceiling. Shiny crystals swayed from string or were placed in the pots.

There was only one kind of person who would have a house like this: A witch.

Craig felt his stomach twist. He really shouldn’t be here. While all the witches he’d ever actually met had been fairly kind to him, he still couldn’t help but remember all the stories of witches eating up children.

But, he wasn’t a child. He was a six-foot three-inch grown adult who knocked one of Eric Cartman’s molars out last school year. He could handle some witch, if it came down to it.

Stealing a breath, Craig walked forward through the crystals and plant life. Whoever lived there must be short, since he had to duck down in several places to avoid colliding with either a hanging basket or crystal.

“They did this on purpose, I’m telling you!” A voice carried from an open door.  “They wanted to see if you’d cast that thunderstorm spell or not.

Craig froze a moment before hot anger filled him. So the storm outside wasn’t natural. This witch made it. Probably to ruin everyone’s chances of seeing Wilde’s Comet.

Filled with a new confidence, Craig marched up towards the door.

Someone in a wide brimmed hat had their back to him. The room, a kitchen best as Craig could tell, was just as crystal- and herb-filled as the hallway. A cast iron pot hung over a roaring fireplace. Jars filled with liquids, leaves, spices, and small rocks covered the table. A bird cage hung in the corner with a green parrot fluttering nervously around inside.

“No! No, this was an accident! They sent it by mistake.” A frantic, but somewhat familiar, sounding voice came from the person in the hat.

On the table, an orange rabbit sat, pawing at the some loose peices of paper. The rabbit shook its head.

“I doubt it. Your parents do this shit all the time!” It said. “Also, it says a few marigold flowers.”

“Marigold! Marigold, got it!” The witch squawked, spinning on their heels to the left.

Tweek held his hat to his head as he dashed to the cupboard. He threw it open and searched frantically before pulling out a ziplock bag of dried flowers. With his attention fully on his task, he didn’t notice Craig standing in the doorway with his mouth a gape.

As Tweek dumped the flowers in to the bubbling liquid, the bird in the corner began to scream, flying around its cage and knocking against the toys hanging inside.

“Ack! Kiwi, calm down!” Tweek cried. “The storm isn’t going to get you! Please, be quiet for now!”

“Oh, he’s not freaking out about the storm,” the rabbit raise its paw and pointed towards Craig. “He’s freaking out about the person standing in the doorway.”

“WHAT?!” Tweek gasped. He turned and the moment his eyes fell on Craig, the bag fell from his hands. The color drained from his face and his eyes went wide.

“What are you doing here?!” he asked at the same time Craig blurted out, “You’re a witch?!”

Both men clamped their mouths shut and just stared at each other.

Backlit by the warm fire light with cable knit sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows, Tweek looked soft and so, so warm. Craig  fought back the want to run up and nuzzle against him. No matter how amazing and warm his crush looked, Craig was still mad.

“You? You made that storm?” Craig demanded to know, stomping into the kitchen.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean--It was a mistake! I didn’t mean for it to happen!” He stammered. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you home? You told me you were watching the comet!”

“I was!” Craig glared. “In a clearing, in the woods. Until this fucking storm ruined all that!”

Tweek stiffen. He swallowed hard. “Shit, fuck, I-I-Craig, I’m so--”

“Tweek! Tweek! It’s boiling over!” The rabbit cried, stamping its back paw to get Tweek’s attention.

Tweek spun back towards his pot. With a strangled cry, he shoved oven mitts over his hands before hauling the pot off the fire. Ignoring Craig’s accusations, Tweek grabbed a small, empty mason jar and began to ladle the liquid inside. He repeated this until four mason jars were filled with a thin, yellow liquid.

“Excuse me!” Tweek held the last jar to his chest as he ran past Craig.

“Hey!” Craig snapped. “Get back here!” He chased him down the hall. Tweek threw open the door and dashed right into the storm. Yelling something in a language Craig didn’t know, Tweek tossed up the contents of the jar to the air.

To Craig’s amazement, the liquid didn’t fall down like the raindrops. Instead, it began to glow a soft yellow and float upwards into the clouds. Tweek’s shoulders slumped forward in relief. He walked back towards the porch, setting the mason jar on the rocking chair.

“What was that?” Craig pointed dumbly to the rain.

Tweek wrung his hands together. “Liquid sunshine. It’s a spell that can clear away clouds. If I did it right, the storm should stop in an hour.” He took a breath then began, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I thought it was a good luck charm but I was wrong and...I’m sorry.” He tugged at his sleeve. Taking a lint ball off it, he dropped it to the ground.

Craig ran a hand through his hair. He winced at how wet it was.

“Um, can I have a towel?” He asked. “And can we talk inside?”

“O-Of course!” Tweek nodded.

A few minutes later, Craig sat at Tweek’s kitchen table, a towel around his shoulders and a cup of coffee between his palms as Tweek cleaned up the remains of the liquid sunshine. The rabbit shifted through some papers, mumbling to itself. While Tweek let the pot sit full of soapy water, the bird chirped, jumping around.

“So, is the bird and rabbit your familiars?” Craig ventured. He never realized just how little about witches he knew until just then.

Tweek slipped into the seat across from him, a very large mug in his hands. “Kenny is.” He gestured to the rabbit. “Kiwi isn’t. He’s just a normal pet.”

“Oh, so, um, can any animal be a familiar? Like, if I was a witch, could I have my guinea pig be mine?”

“Ha, who ever heard of a guinea pig as a familiar.” The rabbit, Kenny, laughed.

Tweek ignored Kenny to answer, “Yes, in theory. Familiar studies are complicated, though.”

Craig took a sip of his drink, humming in acknowledgement of the fact. Before he could ask another question, Kenny hopped to the middle of the table.

“Ok, I’ve finished inventory,” The rabbit announced. “We finished all the charm spells your parents asked you to: four charms to bring health to the workers, one to bring you good financial luck, and  two to keep the cafe safe from those with evil intent.”

“Phew,” Tweek breathed a sigh in relief.

“I thought this town was a magic dead zone.” Craig recalled. “How can you do magic if magic doesn’t work here, anyway?”

“It’s not really a magic deadzone. It’s just magic is harder to do around here. I can only do small spells normally. If not for the comet coming around, I wouldn’t have been able to do most of these.” Tweek turned his mug around in his hands.

“Yeah, too bad we didn’t get to do the one he really wanted to do.” Kenny picked up one of the papers between its teeth, turning towards Craig with it.

Craig raised an eyebrow, about to reach for the paper, when Tweek took his hat from his head and slammed it down over the rabbit. Kenny gasped. The paper fell from its mouth and slipped down in front of Craig.

“Ig-ignore him! He’s just a rabbit! When it comes to farmilars, rabbits are a step above demons and...” Tweek trailed off  when he noticed Craig holding the paper in his hand.

“‘Luck in Love’ A spell to charm an object so that the wearer might have a boost in courage and confidence when speaking with those whom they are smitten.’” Craig read. He felt his cheek start to burn. Could he really hope that Tweek might have been making this spell because he was smitten with him?

Tweek groaned, pulling his hat up to hide his face. Kenny popped out with an impish expression on his face--or as impish as a rabbit could make it.  Tweek peeked over the brim of his hat. His ears were bright pink.

“Where you going to use this charm to, um, ask me out or something?” Craig wet his lips. His heart pounded. Please say yes. Please say yes. A yes would make this whole thing worth it.

“I, um, yeah.” He mumbled.

Craig let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh thank God. You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

Tweek lowered his hat. “Really? You don’t mind I’m a...” He raised his hat up.

Craig shook his head. “What’s it matter? Witch or not, you’re cute. I like you either way.” He leaned across the table, setting his hand over his. “And if you like me back, I get a discount to the planetarium. Do you want to come with me sometime?”

“That would be wonderful.” Tweek replied, setting his other hand over the top of Craig’s. A warm smile spread across Tweek’s face, and once again, Craig was sure he would melt.

If at that moment Craig had walked outside and looked up into the clear sky, he might have be able to see a comet race across the sky behind a few thin, scattered clouds, but in exchange for a couple hours in this cute witch’s warm little house, he wouldn’t waiting another forty-five years.

~~~~~

AN: A very big thank you in advance to all the people who like, reblog, reply, and follow after reading this work. You’re all awesome <3 <3 <3

[super-zero-time-blog]

Super Light Warrior Changéríon: Episodes 1-3 Review

The year is 1996. Toei Co. Ltd., the penny pinching and merchandise driven imaginative studio that graced the world with anime adaptations of Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball and tokusatsu hero franchises like Kamen Rider and Super Sentai, have found themselves paired up with massive entertainment force Sega (yes, the Sonic the Hedgehog guys) to release a brand new superhero show on the world.  The first idea, a planned follow up to the 1995 Keita Amemiya film Mechanical Violator Hakaider (itself a reimagining of the villain from the 70′s Shotaro Ishinomori classic Android Kikaider) falls through.  A new idea suddenly comes about from Toei producet Yoshikawa Susumu and suit manufacturer Rainbow Co. Ltd: Create a hero suit made primarily out of transparent parts. With that in mind, a cast and crew are soon brought on to create one of the weirdest tokusatsu series of the 1990′s.

So here we are and here I am and it’s Changéríon (yes the accents are how it’s officially written, it’s meant to be French, I don’t know why) time. Sorry for that long build up! Just figured it’d be what all the cool kids do. Super Light Warrior Changéríon is a doozy of a series, one that has held a cult following in Japan for 20 years after its abrupt end in December of 1996. The show featured a staff of producers (such as Shinichiro Shirakura), directors (such as Takao Nagaishi)  and writers (namely head writer Toshiki Inoue) who would go on 4 years later to help revive Kamen Rider for the Heisei era, and in general went on to be remembered for its quirky and surreal nature. Even the show’s star, Takashi Hagino, would go on to be in Kamen Rider (in a very different role as infamous serial killer Takeshi Asakura, a.k.a. Kamen Rider Ouja, in 2002′s Kamen Rider Ryuki) I decided to plunge into this series finally now that English fansubs were out, and I’ve been contemplating how to go about this. For the first installment I figure I’m just going to write up my thoughts briefly on the first three episodes of this 39 episodes series, and I may then expand upon that later and switch the format around a bit at any given time, so here goes!! 

A few things to note ahead of time

1. The head writer of this series (and, to my knowledge, the writer of the first four episodes here) is Toshiki Inoue. Inoue is a man known for his love of drama, strange humor, and plots heavily focused on miscommunication. His best known shows include Chojin Sentai Jetman (1991), Kamen Rider Agito (2001), Kamen Rider 555 (2003) some mess called Kamen Rider Kiva (2008) and oh yeah he’s written for anime, included the Death Note anime in 2005. You have likely seen something he has written if you’ve touched an anime. Or maybe not, I don’t know.

2. The suits in this. They are absolutely gorgeous, but they were infamously dangerous. 

The Changéríon suit alone had two versions, a 100 kg (~ 200 lb) version for close up shots and a 40kg (~ 80 lb) suit for action scenes. Both were terrifying to those in it. Veteran suit actor Jiro Okamoto commented on the suit being absurdly heavy and fearing he would break it, not to mention that it was so heavy that it hurt his neck. This thing supposedly nearly sent suit actors to the hospital! And yet the action is generally decent despite the struggle in these beasts of a set of suits.

3. The opening, “OVER THE TIMES ~ Beyond The Present~” by MISA. It’s just awesome. It’s really awesome. I mean listen to it. It’s super awesome. 

Aww yeah....

SO! Now that I’ve gotten all of that out of the way, on to the reviews! The format is simple. A summary of the plot first, then my thoughts on it. I’ll see how this works and just go from there.

EPISODE 1: “A Hero!! Me?”

Air Date: April 3, 1996

Bumbling detective Akira Suzumura is hired to investigate a series of missing student reports from a local elementary school. After a night of staking the grounds out, he soon finds himself on a new path after a freak accident and an attack by a monster from the inter-dimensional invaders known as the Darkzeid lead him to unwittingly become the warrior of light: Changéríon! But as he struggles to master his new powers and deal with the mysterious SAIDOC organization, the full threat of Darkzeid begins to awaken.

Changéríon starts out about as weird as you can expect a show like this to with a massive hoop spiralling down a flight of stairs to a narrow Tokyo tunnel and having a creepy 90′s CG entity force its soulless face out towards the camera. It only escalates by going to a dramatic sequence of Akira and his assistant Akemi seemingly armed and ready for a shootout....only for the sequence to be a harmless rescue of a local puppy. This is Inoue at his peak weirdness, something which can really be hit or miss, but it’s strangely all a bunch of baffling moments which click oddly well. Akira isn’t much of a hero in many ways: He’s clumsy, he’s a bit lecherous, selfish and lazy. He doesn’t have much cash and doesn’t even pay part-timers like Akemi well. And yet despite all of this he has his heart in the right place and it’s fun to watch him fumble around in the suit at the episode’s end. It even made me chuckle seeing him “free up” time on a completely empty schedule to help the school find their students. While some scenes do feel disjointed and a bit uncomfortable (including a very uncomfortable joke about pedophilia which struck me as more than a little uncalled for in a show aimed at children), everything is really bonkers and pretty exciting here! It all ends with the main villains being awakened and a budding rivalry between Akira and the former, intended Changéríon candidate, Hayami, as the good folks at SAIDOC quietly wonder “What on earth have we gotten ourselves into with this nut?” 

It’s also worth mentioning that this show is a definite turning point for Toei’s production, having been one of their first shows recorded on digital video rather than film, and it’s chock full of now dated CGI and strange, minimalist dark rooms for otherworldy realms. It’s kinda creepy and very uncanny, but I’d say it oddly works in the show’s favor at this point. It’s got an unintentional charm to it. There’s a borderline David Lynch feel to the Darkzeid realm bits, in all honesty. Considering how big of a hit Twin Peaks was during the mid 90′s in Japan, it wouldn’t surprise me if the set designers took at least a smidge of inspiration from the Black Lodge sequences during seasons 1 and 2 of the series. It’s not as traumatic as something you’d see Lynch do, but there’s a similarly sinister atmosphere to it all here with countless bodies wrapped in plastic...like...bags, much like Laura Palmer was.

 The combat itself is a bit strangely edited too. Lots of sped up footage and Changéríon seldom kicks (more often getting kicked around instead), which I will assume is due to that hulking suit. But it also gives us one of the most ridiculou(sly satisfying) attacks ever with the Shining Attack. Which...uh...well...

....okay it’s pretty rad, I won’t lie. That’s pretty great. It is. It’ll get used to death in future episodes, but it’s still cool here.

First impression is a good one. It’s like this episode sets the tone for what is to come quite well.

Episode 2: “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Brain”

Air Date: April 10, 1996

The three generals of Darkzeid awaken and enter the human world, with plans to consume humans to satisfy their ravenous appetites. Meanwhile, SAIDOC Chief Munakata explains to Akira about the threat of Darkzeid and their need for his help, only for him to swiftly turn them down and celebrate his newfound superpowers with an unlimited shopping spree. But in the process he not only angers operatives Hayami and Eri, but finds himself in yet another Darkzeid plot as Akemi and Eri are kidnapped by an otherworld monster using posessed shoes. It’s up to Changéríon to save the missing women before they end up on Darkzeid’s lunch menu!

It’s here that we see Inoue throw in another one of his big tropes with character writing: The reluctant hero. This isn’t the first time he’d written that character archetype (another great example of this is Gai Yuki/Black Condor in Jetman) but it’s something he loves to write quite often. In this case, Akira decides to just go hog wild with loans he can’t afford, and it’s actually pretty funny. Buying out restaurants for the day, loading up on shoes for Akemi, and just being a total snot and a cocky jerk until he’s forced to realize that he put his own employee in danger and team up with Hayami....after a bizarre sequence of both of them sneaking into the same Darkzeid shoe store. In drag. And not recognizing each other. In drag. Before fighting it out in front of onlookers. In drag. This is after a scene with the store owner, the monster of the week (with a literal face full of shoes in his monster form, no less) attempts to feed his kidnapped victims with mysterious goop in high heel shoes. There’s no shortage of surreal visuals here and it does get disjointed at points, yet I feel like the story comes to a more coherent point from here. 

Despite the goofier antics, there’s still that underlying sinister aura to the Darkzeid generals. Their designs are legitimately creepy and their hushed meetings in dimly lit rooms, murmuring about their need to consume humans and how darkness will consume their own world could easily give a kid nightmares. Even I was amazed at how well the monster suits were pulled off in this show. The villains look like villains, and they’re fittingly mysterious.

In terms of action, Changéríon gets his aptly named Gun Laser, a really nifty weapon with a gimmick I love! Y’see, it runs on disks that he summons from his chest. And the discs spin. Go figure that Sega would manufacture all these toys with a disc gimmick. Not only was it the peak of the CD boom, it also made me chuckle thinking about how they had moved into CDs with the Sega Saturn at around the same time. (Plus the Gun Laser just looks really dang cool!)

 We’re getting places now that the initial stage has been set! Slowly but surely, we’re getting places! 

Episode 3: “A Bunch of Brides”

Air Date: April 17, 1996

Brides are mysterious disappearing at the altar! Darkzeid is behind this! Akira plans to counter these objections to holy matrimony with the help of Hayami and Akemi...but time and again things keep going south! Can he save the day and stop these foul occurrences? Meanwhile, in a basement lab, Chief Munakata struggles to develop the sidekicks Akira needs in his battle...

If you haven’t figured out that this series is meant to be goofy at this point, I don’t know what to tell you. This is a pretty fluffy and light episode with some good gags strewn throughout. Perhaps the funniest is Akira’s futile attempt at teaching Hayami how to flirt with women. It’s done with the most 90′s montage imaginable and it killed me with how good it was. The follow up is the sequence in the above shot, which I won’t spoil the full context for, but it also got a laugh out of me. There’s slapstick, there’s snark, there’s a simple but weird vibe to this whole episode and it’s totally fine. We’ve gotten into the groove of the show at this point it feels like, and I look forward to where it goes from here. The most interesting element plotwise is seeing Munakata’s struggle to get a set of mysterious robots up and working for Akira to use. It’s made clear that he and his research are mocked by his superiors, who don’t even think that Darkzeid is real, let alone a threat. Poor guy needs more respect! But we’ll see where things go with these machines in the next episode.

With 36 episodes left to go, Super Light Warrior Changéríon is certainly an odd, yet familiar show to me. I can see the early elements of Heisei Kamen Rider at play here with how it’s shot, the eerier villain designs, the quick cuts and kinetic feel to the action and the quirky humor and characters. It’s like seeing a mix of Metal Hero aesthetics with Super Sentai pacing making something of a hybrid that will have a lingering impact. Next time I’ll cover episodes 4-7, or perhaps change up the pace a bit. Expect some cool new robot buddies next time, but other than that I’m as in the dark as everyone else!

Hopefully my rambling didn’t scare you away by now, and we’ll be ready for more adventures to come, soon!

And remember! SOMEBODY LOVES you. And SOMEBODY NEEDS you. 

[ingloriousfanfics-blog]

All Smiles - Ch 5

SHIP: link x sidon / sidlink WORD COUNT: 3,074 RATING: T for teen for language FANDOM: the legend of zelda: breath of the wild ONE-SHOT/MULTICHAPTERED: this is CHAPTER FIVE, you can read chapter four here!

SUMMARY: inspired by my own playthrough/painful journey up to zora’s domain, in which link finds prince sidon to be incredibly obnoxious… at first! journeying to the zora’s domain in order to battle with the divine beast vah ruta, link’s injuries from the monsters speckling the path there result in him spending more time getting to know sidon than fighting ruta, and finds himself more invested than he ever imagined.

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Night was beginning to fall upon the Zora’s Domain when they crested the hill and laid eyes upon it for the first time in what felt like weeks. Sore, bruised, and tired, the remainder of their exhausting journey had been spent in tense silence, the entirety of which Link had felt Sidon’s eyes burning into his back. He did not need to look back to see the concern, hurt, and confusion that would be written upon his face, for he had already, accidentally, caught a glimpse of that stare. It was understandable, of course---for him to go from amiable to having his lips tightly sealed, there seemed to be no reason. No reason beyond his own, muddied emotions, twisted and knotted together with his confused thoughts.

 But the sight of the Domain was one of absolute relief, feeling his heavy chest lighten as for the first time in hours, he looked back to Sidon, a worn smile creasing his lips, and spoke.

 “We made it.” Sidon’s smile, toothy and broad, was nearly enough to uplift his spirits further, but remembrance of the prince’s near-sacrifice was enough to turn him serious again, gaze solemn as he located the path. His mission may very well end in his own death, and he need not drag Sidon into it due to attachment. In the end, he was destined to save the princess, and his own personal desires and relationships needed to be set aside until he finished his primary task. Doing his best not to think much of the grim reality of his fate, he motioned for Sidon to follow as he carefully struck out a path down the hill. The grass was slick, the mud sticking to his boots as he attempted to find the driest spots to carve out a path. ”Link, I was thinking---” Link did a bit of a shuffle to avoid a puddle, trying his best not to instinctively look to Sidon as he spoke, focusing on the path ahead. ”Uh-huh.” ”You’ve been quiet this whole way---” ”Yeah.” ”---and I wanted to make sure---”

”Yes?”

 “--that you’re oka---” Making the mistake of lifting his head to acknowledge Sidon’s concerns, mouth partly open in an explanation, all that came out was a startled yelp as his foot slipped up on the grass. Eyes wide, hands fumbling through thin air for a grip, his outstretched fingers found a firm hand, his gaze briefly catching sight of Sidon trying to grapple onto him before he hit the ground. Rather, before they both hit the ground.

 Momentum and gravity dragging them both down, the slick hill served as a slide as they went speeding down, Link’s kicking feet doing nothing to slow them. Frantic eyes looking from Sidon, to the end of their ride that was the bottom of the hill, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to Hylia for a graceful landing. And a graceful landing was anything but what he got, voice mustering something of a half-choked squeak as they hit the ground, and bounced, ricocheting off to land in a heap of limbs.

 Head spinning, the world slowing its fervent dance as he recovered from that tumble, it was only after a few dazed seconds of trying to ground himself that he realized he hadn’t landed on soft, plush ground, but rather a soft, plush shark.

Scrambling quickly at the sacrifice of his screaming, aching muscles, he swung up onto his feet and offered an immediate hand for Sidon to take, concerned eyes raking over him. Of course he had to land perfectly onto the one who was not only the prince of all Zora, but also likely the most injured of all Zora. To aggravate his wounds further by slamming into him as he did was not on the top of his list.

 “Are you okay?” Gaze nervously expectant, watching as Sidon seemed to recover himself, he gave a slow shake of his head, and then blinked up at him. ”… Well that was fun,” he remarked, sharp teeth put on display with a dazzling smile as he accepted Link’s hand, stumbling onto his feet. ”I’m fine---great, actually! We made it!” His excitement contagious, Link could not help but smile back---up until realizing he still clasped his hand in his own for far too many seconds extra, quick to pull back. He was not ignorant to the brief flash of confusion (and was that hurt?) on Sidon’s face before he promptly recovered, looking to the grandeur bridge that would take them to the heart of the city.

“Let’s go,” Sidon said, his voice turned serious as he looked to Link. With a nod, he dusted himself off, and walked in step with the Zora, steeling himself for what was to come.

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

The guards had swarmed them when they had arrived, frantic and excited and nervous all at once. Being as injured as they both were, soaked and in need of proper medical treatment, neither were granted the opportunity to see the king, swept off to separate areas. The last glimpse he had of Sidon was him promising to see him once they were both released from treatment. That had been two days ago now, Link foggily recalling his wounds being treated and bandaged before he fell asleep. Exhaustion had won the battle against his mind, and emerging from the room set up for him, he felt a quiet yearning to go back. Dry, comfortable, warm---it all left as the first fat raindrops hit his shirt, and he fought with himself not to go hide back in bed. But was it so wrong to wish for a day of reprieve from being soaked to the bone, freezing and yearning for quiet?

 Pushing aside his dismal thoughts and stepping out further into the cold and rain, with a quick nod to the guard standing watch at his door, he made his way for the throne room.

 It seemed that he was not the only one with the king in mind, stepping into the covered, expansive room to find Sidon and the decrepit old adviser of Dorephan’s. ”He is too injured,” Sidon insisted, looking between Muzu and his father, clearly blissfully unaware of Link’s quiet entrance. ”The Domain can endure a bit more rainfall, but he cannot--” ”It isn’t the Domain that will suffer, but the reservoir!”

 Link’s eyes shot to Muzu, who’s scowl was almost as deep as the lake itself, glaring down the crown prince. ”We don’t know when it might give, and when it DOES, it wont only be the Domain in danger! If the Hylian wishes to prove himself, then now is the time.” For the first time since meeting him, Link saw true anger enter Sidon’s typically peaceful gaze, expression darkening as he turned upon him. ”Prove himself? He volunteered for this, and it is us who should be proving how GRATEFUL we are for it!” Muzu’s lip curled, serrated teeth caught in a sneer as he replied, “This is nothing more than him paying back for taking away our sweet Mipha. If it weren’t for that blasted Divine Beast, I’d rather see him drowned for his crime.” A chill overtook Link at the hatred seeping from those words, and it seemed it was not only him who suffered from the pure malice coming from Muzu. Looking as if he had physically struck him with his words, Sidon gaped before it all seemed to crash back in like waves hitting the shore, a snarl contorting features Link never knew could harden so.

 Sidon’s hand rose, sharp claws glinting as his arm began to swing, “How dare you---!”

 “ENOUGH!” The booming roar of King Dorephan was enough to shake the very infrastructure of the throne room, all within it wincing and cowing down at the power of such a voice. ”I am sick of these petty arguments,” growled Dorephan from his throne, his eyes turning from his son and adviser, to that of Link, still caught halfway in the doorway. ”If anyone shall be making a decision, it shall be Link himself. What say you, Champion?” Link did his best to not look at Sidon nor Muzu, focusing only on King Dorephan and his patient stare. What choice would he make? He was indeed still exhausted, wounds still healing. But Muzu was also right in that he felt this mission was a sort of redemption for what had happened to Mipha, even if she had taken on her mission on her own accord. Either way, the decision would be hard, and the path beyond it only harder.

 “I’ll do it.” He saw Sidon’s crestfallen, concerned look out of the corner of his eye, and likewise did he catch Muzu’s derisive snort, the Zora turning his back upon him. ”Then so it shall be.” Dorephan nodded, motioning to Muzu to draw his attention. ”Repair his armor. You will set off at daybreak, for the chill of night will be too much for your body. Even with Mipha’s armor protecting you, you remain too exposed to the elements to take such a risk. Do you have any of the shock arrows left from the Lynel?” Muzu, grumbling beneath his breath, turned sharply to vanish out of the throne room, likely to Link’s quarters to retrieve the armor. Only watching him for an instant, Link turned back to give King Dorephan a solemn nod of confirmation. ”I have enough. They are with my quiver in my quarters.” ”Ready them, and ready the rest of your weapons. One of the guards shall assist in arming you with what you may need.” ”And I will come with you!” Thumping a fist against his chest, Sidon’s expression, once shocked by Link’s decision, turned grim and serious. ”Armor or no, you will not be able to swim quickly enough to avoid Vah Ruta’s attacks. I will be your fins, and guide you to her.” Thinking to protest, not wanting to put Sidon in any further harm, the beginnings of such was interrupted by King Dorephan hum, looking up to the king once more. ”So be it. You will honor your people and Mipha’s memory by helping the Champion enter Vah Ruta. You both have my blessings.” Stomach twisting into knots, thoughts filling with the potential sacrifice Sidon may be making, much as his sister before, Link was quick to dip into a half-bow, turning sharp and exiting the chamber to pursue Sidon back into the heart of the Domain.

 “Are you insane?!” As small as he may be, he remained strong, reaching out and seizing Sidon’s forearm with a sharp yank, face distraught. ”Are you?” Sidon, not fighting against his hold, looked down upon him, his serious expression making him look so much older and grim. ”You are still injured, you have only just returned from our near-death experience with the Lynel, and yet you are already promising to face Vah Ruta. I can’t let you go alone. I’m not letting you die.” Link’s emotions were hard to pick apart, anger and uncertainty and fear combining into one ugly beast. This wasn’t supposed how it was meant to go. He was the one meant to be the sacrifice, the disposable hero sent off to do what no one else was willing to. To save the lives of many, he would sacrifice his own, but he couldn’t do that if he could not even keep Sidon safe from himself. ”You can’t go--” Link started, watching as Sidon wrenched himself out of his grip, his eyes narrowing and teeth beginning to flash. ”Why can’t you just let me help you, Link?!”

 Link froze, mouth agape, Sidon’s yell leaving him stunned. His words did not come quickly enough, stumbling and stuttering through as Sidon grimaced, hiding his face with a hand as he turned away.

 “I will meet you at dawn,” he muttered, walking away as Link began to stretch out a hand, frantic. ”Wait, Sidon, wait---!” A water dweller Sidon may be, but his legs were plenty long enough to swiftly take him away, disappearing off to the other end of the Domain with Link taking only one, stumbling step after, heart sinking deep into his stomach. Was it wrong of him to try and deny Sidon what he wanted if he had meant it with good intentions? Was it wrong to try and protect him, even if Sidon was trying to do the same? Staring long at the spot where Sidon had once stood, wondering what he could have done differently, if there was anything he could have done differently, Link sighed slow, shaking his head. ”Dawn… it is.” ---------------------------------

  Link was drowning.

 It was an almost blissful sensation, compared to that of the other near-death scenarios he had been caught up in. There were no monsters snapping at his heels, no person there with him to suffer a kindred fate. It was only him and the dark reach of the water, bubbles drifting past as he sunk lower and lower. Nearly did he shut his eyes, ready to embrace the calm and fall deep into it, until he felt the water churn, as if some great fish had slapped its tail near him. Eyes snapping open wide, becoming all too aware of the painful burn of his lungs and how slow he moved, he looked up to see a shadow blocking out the dim light from above. Closer it swam until his visibility of it cleared, mouth parting to try to choke out a horrified no as water rushed in to smother him. Sidon’s hand reached for him, the Zora’s face taut with fear, trying to grapple onto one of his arms that drifted down through the water. Don’t, he tried, choking on another lungful, sputtering as with every gasp he was met with more water. Something felt wrong, his mind screaming that something terrible would happen if Sidon reached him, that he couldn’t let him touch him. In the water he was far too slow to move away, Sidon naturally swifter, reaching for him as Link tried to give another bubbling protest as his hand clamped around his forearm. Sidon looked to him, and their eyes locked, and for a moment, as he gazed into Sidon’s happy gaze, he thought everything would be alright. When the harpoon split through Sidon’s chest, the sharp tip brushing against him, he swore he could hear the scream that ripped out of him and sent bubbles surging to the surface. The light left Sidon’s eyes, and the rope on the end of the harpoon yanked, Link feeling as though his limbs were stone as he tried to reach, tried to grab him. His hand fumbled, brushing Sidon’s fingertips, his mouth caught in a scream, this couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t let him die, don’t---

 “Gah!” Breathing hard, sweat dripping down his brow, Link shook himself from the remnants of his nightmare, his heart pounding. Skin clammy and sweat-slicked, for a moment did he fear that the sweat was in fact water from being dragged out, though a quick look around reassured him that it was morning. It was morning, and it had all just been a dream.

 Just a dream.

 Counting each breath, fingers massaging his thighs as he tried to calm himself down, nearly did he not notice the guard shifting to the door, peering in.

 “Prince Sidon awaits you at the mouth of the Domain, Champion.” Pausing, feeling somewhat embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable moment, with a quick nod, Link flipped back his blanket and moved to dress. ”Thank you,” he managed after clearing his throat, locking eyes to confirm he had heard them, and was met with the privacy he wanted, the door shut. ”It will be fine,” he muttered, pulling on his boots and fumbling for his shirt, pulling it on and reaching for the Zora Armor to lay on top. ”It will be… Fine.”

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

 The morning was cold, damp, and dark. Even when knowing the sun had risen, every once in awhile during his trek to meet up with Sidon, Link glanced again at the sky to ensure it wasn’t actually night. The rainclouds had only grown darker, thunder rumbling, and once, when he took another glance up, he watched lightning crack across the sky. Impulse commanded him to double-check that he had no weapons that would draw the lightning close, and for a half-second, he wondered if the shock arrows would lure over the lightning. If he could command the lightning with these arrows, would he be able to conquer Vah Ruta more easily?

 Unwittingly did he cross the threshold to the reservoir, looking around at his new surroundings and casting a lingering stare back. Easily could he turn around and vanish, leaving the call to action unanswered and go back to his horse and run. He was more than capable of hiding from the Calamity, and with his memories gone, what ties did he have that made him morally obligated to help Zelda? His choices laid out before him, Link gazed upon the path to freedom, the path that would take him away from what may very kill him, and turned his back on it, marching into the heart of the East Reservoir Lake.

[captainband]

page//genesis pt. one

WATSON: Who would you say inspired your group most?

PAGE: Queen.  I really had a thing for Freddie, and Paisley had a thing for Brian.

BARNES: I think all of us had a thing for Brian.

[Laughter from the group]

WATSON: And you got to tour with Queen in ‘76.

ROGERS: Oh yeah. Really awesome moment for us. Arguably one of the best tours in our career.

REYNOLDS: And we performed for Live Aid with them, didn’t we?

BARNES: Hell yeah we did. You know, I think being there with all of those famous names was really how we knew we’d made it.

PAGE: Definitely. We’d just recently gotten back together when we performed there. Great concert, and great cause too.

WATSON: So, how did Captain begin?

BARNES: What, our origin? Well, we all had different circumstances that kind of brought us together.

WATSON: What was that like?

[Cue “Tiny Dancer”]

FEBRUARY 29th, 1972.

Tucked away on a forgotten corner on Park and 18th street lived an old, craggily man who owned a musical instrument repair shop, run by his most hated yet most affordable employee, Mr. Terrell Smith, who made it his line of work to get back at the racist Mr. Donahue in any way he could. What this meant was letting the new girl in town test all of the guitars and pianos herself before he deemed them ready to be released once more to their owners. Around three o’clock every single afternoon, the lonely yet lovely Ms. Terrance Paige Marsh came to the shop, found her place at the base of the piano, and began playing Elton John’s greatest hit thus far: Tiny Dancer. She’d barely gotten a chance to hear it before she was already practicing and mastering it, taking advantage of what records they had there to play it over and over again until the poor thing had just about snapped in half, along with the record. Mr. Terrell’s least favorite song--in fact, least favorite artist--would forever be Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. Nonetheless, the plucking of recently tuned piano strings made the streets buzz a little more for that single hour each day, springing to life from the drab and rusted parts of forgotten city. Business was surely booming from the talk about the city of a simple country girl having real talent. She’d barely been here a month, and already, the people were in love.

Yet, every single day, Terrie was greeted with the same response from Mr. Terrell: “You again? Don’t you have something better to do? How ‘bout starting with getting a real job?”

“Working on it, Mr. Smith. I’m getting close. Just have to wait, until.. You know, women can actually get a man’s job.” Her hair was wildly long—it fell down past her hips, tapering off into dull, splitting ends she was desperately trying to rejuvenate through various experimental home remedies she’d only heard of. Dark, heavy strands cascaded downward in uneven waves across her shoulders and her face, partially obscuring her left eye and casting shadows that got people shooting quick second glances in her direction and nothing more. Heavy makeup lined her face, foundation covering every imperfection, blue eyeshadow drawing attention to her eyes, bright lipstick making men fantasize in passing moments as she walked by. The origins of this makeup were questionable at best, but with no proof or evidence, she may have very well bought them this time. A better question would have been where she was able to apply makeup every day, but Mr. Terrell knew better than to ask. He could leave it to his imagination, seeing the way she worked, the way she could hustle her way into an establishment to use their bathroom, steal some food, even bathe. He could take a few guesses as to where she slept too, but he hoped he was wrong.

“You know that ain’t never gonna happen. You’ve more luck getting famous as a piano player.”

“I could be working here, you know,” she retorted, shooting him a glance before positioning herself once more at the piano.

“No. Girl, we talked about this. Mr. Donahue won’t be wanting nothing from you. Nothing but bad news. A harlequin.” Mr. Terrell shook his head just imagining, seeing the smart, young girl wasting away as some colorful prop for a useless man. Too many women ended up like that nowadays.

Terrie, jaw dropped, stared at Mr. Terrell until he turned to notice, then she scoffed and turned away once more. “I am not a harlequin. I don’t sleep my way to the middle.”

“No, you sleep your way out of homelessness.”

She rolled her eyes, placing her hands again on the familiar keys, prepping herself. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m still homeless.”

“That ain’t right.”

“Shit yeah, it’s not right,” she said, emphasizing with a determination that kept her up most nights.

“No, Girl, I mean sleeping around like that. I mean, shit, most women doing it anyways, but you’re better than that.”

She watched her hands, hesitation beginning at her fingertips, creeping their way up into her hands. “Obviously not,” Terrie muttered, and with a quick shake of her hands, the hesitation was shoved away momentarily, the quiet, dim interior reminding her no one was around. The melody was simple enough--sweet and elegant, the way most classic pieces she’d learned were. Her eyes would momentarily close, her shoulders relax, body becoming one with the piano and its gentle embrace. Mr. Terrell would be fiddling with another broken string, one tightened too much by the careless owner--easy fix--that could take minutes yet get hours worth of profit, and he’d watch her from the corner of his eye, seeing the way her movements coalesced with the music itself, a fusion between man and musical instrument which made the world a little safer in their one hour of power. Mr. Donahue wouldn’t wake from his scheduled nap for another forty-nine minutes, so the store was hers, so long as the slowly greying Mr. Terrell could work.

“You know what you making me think, Girl?” Mr Terrell said, now wiping the counter off with a partially dusty drag. “You gonna marry a music man. I can feel it.”

With a soft, almost voiceless laugh, Terrie twisted her body and her shoulders to move enough of her locks across to her back. “Yeah, right.”

“That’s what Mr. Elton John tells you. Yes ma’am, a rich, young music man. Best goddamn smile you ever seen. That’s who you’ll find.” And to Mr. Terrell’s surprise, he was absolutely right. The perfect music man just hadn’t walked through those doors yet.

Most often, customers never came in, or if they did, it was to get just a glimpse at the young girl making music great again, before leaving the store once more, uninterested in its contents and Mr. Terrell. Apart from the occasional jingle of the bell which unwillingly slammed against the door with each shift and opening, the room was quiet, and Terrie could block out the entire world, practicing and playing, praying that one day she could perform on stage. She didn’t want much, as long as it could afford an actual house, with an actual window looking over the city from the top instead of the bottom. She wasn’t even particularly fond of the city--no, she wanted freedom to travel the world, to see the seven wonders, to live an adventurous life with the imaginary man of her dreams. If she was extra lucky, she could play guitar around the world, get a record deal, find herself overcoming every single person who knocked her down as a kid, making sure she knew only the male artists were going to make it anywhere. There had undoubtedly been some inspirational women in her lifetime, yet it simply was never enough. Most women were content with what they had--whatever that was--but Terrie never was. Most days she spent wishing she weren’t a woman at all, but being a woman also had its perks.

The door jingle alarm system sprang, although Terrie didn’t particularly notice. It certainly wasn’t the first time someone popped in for a glance, and Mr. Terrell’s silence typically meant they weren’t really a customer.

But oh how it feels so real,

She was singing softly, something she only let herself do when she really got into the music, eyes half-closed to avoid seeing the room and remembering another person was nearby, listening to every single tune of hers.

Lying here with no one near.

“Goddamn,” she could faintly hear Mr. Terrell, suddenly empowered by his words of amazement. Energized, she fell away into her own world with each passing second.

Only you, and you can hear me.

The tempo begins to slow down, bringing the tension of the next words to their most literal sense.

When I say softly, slowly--

Tiny Dancer is cut off with the huff of the first word escaping her mouth, the movement of the keys halting to a dead final beat, as a man stands, looking over her curiously. Tall, handsome, and carrying a partially damaged guitar, still clutched in one hand, the man stares down at her for what feels like hours, and not even Mr. Terrell will save her.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice, you know how to play. I mean, really play. Granted, your singing was god awful, but your skills as a pianist.. They’re definitely something. You’ve got potential, Sweetheart.”

She was struck with fear, paralyzed with shock, and the lower half of her body went numb despite the active upper half screaming at her to run. She had just been crushed and also lifted up, wondering if only for a moment if Mr. Terrell had some possessed fortune telling skills that allowed him to predict her very own music man walking through those doors. This man certainly was both young and rich, and his eyes weren’t leaving her body for anything: not even Mr. Terrell’s not-so-subtle, “Speak, Girl.”

She started strong with a stutter, not sure if she was beginning with “I” or just stuck on vowels, lost in a skipping record “uh” sound, pulling her gaze slowly from the man to look again at the keys she once controlled so effortlessly.

“Whose piano is that, anyway?” the man asked.

Finally, Terrie could speak. “Mr. Garrison’s, I think. He left it a week ago.”

“Yeah, and if he ain’t back by tomorrow to pick it up, it’s Mr. Donahue’s piano,” Mr. Terrell remarked, coming from behind the counter now to meet up with the handsome intruder. “I take it one of your prospective new talents did that,” he said, pointing toward the guitar now.

The stranger hardly seemed to remember he’d brought in a guitar. Funny thing, Terrie noticed about the guitar: Gibson SG, newer model, nice polish. This wasn’t a poor man’s guitar, not in the slightest, and while the damage was reversible with enough time, a seriously incapable person must have placed their hands on that thing. This was more than just your average overly-tightened string. “What do you mean?” she asked, staring inquisitively at the guitar, trying to tear her eyes away despite being glued. In all her life, all her time in Mr. Donahue’s shop even, she’d never been this close to such an expensive beauty.

“That’s Mr. Grant Ward, Terrie. The Mr. Grant Ward,” Mr. Terrell said.

“I work for a talent agency that recruits aspiring musicians to hydra records. Only the best, really,” Grant added.

In a slow and dazed, almost drugged motion, she lifted her head again to meet the eyes of the talent agent. “You.. work for.. A record studio,” she said softly, processing.

“I work for the record studio.”

For the first time in the last several minutes, Terrie managed to crane her neck to meet the stare of Terrell, who only made it seem less real by mouthing, “See? I told you so.” No, there certainly was no way her music man had walked through those doors to give her a job like that, maybe even more.

“What was your name again? Terrie..?”

“T-Terrie Marsh.” Still terrified, she watched him turn his head, suddenly lost in thought.

“You got a middle name?” Grant asked.

“Yeah, Paige. Why?” She couldn’t think to do anything but stare and ask questions--she had a million questions, and not enough oxygen left in her lungs to express half of them.

“Yeah, you know what? That’s a whole lot better. Terrie Page. It’s catchy like that.” And Terrie wasn’t particularly coherent enough to complain that a talent agent had just come in and insulted both her singing and her name, more so lost and dumbfounded to the point that nothing seemed real anymore. She was beginning to think a name change was the least of her worries; hell, she could be coming back from a bad trip any minute, and she wouldn’t even know.

“Now wait just a minute,” Mr. Terrell said, finally interjecting to save Terrie. “You gonna do business or not?”

Without tearing his eyes from the young girl, Grant pushed his hand into the pocket of his suit, loose twenty dollar bills spilling out to send Mr. Terrell and Terrie both into a deeper, more permanent stupor. With a few twenties into the sweaty hands of Mr. Terrell, the guitar was handed over, the transaction was complete. “I’m sure that will cover it.” Neither of them could recover from what they’d just seen.

“Yessir.” Mr. Terrell returned to his safe haven behind the counter, eyeing the guitar closely now, another, “goddamn” being muttered from his direction.

She couldn’t seem to stand, pinned to the bench which kept her by the piano, the only current means of her existence. Grant’s expression was tense, eyes lost in some deep form of thought, before finally, “Do you have a job, Terrie Page?”

From behind the counter, Mr. Terrell laughed. “Does she have a job?”

A dark, deathly stare from Terrie met his eyes. “Shut up.”

Grant seemed intrigued by the display. “Well, Ms. Terrie Page, you happen to be in luck. I’ve been looking for a decent pianist for weeks. You see, I’ve got guests over almost every day. Parties, meetings, you know how it is.” She most certainly didn’t. “I’m looking to add a little atmosphere. And who knows, maybe it could lead to something more further on down the road. Something like that interest you?”

With nothing to say, apart from an audible gasp, Terrie remained silent, bewildered, and frozen. “Well, Girl, you gotta say yes!” Mr. Terrell yelled from the counter, his voice just high enough to catch her attention and return her to the real world. She’d definitely need a lot more money if she was meant to be playing so often at a rich man’s house--she’d had maybe three outfits left from home.

“I.. I’m not sure I can. I can barely make it here every day.” With that, Terrie finally came to her senses, slowly turning from the man to stand, grab her tattered book, and walk back toward the entrance.

Only for a moment or two did Grant watch her, letting her walk on, perhaps wanting to see how determined she was to walk away. Before she reached the door, he quickly made the distance between the two, grabbing her bicep and positioning to meet her gaze once more. “Now wait a minute.” With her finally looking into his eyes, he seemed to have her attention. “Do you have a place to stay?”

“I..” She glanced away, still tethered by his grip, but now ashamed and embarrassed to be this close to a rich man of any kind. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

With a quick nod from Grant, the atmosphere began changing slowly as again he became entranced in his own thoughts. “Well, since you would be playing so often, it would only make sense that you lived there.” With her eyes suddenly wide, Grant added, “Only if you wanted, of course.”

But how could someone like her refuse?

[holistic-grace]

Summer Storm

Inspired this post by @dirkwould. 

BOOM!

Todd groaned as the Ridgely shook, ignoring the spike of his heart rate before he identified the echoing noise as thunder. His arm throbbed where he’d once broken it, and the grey light leaking into his room wasn’t nearly enough to see by. With his first deep sigh of the day, Todd leaned over to fumble with a lamp, swearing when the apartment remained dark. He’d had his electricity cut off. Again.

Rubbing his face, Todd pulled his robe on and hopped to the window, hissing as his feet hit the cold floor. He stared bleakly through the cracked panel of glass, watching a drip from a reminder of the Rowdy 3.

The steady patter of rain distorted his view, turning the trees into blurry colors, the lamppost twisting, his road a murky river...with a blotch of yellow in the middle.  

Todd blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering if the events of the past few days had finally cracked him. The yellow blob bobbed around, and Todd’s curiosity won out as he pushed his window open.

The rain was much louder out here, his entry ladder slick. Todd sighed as the blob came into focus, at the same moment his psychic-not psychic-friend noticed him.

“Todd! Come down; this is magnificent!” The self-appointed detective was practically bouncing on the sidewalk, his enthusiastic voice easily heard above the storm.

Todd winced as rain trickled down his head and under the collar of his robe. “Dirk, what are you doing?” He yelled down, eyeing the dirty water along his window critically.

Dirk’s hair was plastered to his forehead, the normal reddish-brown almost as dark as Todd’s in the rain.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Dirk retorted, sounding indignant. “The Universe has given us a summer rain and you’re inside!”

“Because I don’t have a death wish,” Todd said, pulling his robe closer.

“A death wish?”  Dirk scoffed. “Isn’t that a tad melodramatic, Todd?”

“Yeah, well, after this week I’m not taking any chances,” he answered wearily.

Dirk gave a loud huff-a whole body affair-and rolled his eyes. “I’ve got a good feeling about this rain,” he informed. “Perhaps the excess moisture will lure Lydia or Rapunzel-the Corgi, that is,- or the puddles-” here he leapt into one, submerging his already soaked shoes- “-they might give have things inside them, and not to mention-”

“What about Paws?” Todd interrupted, thinking uneasily of the kitten-shark that was curled onto his couch. “What if the thunder sets her off?”

Dirk frowned. “Well, if it bothers you that much-”

“Will you two shut up?” A voice howled from a window below Todd’s. Dirk pulled an expressive look of shock while Todd winced as the slam of the window reached him.

“That’s the fifth time this week…” he groaned, thinking of all the neighbors who’d dragged Dirk to Todd’s door, a mixture of fear and exhaustion in their eyes as the holistic detective prattled on to them, oblivious that his comments on unfaithful lovers and deteriorating social lives went unappreciated.

“As I was saying,” Dirk continued, “if a Paws attack bothers you so much, you really ought to come down and join me!” He beamed, fully confident he’d solved the problem.

Todd glanced at the sky, then back to the kitten before a thought struck him. “Wait, is this another Universe thing? Do you know if she’s going to wreck my already-destroyed apartment?”

Dirk waved his hand. “I don’t know anything, Todd. But it’ll be worth it!” He gave his assis-friend a grin. “Call it a hunch.”

“Dirk-”

The window below shot open once again.

“Give me a minute,” he called over the resident’s screams.

                     …………………………………………………………….

Todd’s complete lack of ‘rainy day’ funds also included a lack of proper rain gear, so one of his least-ratty sweatshirts would have to do. He pulled the hood up as he stepped into the Seattle rain, almost running into Dirk, who bounced eagerly as he saw Todd.

“Well it’s about time, I’ve been waiting for ages-”

“It’s been three minutes, Dirk.”

“Who’s to say that isn’t ages?” Dirk said, looking his assis-friend over. The rain was already soaking Todd’s cotton clothing, and Dirk knew that unless something good happened, Todd wouldn’t be in a good mood. He pushed Todd over to the edge of a puddle before squatting down. With a sigh, Todd copied him.

“What are we doing?” Todd asked after the appropriate amount of time.

“There's’ a lot of animals in this case, Todd,” Dirk began, not taking his eyes off the two inch puddle. “And I was thinking: What do dogs, cats, and sharks have in comment?”

“Uh-”

“Exactly! They all like to eat fish!” Dirk flapped his hands excitedly. “So in order to both subdue Paws and attract the Corgi, we need fish!”

“And we’re going to find them in a rain puddle?” Todd asked, realization on his face.

Dirk cocked his head to the side, thoughts jumbling around. “Seattle is surrounded by water,” he exclaimed. “So why, in the event of a rain storm, wouldn’t some wash out and into the streets?”

Todd opened his mouth to contradict Dirk, but the usual spiral of the detectives’ logic stopped him. “I-I mean...I’ve never seen it happen, but maybe closer to the waterfront-”

“-precisely!” Dirk smiled, and for a moment Todd forgot about the rain drenching his sweatshirt. “If we gather some from the ocean as well, perhaps Paws will lead us to the bad people, and then of course-”

The detective prattled on as he sprinted towards the car, practically dragging Todd behind him.

            ..……………………………………………………………………

“I’m going to catch pneumonia.”

“It’s August, Dirk. And it’s your own fault.”

“Ridiculous,” Dirk stated. “Falling into Lake Washington-”

“Falling? You pushed me!”

“I thought I saw an orange fish! ” Dirk protested, watching Todd huddle closer to the car’s heater. “And hey, it was perhaps a different variation of orange, but we found the coho salmon nevertheless, which I am certain Paws will adore, not to mention the small sampling of trout-”

Todd glanced into the backseat, where the ‘small sampling’ lay in 16 separate bags that were currently stinking up the Corvet. Somehow, Dirk had managed to confuse a local ‘fish man’, (-”he brought a new shipment just as Patrick Spring was walking to the hotel, so naturally his goods are already connected to everything”-) into giving them his fish. Apparently, however, they’d taken too much and they’d been forced to flee to the car with their load while the man screamed and waved a giant bass at them.

“-and the best thing is that she might prefer them raw, which is good for us because I was actually banned from using kitchen appliances in my last flat after the Snowman incident-”

“Eyes on the road!” Todd yelled suddenly, lunging across Dirk to jerk the car away from a mailbox. Dirk yelped and held himself back as the car swerved around trees and other living obstacles.

It was in this same violent manner that they ended up back at the Ridgely, just as the rain began to increase. Dirk grabbed a few bags of fish and leapt out of the car, staring straight into the sky with a smile seemingly permanently etched onto his face. Todd rolled his eyes, grabbed some fish and sprinted for the Ridgely, pausing to watch Dirk, who was still staring in awe at the sky.

“Dirk! Come on, it’s getting worse!” He called, trying to ignore the fishy smell in his arms.

Dirk blinked and stared around before reluctantly following Todd, casting one more mournful glance at the rain bouncing off the sidewalk.

As they began the trek up to Todd’s apartment, he eyed the holistic detective curiously, as the man examined a fish.

“What was this really about?” Todd asked, his arms beginning to strain under 40 pounds of fish.

Dirk tilted his head, an almost comical confused look on his face. “What do you mean?” He said, quirking an eyebrow. “We needed fish for the case!”

“Yeah...I hope you know you’re gonna have to store some of this,” Todd said, thinking of his own dented freezer. Before Dirk could launch into an inevitable rant on the Universe accommodating his own storage space, he added, “but I mean, why today? And don’t give me that ‘hunch’ crap. We could have just bought this fish.”

Dirk was, remarkably, silent for a moment. He bit his lower lip as they climbed the stairs, traipsing through the narrow hallways with ease.

“I just thought...it would be nice to be out in the rain,” he eventually worked out, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor. “I didn’t get to see much of the...outside...when I was...well, you know,” he shrugged, an awkward motion with three bags of trout. “It’s nice to just….enjoy it.”

Todd blinked, his mind racing back to Dirk’s equally awkward confession on the basics of Blackwing as they’d driven back from digging up Patrick Spring’s machine. He pictured Dirk stuck in a cell deep below the Earth and shuddered.

“Well, it rains plenty here, so you’ll have lots of chances,” he offered as they came down Todd’s hallway. “And hey, maybe next time we can try Union-what the hell?”

“‘Union what-the-hell?’ Is that another lake?” Dirk asked, mistaking Todd’s shout.

Todd’s already damaged door had a new dent right down the middle, along with a piece of paper stuck to the door with a steak knife.

“Is it a ransom? Do the Bad People know we have Paws? Is it Lydia? Is it-”

Todd gave a long sigh as he shifted through the profanity in the note. “It’s the people downstairs. Something about an…” he squinted, “...’apple pipe?’”

“Ah, yes,” Dirk answered, squirming a bit. “I told them the reason for their clogged pipes might relate to their Black Market of rare apples?”

“An Apple Black Market? I-never mind.” He crumpled the note and went to push the door open. “At least  I didn’t have to deal with that…” he froze and stared at Dirk. “Wait, is that why you told me to come-”

“Come on Todd! We need to get the kitten-shark’s approval!” Dirk pushed the door open, Todd following behind, glad to see Paws pacing the kitchen counter and with no new bloodstains on the wall.

Dirk dropped the fish and immediately scooped the kitten up, cooing at the murder weapon. Paws mewled and batted Dirk’s face, causing the detective’s face to light up. “I knew you liked me!” He beamed.

“You wanna pick a fish for her?” Todd asked, pulling off his soaked sweatshirt. “And a towel, maybe?”

“A towel I don’t think she needs-”

“For you, Dirk. You’re dripping lake water onto my floor.”

The detective stared down at the puddle surrounding his shoes and shrugged. “It’s not the worst that’s happened to it…”

“Call it damage control,” Todd quipped, grabbing two towels.

“You can pick the fish,” Dirk said, scratching the kitten-shark under the chin.

“You sure?” Todd asked, surprised.

Dirk nodded. “I have complete faith in your fish-choosing abilities.”

Todd opened the nearest bag, scanning the contents through Dirk’s eyes. After a moment, he grabbed the bright pink fish, sensing the other man’s smile at the selection.

A few minutes later, both men had (mostly) dried off, Todd having to convince Dirk to let him hang his jacket up to dry, and the Brit wore the towel as a cape to compensate. Todd carefully cut the salmon up, Paws winding her way around his ankles. Dirk was practically bouncing in excitement, snatching the plastic plate from Todd and presenting it to the kitten-shark with a loud, “Ta-da!”

The kitten somehow managed to look unimpressed as she circled the plate, before she eventually took a piece, her white teeth gleaming. Both men held their breath as she swallowed, gave a small ‘mew’, and settled down to finish the fish. Dirk silently punched the air as Todd allowed himself a small smile.

“I told you it was worth it,” Dirk said smugly.

“Worth Lake Washington?”

Dirk considered the gentle weight of Todd’s towel around his shoulders, the dark warmth of the apartment, the kitten happily snacking on the ill-gotten fish. 

“I’d say so,” the detective concluded. “What do you think?”

Todd looked at Dirk’s small smile, and felt the last of the rain’s chill leave him.

“Definitely.”

[houstonlocalus-blog]

A New Local Film: “Nothing Really Happens”

Houston isn’t exactly known for a booming film industry, but local filmmakers Justin Petty and Joey Graham are breaking the mold and just completed their first feature length film, Nothing Really Happens, which was entirely shot in the city. Written and directed by Petty and produced by Graham, who also stars in the film, the surrealist comedy presents a unique take on adapting to adulthood. Following the completion of the film, Free Press Houston spoke with Petty and Graham about its conception, filming and their plans for a release.

  Free Press Houston: How did the idea to make a full length film come about and what inspired the script?

Justin Petty: It was around 2013. Joey and I had been making comedy shorts as The Straight Guys for several years at that point and I don’t think we ever officially called it quits, but there had been a general feeling within the group that we wanted to try something different. I was nearing 30 and the idea kind of originally came about with me looking at that and trying to make sense of what it means to be a grown 30 year old man, mainly because I certainly didn’t feel like I had any right to call myself an adult. That and the idea has always been interesting to me that there is a communication barrier between people that interact everyday simply because they are so wrapped up in their own personal stuff, or simply don’t care. I had recently watched the film Wrong by Quentin Dupieux [Mr. Oizo] and its awkward, surreal tone kind of struck a chord with me and, while very different from what we ultimately ended up with, it acted as fuel for this 15 page short film I wrote. I went through the script over a few beers with Joey and Richard, the other guys in The Straight Guys. The result of that was them basically saying, “This is a good start but what happens next?” From that point, I just kept writing pages and sending them to Joey. I had never intended to write a feature. I wanted to ease into bigger projects with a short film we could push into festivals, but Joey kept pushing me to write more and to see where this story took us. I ended up with a lot of pages. Well over 2 hours worth. In the end, we slimmed it down to around 90 pages and it had become a vastly different thing than what we started with.

Joey Graham: Please forgive us for The Straight Guys. But yeah, I was kind of done with internet sketch comedy around the age of 30 as well, and wanted to do some other things. I liked the peculiar vibe of his thing Justin wrote so I just kept pressuring the hell out of him to finish it. Still am really….there’s a few more things to do to finish the movie.

  FPH: How long did it take to complete?

Petty: Writing the script took about a year and a half with about 9 different drafts in total. Shooting took another year and a half and post production has taken us a little over 6 months.

Graham: Ugh. Too long. Luckily my beard didn’t go completely gray.

  FPH: How did you find locations to shoot in Houston?

Petty: I went into this project knowing if we were going to realistically be able to make a film, we had to work around what was available to us. So much of the film takes place in residences, parks and yards. We would just kind of come together as a group and talk about connections and friends who had interesting looking houses or access to fun locations and go from there. We did a bit of scouting for some of the outdoor scenes and scoped out a few parks around Houston. We tried to see what we could get away with quickly in public with a small crew while not drawing too much attention to ourselves.

Graham: Yeah. We utilized the Houston Film Commission a bit. But mostly just talking to people. We only did super illegal shit for one scene.

  FPH: Can you tell me how you found the actors?

Petty: The original short was written with a specific friend in mind as lead, but as I started developing the characters and fleshing out the story more, I realized we needed to go in a different direction. Our lead, Adam Edwards, had been a friend of ours for a while and worked with us periodically some music video productions. I don’t remember the specific moment we decided Adam was right for the role but we both kind of realized he was the only person who could play Dave. There could be no one else.

Graham: I told JP, Adam had the most emotive eyes, and the most free time. That’s like 80% of acting. A lot of the other casting was just cherry picking people we love from past comedy shorts or music videos. We had produced a few of Fat Tony’s music videos, so we had to bring him in as the talking mime. We had done a few videos for The Suffers so we snuck Kam Franklin in as a phone operator. And so on.

  FPH: What are your plans for a release?

Petty: Our goal is to hit the festivals hard in the fall. We’re planning on submitting to various Texas festivals for sure but who knows. Depending on the budget we have to work with after the fundraiser, we’d like to get it in as many festivals across the country — world? — as we can afford. The more audience members we can get in front of this thing, the happier we’ll be. We don’t have any official plans for an actual release yet, but we’d like to see where the festival circuit takes us and go from there.

Graham: Festivals aren’t what they used to be for indie film. But a true indie like this doesn’t really have a ton of other options. It’s a movie about a mattress store owner, not a documentary on Mattress Mack…which probably has, uh, some sort of built in audience.

  FPH: How can people see it?

Petty: We’re currently doing an IndieGogo fundraiser to support the cost of our festival entries where you can buy a ticket to our private cast and crew screening on June 26th as one of the perks. We’d like to do a few more test screenings around Houston to feel out how the film is received… maybe make some minor changes along the way, but we don’t have anything officially planned yet.

Graham: Yeah. Come to the screening. It’s a really weird movie. Bring drugs.

  FPH: How does it feel now that it’s completed?

Petty: This thing has been a labor of love for us for several years now and it feels super weird that we’ve finally gotten here. 4 years ago I never could’ve imagined we’d be sitting here with a completed feature film and it kind of amazes and terrifies me. It’s real and now people are going to ingest it. That’s crazy. The hard work of so many people have gone into this and it’s kind of a small miracle when any film reaches completion in tact, let alone one that was funded out of pocket and was made on nights and weekends over the course of multiple years. I want to thank everyone that sweated for this thing to exist.

Graham: Justin stole my small miracle line. This thing has driven me crazy, and it’s equally crazy to be done. I can go back to living a normie life after this. Thank God.

  Check out the trailer for “Nothing Really Happens”

A New Local Film: “Nothing Really Happens” this is a repost