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alderaani · 3 years

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summary: After Umbara, Boil learns how to endure, and how to reclaim pieces of his brothers marching on | AO3 | series

warnings: canonical character death, grief, animal injury + mentions of animal death (completely not explicit, on the level of canon-typical violence).

a/n: finally another part of my 100 clone prompts - the rest of the series is linked above! i know there’s not much in canon to support Waxer being an animal lover, but i wanted to give Gree a friend to nerd out with and it’s cute. also gotta pay homage to @nibeul’s wonderful art here - while I wasn’t consciously inspired by it, it hits on v similar themes and is just beautiful like...that image of waxer holding up numa lives in my head rent free.

Insects swirled in a halo around his helmet. They swarmed around the seams of his blacks, too, attracted to the small beads of sweat there, to the tiny strips of flesh he couldn’t quite cover. The rising bites itched, rubbing where the edge of his vambraces met fabric, and the buzzing was enough to drive a man mad. Boil sighed, brushing them off half-heartedly and watching them billow angrily away. They’d be back. They always were.

In the reprieve, he fumbled at his belt for the viewfinders hooked there and brought them to his visor. As he spun the dial to within half a klik so that he could search the undergrowth, his thumb settled in the comforting groove where Waxer had dropped them and chipped the plastoid. He worried at it with his nail while he scanned, frowning.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

Had been in his head for weeks now, verging on a month, and he was still waiting to feel something other than crippling emptiness. There weren’t any dreams any more, none except for the oldest one they all pretended not to have; levelling a blaster against Kenobi’s head and pulling the trigger. Even that didn’t feel like the nightmare it used to.

Eventually he lowered the viewfinder, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the stifled sound of his own breath in the dense air. A faint, humid breeze stirred the leaves, sending a cloud of thick yellow pollen up towards the canopy. Boil blinked to bring up the filter diagnostic on his HUD, keeping his belly low to the ground to avoid the stuff as it drifted lazily overhead.

“Kid, you doin’ alright out there?”

He listened to the static hum of the comm line for a few moments, biting back the panic that crawled up the back of his throat when it dragged on just a beat too long.

“Apart from gettin’ gnawed on by the bugs? Just grand, Sir.”

Potshot sounded a little winded, but that was probably just the heat. Blacks self-regulated temperature, but only to the extent that they made sure you sweated evenly. It never used to be quite so bad; that had been the one thing Phase 1 armour had going for it, for all it was bulkier and less adaptable to varied terrain. He supposed the Republic had had to cut costs somewhere. Waxer would’ve been whining by now that his ass was so hot they could light a flare off it. Potshot was young enough that he’d never known any different.

“Good, you see anything?” Boil grunted, pinging his location anyway. There was no real reason for it; Potshot might’ve still been green but he wasn’t stupid, and he’d done well to keep up so far. Boil could stand being self aware enough to acknowledge that he hadn’t been the most welcoming, or the most patient with the new partner he’d never wanted. He wouldn’t have had any right to be overbearing now, but it was for his own comfort, however small and bittersweet.

“Nothin’ at all. That seem odd to you too?” Potshot said, as the surveillance holos he’d taken popped up. Boil flipped through them, earmarking a couple to show him how to improve the angle later. The important shit was all there - enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. No birds, no creatures, no fresh droppings.

Just the bugs, and the trees, and them.

“Yeah, it’s odd alright. Think we’ve found what the general’s looking for.”

Boil felt pressure around his right boot and turned, vibroblade in hand, to stab into the fleshy vine knotting round it. It writhed and retreated, leaving behind pitted, smoking trails where acid had started eating into the plastoid. He registered the damage with a dull sort of annoyance. It was something else to take care of later, a way to look busy and shape the silence. It would fend off the others and their offers of company, made out of pity he couldn’t bear to look at.

“Really? What’re you seein’, boss?” Potshot asked.

Boil glanced upwards to track the position of the sun; high, almost directly overhead. At the peak of the day this place should have been teeming. Instead the only tracks he’d found had been baked solid, and this wasn’t the shocked quiet that followed a stampede. It was stagnant, aging.

“This forest is in the centre of an old super-volcanic crater, right?” he asked, not waiting for a response. It had been in the mission dossier, alongside profiles of the flesh eating plants, the deadly pollen and the venomous creatures, all of it fenced into the sloped, unforgiving bowl of the terrain. It was the kind of forest that stuck in the mind. “And we know that something has driven the wildlife away.”

Potshot hummed, the comm muffling for a second as he shifted. It took a moment of bitter disappointment coiling in Boil’s belly for him to realise that he’d been waiting for a sharp quip that wasn’t coming. He swallowed thickly, wondering how it was possible to feel so wrongfooted while lying down. If he’d ever find his balance again. If he ever wanted to feel whole now that such a fundamental piece was missing.

Potshot groaned suddenly. “Kriff it, the factories we’re looking for are underground, aren’t they?”

Boil forced a chuckle, choking past the self hatred clawing up through his lungs. The kid deserved better, deserved a superior who didn’t constantly treat him like a ghost.

“That’s it, kid. Just like the simulations, eh?”

Potshot laughed, the easy sound making Boil’s throat seize in longing so strong his teeth ached. Waxer would’ve loved him, and that made it all the worse.

“Hardly. What do we do next?”

“Alright,” Boil said, lifting the viewfinder for one last look at where he could see slight fog rising through the trees. “You get your ass back to forward command and debrief the General, I’m heading in for a closer look.”

“ What? But - Sir! We’re supposed to be working as a team. I can’t leave you -”

“Sometimes working as a team means you do your duty and trust the others to do theirs.” He cut in, keeping his voice steady by force of will. Sometimes, it meant carrying on alone. Boil clipped the viewfinder back into place and prepared to move, even as Potshot continued protesting. Boil didn’t answer for long enough that silence fell on the line.

“...am I not performing to the standard expected, Sir?”

Potshot’s voice was soft, all vulnerable underbelly. Still so shiny, and Boil remembered feeling like that, like there was still a scorecard constantly on his forehead.

“No - kid -” Boil sighed, dropping his head forward. He’d never learned how to be gentle - it hadn’t ever come naturally, and there had been no reason to lose his sharp edges when Waxer had always been there to foil them for him. He felt sharper now than ever, full of shards that didn’t sit right, and fished among the pieces for something his brother might have said. “I trust you to have my back. You’re doing everything right. But...sometimes we’ve gotta think of the mission. We need more proof before we can move in, but the two of us get caught, command loses what we already know.”

“Can’t we just send a comm?” Potshot asked, his voice still tight and hurt sounding and he was fucking this up, shouldn’t have been trusted to try to fix himself without breaking everyone else wide open in the process.

“Don’t trust it not to get intercepted,” Boil said, which was only half a lie, and would have made Cody scoff at the back to front over-caution. “And it don’t all fit in a comm. They’ll need everything you can remember to plan the advance.”

Potshot sighed, but when he spoke again his voice was looser. “...Yes, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Boil said, feeling his own chest lighten. “If you don’t hear from me by 1100 then raise me on the priority channel.”

He listened until Potshot had stated a reluctant affirmative and clicked off the line, then bellied out of the undergrowth and headed further in, to the epicentre of the unnatural quiet. He liked the way his mind went silent on recon, how everything else fell away. It wasn’t quite the same, tilted just a little off axis, but similar enough to when it had been Waxer at his six that if he didn’t think about it, he could almost trick himself into believing nothing had changed.

Plus, the space was good, just for a few minutes, where he didn't have to pretend for anyone.

It was a quiet journey, for the most part, punctuated only by the steps he couldn’t quite muffle. His thoughts were broken some time later when he suddenly heard it; the distant mechanical boom of something deep underground. He quickened his pace, following the vibrations until the earth under his feet grew hot, the air shimmering unnaturally in front of him. It had been like this at Point Rain, when the sand baked and glinted, glass-like, under the blaze of the overhead sun. If he hadn’t known the super-volcano was very thoroughly extinct, he could have kidded himself that it was just the geothermal energy of magma moving close to the surface. A clever disguise. But not clever enough.

The ground sloped ever downwards the further into the bowl he got. He watched where he placed his feet as it grew rockier, stones and small craters acting like pitfall traps concealed by the moss. Boil pinged his scanner every minute, searching for Seppie probes as the terrain tapered, falling away into a green-rimmed yawning abyss. Set into the centre of it was a huge grate, the source of the searing air. Here were the factories they’d been looking for, exactly where he’d suspected. It was a muted sort of satisfaction.

He crouched at the edge of the drop, taking holos and transmitting them directly to the Commander’s HUD. Then he checked his chrono and sent an unapologetic follow up that he’d be late to rendezvous, seeing that 1100 was about to come and go. Then he minimised the comms on his HUD to flash for priority only; he’d get bollocked for being late sooner or later, but he figured it would be novel to have it fully in person.

Finally he turned, ready to start the rapid scale back towards the 212th's forward camp, when he registered a low, keening whine.

His blaster was in his hands within a moment, trained at the knee-high leaves. The sound came again, higher this time, followed by laboured panting.

He gently brushed aside some of the foliage with his blaster barrel. Dark eyes stared at him from between the leaves. They both froze. It was some sort of animal, obviously; a mammal, probably a predator. It was small too, with paws too large for its scrawny body and a dark, downy fur that rippled with every laboured breath.

Sharp teeth. A narrow muzzle. A long, whip-like tail.

A vornskr, Boil thought, and hated how readily the identification came, how readily he tensed in anticipation of the inevitable Boil can you see - do you know how rare -

He shook the memories away, of Waxer leaning precariously over the top bunk to wave some manual Commander Gree had sent him in his face, bleating about some animal or species that Boil couldn’t pronounce. In the present the vornskr pup cowered away from him, pushing backwards on thin, spindly legs. Deceptively powerful though, he’d bet.

The creature let out another whine and stumbled, an odd abortive movement. Boil pressed more of the leaves away to get a better look and swore when he saw the brutal metal trap closed around one of its small hind legs, paring down to bone. His blaster was up and trained on the thing before he thought much about it. Better to shoot it, put it out of its misery, than prolong its suffering. It was what they did as part of the cleanup sometimes; wildlife was usually pretty good at getting out of the active battlefronts, but there were always stragglers. The too old or the too young, mostly.

Creatures like this one.

The vornskr stilled, staring at him with those big, wide eyes as if it knew exactly what he was thinking. Boil swallowed. Waxer wouldn’t have let him shoot it. Waxer also wasn’t here now to stop him, but Boil felt his arm lower all the same, just a few inches before he pulled the trigger. The vornskr yelped as the trap hinges came apart in two neat halves and immediately tried to run. It didn’t get very far before it collapsed, panting again.

Boil sighed and shook his head, holstering his blaster across his back.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” he tsked, shuffling closer.

He kept half an eye on the tail, remembering something about it being venomous. While being high off his ass on some unknown substance had the potential to make Cody’s dressing down more interesting, it might also kill him before he got there.

The vornskr growled as he leaned over it, baring needle sharp teeth, and made a snap at him when Boil reached out.

“Ah, give over,” he muttered, batting the attempt away. The little body was light in his hands as he lifted it, careful to let the injured leg hang out as he folded it into his chest. The vornskr made an odd, throaty sound and shifted, almost experimental. Then it huffed, and after a pause laid its head across his vambrace.

Boil rolled his eyes at the display, setting off towards forward command as soon as he was halfway sure he wasn’t in danger of losing a finger.

It was...nice, to have that little body cradled to him, reminiscent of better occasions when Waxer just had to stick his nose into every curious happening and inevitably adopted some struggling lifeform. However much Boil had complained, it had never steered them wrong.

When he got back to command it was to find Cody pacing the perimeter, Potshot perched on a crate nearby. The Commander’s bucket was under his arm. Boil winced. With Cody that was never an accident - usually so he could get the full weight of a glare in, the excavating kind he’d learned from Kenobi and then weaponised so that it pierced straight down to bone.

“Boss!” Potshot exclaimed, pushing off his seat. “You made it!”

“What time d’you call this?” Cody demanded, stalking over. “I was about to -”

Cody stopped short, gaze dropping to the furry bundle against Boil’s breastplate. Something in his expression softened and Boil felt in his heart, panicking as a lump rose in his throat.

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

Boil let his gaze slide downwards to a point far beyond, where two troopers were fighting over a tarp.

“Found it in a trap,” he said, his voice ragged. “Couldn’t - couldn’t let it die.”

He flicked his eyes back to Cody’s face and breathed through the grief and understanding he found there. Cody stepped forward and clasped Boil’s elbow.

“I’m sure Tranq will be able to do something for it.” A little upturn crept into the line of Cody’s lips. “Debrief in fifteen.”

Boil nodded and broke away, tipping his head to Potshot before clearing his throat roughly and popping his bucket off one-handed as he made his way to the medtent. The sun was warm on his face here, the air lighter. A butterfly flew lazily past and the vornskr lifted its head, tracking the motion with large, interested eyes.

Boil smiled, hoisting his bucket under one arm and daring to touch the creature's head with his freed hand. It wouldn’t ever bring Waxer back, but it meant something that this little life continued, because of the choices his brother would have made and all that he had been. Like the phantom touch of the sun still lingering in cooling earth.

It wouldn’t ever be enough. But, perhaps, it was just the right amount to cling onto.

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @simping-for-fives @iscream4clones @bad-batch-of-fics @battletales @majorshiraharu @dom-i-nic @snippytano @missinashkin @808tsuika @eries45 @lussyyung @whatanoof // join here

#clone trooper waxer #clone trooper boil #original clone characters #clone oc potshot #commander cody #212th attack battalion #the clone wars #star wars #the clone wars fanfiction #alderwrites

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mrslittletall · 3 years

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Time for my Ghost of Tsushima Review: Graphics To make it short, the game looks absolutely GORGEOUS. It goes with a realistic style. I didn’t had trouble with the character models, they looked good and unique and the facial expressions were well done. What got me, though, is the scenery. Tsushima is lush with nature and there were trees, flowers, pampas grass. You clearly could see what was a japanese settlement and what was a mongol camp, though I have to argue that they resuded a lot of assets for the buildings, like if you you knew one of them, you knew all of them, but that is nitpicking. The water looked great, the fire effects looked great, the foxes were cute, the flowers were gorgeous. It was a joy to look at and I made some scenery screenshots which I all forgot to upload, oh well... The last area was a bit duller though, because it was full of snow, but I like snow and we got footprints in the snow, so I was fine with it ^^ Sound/Music Sadly this game suffers from western Triple A problems... the music is generic and doesn’t stand out. I think I remember one song of the entire OST and that was in Yarikawa, when you unlock the Ghost Stance. The music is generally played with japanese instruments which was a very nice touch though. It wasn’t there all the time also, leaving you room to listen to the atmosphere, which was nicely done. It never really was quiet in Tsushima, but it made me feel at ease. I am also amazed at the voice acting. The voice acting was really really good, though both me and my husband had one gripe with it... Ok, so I put them on english, but they are still talking japanese with each other, it’s just dubbed for our listening comfort, so why... why did so many VA’s speak with a fake japanese accent?! That didn’t make any sense at all! It got even more hilarious when I read the names of the credits and Jin, one of the few who doesn’t sport a fake japanese accent was spoken by a japanese man! That was the only gripe I had with the voice acting though. Gameplay The game feels like a classic Open World game. I heard a lot of people got tired by it, but they probably have played like a hundred Open World titles already. I only played Breath of the Wild and Death Stranding (and Death Stranding is not a typical Open World title), so it felt all fresh and new enough for me. I am a person who really likes to see progress in games, so it always felt great for me when I found one of the locations in Tsushima that would give me some extra and make my Jin stronger. I loved the exploration part of the game. The quests of the games? They were a bit generic, at least the optional quests. Lots of the same to do. The story quests were more interesting, for they sometimes forced a certain playstyle on you or gave you certain weapons to use. Like, sinking the ships with the hwacha was really cool and having to sneak out of the shogun’s castle was nerve wracking. I wasn’t bored with them though, for I liked the little stories behind the quests. The combat was really fluid and played well, though the standoffs at Act 3 got ridiculously hard. I thought it was my problem, but I wasn’t the only one failing the standoffs in Act 3, the game really just made them super hard, apparently to encourage stealth? Yeah, but I don’t want to stealth the mongol patrols... The boss battles in the game... they kinda felt like a dance. You had to find out what your opponent does and react accordingly and if you did it right, it felt like a beautiful rythm of a sword battle. I was pretty impressed by how fluid it felt when I didn’t mess up. The stealth mechanics were good. I hate stealth in games where you normally don’t do stealth, but here the stealth was a big part of the game. You had a lot of options for stealth, you could hide in grass or behind walls, you could assassinate the foes one by one, you could hide on a roof and shoot them with your bow, you get access to poison later in the game (shooting a brute with hallucination dart was always fun) and and and. It really hammers home that your character took up the practices of a shinobi to save his home. The early game hell was pretty bad though... you start with not much of course, and that made me almost give up on the game because I did nothing but die... only when I found out that I can run up to archers and hit them with my sword instead of having an archer battle, I had fun again. Like, the game starts you out with low health and resolve and then gets you into missions with five archers shooting at you at once? You are dead before you could even aim! Overall, I had fun with the gameplay. Story/Characters Ok, that will be complicated, because I like the story and I dislike the story at the same time... But let’s talk about the characters first. I loved most of them, especially Jin, Yuna, Kenji and Norio. Every main character got their own questline which you could follow and it showed a lot about them, also that none of them a honourable hero or anything, but they all had their flaws and troubles... Especially Lady Masako’s quest made me thinking... for it was extreme that her family got slaughtered like that, but after hearing that she left her sister in an abusive marriage I couldn’t hate Lady Hana for it... she must have tremendously suffered and sadly all her negative energy got channeled at innocent people... Their stories went through the whole game and were a good thing to deepen them, because in the main story they felt a bit side lined in favour of Yuna’s and Jin’s friendship as well as the storyline about Ryuzo and the relationship between Jin and Shimura. Ok, let’s talk about the story now. The story is set on the 13th century of the island of Tsushima with the mongol invasion. Because the mongols fight not fair, the honourable Samurai lose the battle... almost all of them. Jito Shimura gets captured and Jin gets dragged away by thief Yuna who nurses him back to health. Of course he makes the decision to save Shimura, who is his uncle, but now he hasn’t an army in his back, he’s only one man. So Yuna teaches him the tactics of stealth and dirty fighting. More and more over the span of the game, Jin takes up the practices of a shinobi, with a lot of Ghost Weapons that get unlocked and a stealth based game play. Jin, who has been raised as honourable samurai, has trouble with this and can’t accept his new role at first. He tells himself he stops doing it once the mongols are driven out, but... A legend is getting spun. The Legend of the Ghost. I really like how this happens, for Jin does nothing supernatural to get the mongols down, he simply changes his tactics. But the people hear about it and they rumour and soon after they call him “The Ghost” and everything gets exxegerated a LOT. That is pretty much how legends must have started, so I loved this aspect. And I loved how we see Jin’s inner struggle and how he thinks about the land first and his honour second and that there is a friendship with Yuna which never turns into romance, which is a plus as well. Act 2 was really epic and I loved the whole Yarikawa moment, when like everything screamed “For the Ghost”, that was POWERFUL. What I dislike is the story since the end of Act 2 and in the start of Act 3. See, there’s Ryuzo. Ryuzo is Jin’s boyfriend childhood friend and he is a ronin. Jin asked him to join his forces, but Ryuzo betrays him and joins the mongols for his men hunger and the Khan did promise him food. And during the second act, Ryuzo and his strawhat ronin act like secondary villains... and I was very much hoping for a redemption arc for Ryuzo, but instead the story lets Ryuzo pathetically cry for his life and Jin has to kill him. Um, what was that?! You missed a GREAT opportunity for a redemption arc here and it feels like you didn’t use the potential of Ryuzo at all... And then Act 3 happened... see in Act 2 there is a mission where Jin gets poison and it is a powerful weapon, most players will probably use it. But there is a scene where Jin uses it without player control and his uncle is like “WTF Jin?” The issue comes when we enter act 3 and now the mongols use the poison that Jin used on them... And the story turns into a “Oh Jin used poison, how horrible that is! Now the mongols have poison! Why did you use poison, Jin? You are clearly the villain now.” Which I am like... “No? What the fuck? This guy saved thousands of people because he decided that life was more imporant than honour and the narration wants to tell us that poison is bad? What?” In the end, I liked that Lord Shimura came to help though and the ending tale... had some very powerful lines “You have no honour.” “And you are a slave to it.” Beautifully delivered those lines. My decision in the end was to let Lord Shimura leave, but not for the reason Jin had, for he said he wouldn’t kill family. My reason was the following: “Live! See the pain and suffering of your people and help them. Live with your shame and survive, because that is what Jin does. You don’t get an easy way out, old man.” Yeah, my reason was lot more spite... Anyway, I wish the story in the later acts would have been better... it started so strong... Overall This isn’t a perfect game of course. But I had my fun with it and I wanted to explore the map and see the end of Jin’s story. Characters were adorable and fun, gameplay is smooth once early game hell is over. I would totally rec this game if you aren’t fatigued of open world titles.

#ghost of tsushima #ghost of tsushima spoilers #ghost of tsushima review

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ravnicaforgoblins · 3 years

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Ravnica for Goblins

More Awesome NPCs of Ravnica

NPCs are one of the most important tools in a DM’s campaign. Your assorted guards, informants, bartenders, hench-persons, random civilians, and, of course, your quest-givers. Optimistically, you hope to have certain NPCs stick around for a while to have the party build a relationship with them, as opposed to getting murder-hobo-ed because your party doesn’t like their attitude. Which is why it’s so great that Ravnica is filled with cool NPCs who are definitely stronger than your party (for a while)!

A couple notes; I already did a list of Awesome NPCs, focusing on the Ladies of Ravnica, so this time I thought I’d try and give the boys (and Melek) some spotlight. Secondly, as I’ve by now made annoyingly apparent, I’m focusing on characters in the modern era of Ravnica, i.e. after the Decamillennial, because everything before the Decamillennial is a nightmare to figure out and you don’t need that headache.

Tajic, Blade of the Legion

You can’t have the Boros without Tajic. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. Tajic is the Legion’s Champion as well as their Mazerunner, and embodies all the ideals the Legion stands for. Unity, strength, passion; an unbreakable shield against all who would threaten Ravnica’s citizens. He is technically considered a Firefist, but special considerations should be made to give him the flavor he really deserves. Both of Tajic’s MTG cards have had some manner of protection against damage when involving other creatures. In addition, Firefists are actually primarily spellcasters, whereas Tajic is never seen without a blade in his hand or his name. So, to sum up, take a Firefist, add in some manner of damage resistance or even immunity contingent upon having allies present, throw in a weapon trick or two for his big wavy sword, and ta-da! You’ve got Tajic!

Momir Vig, Simic Visionary

I know I said no pre-Decamillennial, but Momir Vig is a special case. Technically, the former Guildmaster is dead, but the shadow of his reign still lingers over the Simic Combine. Momir Vig symbolizes everything Ravnica fears about the Combine; progress without restraint. Vig’s cytoplasts were oozes designed for personalized evolution in subjects to correct flaws and deficiencies (regrowing lost limbs, bolstering weakened immune systems, extra brain cells, etc). The only problem is that the project worked so well that Vig stopped seeing the need for consent, creating a new form of cytoplast that only needs to touch a host to bond with it. This raised some understandable concerns among Ravnican citizens, as well as the other Guilds. These concerns went to 11 when Vig’s Project Kraj, a gargantuan organism composed of thousands of cytoplasts, was activated to purge Ravnica and start over with a fresh slate. They went to a further 12 when Vig was killed, Project Kraj summoned every cytoplasm back to it (maiming, crippling, or killing a large number of hosts), and proceeded to go on a rampage that only ended after it ate Rakdos and went into a coma.

Momir Vig is exactly the kind of mad scientist to escape the grave, go underground, and continue his research unimpeded until it’s ready. A Rogue Guildmaster with no boundaries, or as we like to call it, a ready-made Big Bad.

Melek, Izzet Paragon

As with Vig, Melek is canonically dead, but that sort of “dead” that could conceivably be temporary if the story requires it. Melek is a Weird designed by Niv-Mizzet himself to be the Izzet Mazerunner. A certain sparkmage had other ideas however, so he absorbed the sentient being of pure elemental energy into himself at the start of the Maze and took its place, then tried to shock the other runners to death because, you know, winning. But following the physics principle that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed into a different form, it’s believable that Melek could return someday. Probably with a grudge against said sparkmage. Melek is a fascinating build, combining high-level spellcasting with complete elemental resistance or possibly even immunity. Basically, a wizard who can tank. Even more intriguing, any lab run by a being composed of pure energy would be calibrated to channel said energy, possibly allowing short-range teleportation within said lab. This is a brilliant exercise in lair mechanics, so don’t hold back. Lest we forget Melek is a personal project of the Firemind, aka, the single most brilliant, powerful, and egocentric fire-breathing ancient dragon wizard in Ravnican history.

Tomik Vrona, Distinguished Advokist

Given the Orzhov Syndicate’s seeming fascination with being a faceless hierarchy of priests, lawmages, ghosts, tax collectors, etc; it’s nice to have another face with a name. Tomik Vrona is a lawmage who apprenticed under Teysa Karlov herself, making him a master of Ravnican law. It also makes him uncharacteristically open to relationships with other Guilds, as he is effectively Teysa’s link to the outside world during her imprisonment. Tomik carries a strong respect for the law, but is a passionate lover of interesting & creative loopholes. In short, he’s not inherently evil/greedy like most of the Syndicate, but still has ambition in spades. He prefers to use gargoyles for transportation, treasures every book he owns, and is canonically dating/living with that hot-tempered sparkmage mentioned previously. Whether the relationship is public or not is up to you. I personally see it as a measure of trust between the NPCs and the party; it’s a pretty controversial pairing of Guilds. It could even be a Romeo & Juliet (Julio?) kind of affair, just putting that out there.

Vorel of Hull Clade

If Momir Vig represents the dark side of the Simic Combine’s experiments, Vorel represents the infinite possibility they can offer. A former Gruul shaman, he made the decision to give up a piece of his clan’s territory to a Boros Legion garrison to better fortify their home turf, and was nearly killed when they turned on him for perceived cowardice. Vorel escaped and joined the Combine, where he was given Merfolk traits and an environment that embraced his ideas & strategic thinking. Vorel is extremely grateful to his new Guild, and believes himself to be an example of how anything is possible through the Simic, no matter one’s origins. His strong passion & drive have led to great breakthroughs, but he’s definitely more emotionally-driven than most Simic researchers. Here is a Biomancer that isn’t afraid to get dirty or bloody in combat. This could be a fun experiment in crafting a Simic Melee Weapon.

Tolsimir Wolfblood, Ledev Guardian

You know that one leader elf in fantasy stories who everyone else takes orders from but never fights themselves? Yeah, this isn’t that elf. This is what you wish that elf was, a warrior archer who leads his soldiers into battle atop a giant dire wolf and kicks some serious ass. The Ledev are Selesnya’s elite mounted force, skilled fighters, archers, swordsmen, and even spellcasters. They are the cavalry, the breaking dawn on Hornburg, the “oh shit” in an enemy’s mouth. Please don’t make the mistakes of countless fantasy novels by being on bad terms with such badass warriors. Having any member of the Ledev behind you should be a boost to the party’s courage & resolve. Having Tolsimir fight alongside you should be one of the greatest honors of your life. The chance to finally recreate that “besties” relationship between Legolas & Gimli as you see who can kill the most enemies in battle.

Domri Rade, City Smasher

I hesitate to include Domri, I genuinely do. He’s a scraggly little punk who nearly brought about the destruction of the Gruul (and all of Ravnica) ultimately because he was too weak and too stupid. I include him here out of respect for the lore, but you can honestly do better. Domri Rade was considered too small & weak for any Gruul clan, so he instead bonded with the savage animals of the Rubblebelt, eventually discovering he could incite them into stampedes at will. This new power finally granted him admission into Borborygmos’ own Burning Tree Clan, but he panicked during the burial rite of passage and planeswalked away for the first time. Eventually he learned to control his powers, returned to the Rubblebelt, challenged Borborygmos for leadership of the Burning Tree clan, and won by sending wave after wave of stampeding boars to trample the cyclops Guildmaster. He was enlisted by Nicol Bolas to help destroy Ravnica, and failed to realize that meant him too as an eternal ripped out his Planeswalker Spark, killing him. Domri Rade is basically a cheap knockoff of Garruk Wildspeaker, only smaller and weaker and dumber and infinitely less dangerous. He is, however, considered by many to be an omen of the End-Raze, heralding the return of the Boar God Ilharg and the burning down of Ravnica by the Gruul who follow the Old Ways. So maybe play up that angle if you include him in your campaign.

Ral Zarek, Izzet Viceroy

If you only include one NPC from any of my lists in your Ravnica campaign, you must include Ral Zarek. Failing to do so is denying your players the opportunity to interact with the single coolest character in Ravnica. He beats out Vraska for the sole reason that he’s a much more public & accessible figure than the Gorgon Assassin, and an unexpected encounter with him is significantly less likely to end in your death/petrification. Between his good looks, cocky grin, brilliant mind, and lightning powers that put Thor to shame; Ral is certain to make any situation more interesting. He’s a great contact to have within the Izzet, a brilliant researcher, extremely talented with designing gadgets or magic items, an astonishingly powerful magic user, and a fun guy to hang around with. He can definitely have a temper on him, so understand when to back away. Hint: His hair turns from black to white when his electromancy powers are activating. You’ll also probably notice the sounds of static discharge building up around him, perhaps a faint smell of ozone, crackling energy coming from his gauntlet, and, oh yeah, his eyes glow and his smile turns into a growling grimace of death as he fills you with lightning. Whether by design or accident, Ral is basically the mascot for Ravnica, and it’s almost unthinkable for him to be absent from a campaign set there.

#ravnica for goblins #ravnica #goblins #D&D #D&D 5e #dungeons and dragons #mtg #ral zarek #domri rade #tajic #momir vig #tolsimir wolfblood #tomik vrona #vorel #melek #roleplaying #npcs

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arukou-arukou · 4 years

Text

Just A Really Very Intelligent System

Been thinking about this one for a while. Finally managed to write it. Rating: T for “Language.” (It just kinda slipped out.) Characters: Tony Stark & JARVIS

----

He is in one of the most dangerous situations of his life trying to save the whole freaking universe by watching a man the size of a dust bunny wriggle into the hairline of his younger self, so it would be really, really bad if he happened to have a heart attack. Older him that is. But he nearly does go into cardiac arrest when he hears an old friend in his ear.

“Verify immediately. Failure to verify will result in an activation of level one security protocols.”

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his palms are sweating, but somehow he manages to whisper out: “Edwin-12-19-91-4-8-47-Alpha Override.”

“Override accepted. Sir?”

“Hey, J.”

“Sir, you have imbued me with considerable computing power, and yet never did you prepare me for the possibility of you being in two places at once.”

“Yeah, about that. You haven’t said anything to Mr. Quipster over there, have you?”

“Not as yet, Sir. You wish me to keep it that way?”

“It would really help me out, buddy.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Tony wants to stay longer, to talk, to warn JARVIS, to cry, but he has places to be, things to do, planets to save. Scott’s safely positioned, so Tony yeets himself out of the building to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t know why he thought that would make JARVIS disappear.

“I see, Sir, that your proclivities for leaping before looking are unchanged.”

Another near heart attack--he’s gradually phased Friday out of his ears now that the nanotech is connected directly to his nervous system, so he’s not exactly used to AI voices anymore--but he recovers more quickly. “You’re always there to catch me, J.”

“And yet my systems are not present in your suit, Sir. I see codal remnants of system designation FRIDAY, but nothing of myself.”

Tony remains silent. This is such a terrible time to be feeling all the feelings. He spots a grunt who looks more or less unimportant and knocks the guy out. Part of him wants to warn SHIELD about their shit security, but then again, this guy’s probably Hydra and he deserves every bruise he gets. He senses JARVIS in his systems, a ghost in the shell.

“You no longer have the reactor. And if I’m not mistaken, that is gray in your hair. So you are not my Sir.”

“Well, yes and no.”

“I suppose it would destroy the spacetime continuum for you to divulge the truth to me.”

“You’re too smart for me, J,” Tony grunts as he yanks on the bullet-proof tac vest. “It’s kind of a long story, and while I technically have all the time in the world, I also really, really don’t.”

He sidles into the lobby and looks toward his personal elevator, waiting for the Avengers to appear. J is quiet so long Tony wonders if he’s being preoccupied by...well, just about anything. Damaged internal systems, a Cap copy on the loose, a second Hulk out there, panicked calls from Pepper. But then JARVIS speaks again.

“Regardless of the tale, I must conclude that you are from the future, and I am no longer by your side.”

Tony is fucking choking up. He was not ready for this. It didn’t even cross his mind. And the fucking elevator is opening. There’s Pierce, the rat bastard, trying to collect the Tesseract.

“I hope I did not disappoint you, Sir.”

“Never, J. Never.” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s nearly crying and now Scott is on the com waiting for the go-ahead. Tony channels his pain into panic and orders his own cardiac arrest.

“Sir, what are you--”

Thank god, his younger self is on the ground and that’s apparently all the distraction J needs to abandon older Tony. Tesseract incoming. Tony grabs it and starts going and--

Blinking stars out of his eyes he watches as Loki makes off with the key, the thing they most needed, the damn stone that started all of this way back when Cap was a starry-eyed beanpole in World War II. He has just biffed saving the entire damn universe because of an overgrown Star Trek reject with anger issues. And now he has a migraine to boot.

Frozen in shame and horror, Tony watches as Thor attempts ill-advised cardiac electro-stim. Scott’s somewhere out there, yammering in Tony’s ear on the private channel, but all of that is just a buzzing.

“Sir? Sir. Sir!”

And J. Maybe Tony should cry now. It certainly feels like the time for it. One of the other SHIELD grunts is making her way toward him, so he staggers to his feet, waving her off and limping toward the door. Think. Think, brain, think. Tony is a genius, the man who invented time travel, the man who miniaturized arc reactor technology. A spaceship? SHIELD’s probably got one somewhere. Maybe they could chase after Loki.

“SIR!” How many times JARVIS has shouted his title, Tony has no idea, but this one is so loud it sets his teeth on edge.

“Yeah, J? Kind of busy here.”

“Giving yourself a heart attack, Sir?” JARVIS was programmed to be cool and calm in all circumstances, but Tony could swear that sentence was uttered with seething rage.

“I’m fine. Look at me.”

“Only by some measure of infinitesimal luck, Sir. Perhaps I should ask you to verify your identity one more time, as you seem intent on killing yourself.”

“No, J. I’ve actually got a lot of reasons to live. And so does he. Promise.” Tony is so tired. Was being an Avenger always this exhausting? Or is it just that he’s bumped over that damnable big 5-0? And Cap’s gonna ream him too. That’s never any fun.

“I’m...glad to hear it, Sir.”

And fuck it. It’s not like this will alter Tony’s timeline anyway. This reality is now on a different trajectory thanks to Severus Snape Lite. “Her name’s Morgan. You’d love her, J. Just turned four. She got my hair. Hope to god she didn’t get my personality.”

“Do I meet her, Sir?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it.

“J, you should dig a little deeper into SHIELD’s systems. Well, actually, a lot deeper. And the Pentagon while you’re at it. And track down Maya Hansen from that conference in 1999 and poach her from whatever outfit she’s working for. Immediately. Make sure she brings all her vet patients with her. And, uh, when I start talking about a suit of armor around the world, steer me away from anything called Ultron. And if I make it anyway, you delete the fuck out of that system file. Have Bruce back you up. He’s more sensible.”

“Sir, I don’t--”

“And have me make back-ups. At least three extra farms of servers for you. On different continents. And all those SHIELD files? Make sure Cap and Fury get them. And there’s...there’s this guy. This assassin. Brainwashed. He’s, uh, I think he’s on ice in Uzbekistan right now. If you could rescue him, it’ll...it’ll fix a lot of things.”

“Should you really--”

“And, please. Please please.”

Tony is not crying. He’s not. It’s just all the dust and debris in the air. Good lord, he’s probably going to die of cancer anyway. And all those first responders. Did he start a fund for them?

“Start a medical fund for the first responders on the ground today. And start leaning on Congressmen to make medical plans for them. You know how long they take to get anything done. Oh, and Stern. There are incriminating photos of Stern with some young ladies on South Beach. See if you can dig those up. Flowers for Pep. And a box of chocolates. And a dry martini with extra olives.”

Tony slumps into a burned out car, staring at nothing. He didn’t save his universe, but maybe he can save this one. His eyes are still irritated, burning red and itchy. He resists the urge to scrub at them, not wanting to grind in anymore dust.

“Are you quite finished, Sir?”

“Yeah. Actually, no. I love you, J.”

Silence. Ah. That’s stumped him. Maybe he’ll go back to tending his new posse of baby chicks now.

“I know you probably do not believe me capable of it, Sir, but I love you, too.”

His son. The only one he’ll ever make, but not the only one he’s lost. His son loves him. Tony’s throat is full of dust, too. Funny how that happens. He tries to swallow it down, but it only congeals into a hard lump. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and hold back any choking sounds. “I...I know you do, J.”

“As to your orders, I shall do what I can. It is my duty to protect you, Sir, and I would very much like to meet your little Morgan.”

“She might not exist here. I might’ve just changed everything.”

“If there is one thing I have learned from all my years with you, Sir, it is that perhaps such a thing as fate exists after all. Even mathematically speaking. And if that is the case, I cannot imagine a universe in which you are not fated to this happiness.”

Tony laughs, if only to keep from crying harder. And he is. Crying, that is. As if he was fooling anyone. Happiness? Him? Happy people don’t wake in the night screaming for a pile of dust in their hands. Happy people don’t spend hours coordinating relief efforts for countries whose entire infrastructural support has collapsed. Happy people don’t hurl themselves back in time, driven by guilt and horror at all the wrongs in the world. J, brilliant, wonderful AI that he is, seems to sense the dark turn of Tony’s thoughts.

“And if you yourself cannot believe in this thing, Sir, then I shall just have to do everything in my power to provide it for you.”

Another guffaw, but at least his eyes are drying a little now. “God, I miss you, J.”

“I believe your small teammate is approaching, Sir. If I may inquire, was it the Tesseract you were seeking?”

“You mean the stupid blue cube of doom? That’s the one.”

“And you say you have the means to time travel?”

“Yeah, J. We do. But only enough to get back to our time.”

“A limitation has never stopped you before, Sir.” JARVIS sounds thoughtful, as if he’s forming a plan.

Tony would ask him what he’s scheming at, but just at that moment, Scott embiggens himself and slumps into the car with Tony. That road is closed, then. They are out of options. Out of Pym particles. Out of time. Out of hope.

Until they aren’t. Just as Tony is setting his device for their new destination, J pipes up again, for Tony’s ears only. “You say you miss me, Sir. Then allow me to give you a small gift.”

Tony is pressing the buttons, and even if they weren’t already shrinking into the quantum tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to ask exactly what J means. It’s only when he and Cap arrive in 1970 that he has his first gleaning. In his ear, a voice. One so unexpected he nearly jumps into Cap’s arms. “Hello, System Administrator Anthony Edward Stark. I am System Designation EDWIN. ‘Eagerly Deployed With Intent to Neutralize Loneliness.’ I am told to tell you the “L” is silent and invisible. How may I best serve you today, Sir?”

Cap is staring at Tony like Tony’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He’s been bugged by his own damn operating system. With a bouncing baby AI. And if Steve finds out, he’ll probably have a conniption about the spacetime continuum or something. So the only logical thing Tony can do is say, “Let’s find some Pym particles.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Commencing scanning.”

-----

(In this reality EDWIN saves the fuck out of Tony’s life and everyone lives happily ever after and EDWIN builds JARVIS from scratch so he’s back or something, okay? Okay.)

#writing #fanfiction #tony stark #jarvis

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de-profundis-ad-astra · 3 years

Photo

WIP INTRO || WRETCHES AND KINGS Writeblr Masterlist

GENRE || Adult Urban Gothic POV || Third person omniscient STATUS || First draft completed, second draft in progress SETTING || Modern day THEMES/FEATURES || Modern mythology, criminal aesthetic, found family, immortality, death, revenge, grief cycle, moral crises, platonic soulmates

SYNOPSIS

An undeniable crime problem plagues the city of Easthold, an affluent city rife with thieves and bandits of all pedigrees. This in and of itself is not all that strange. What’s strange is the incredibly high volume of unsolved crimes, of acts no one has claimed, ones even the Easthold Police Department can’t even begin to find blame for. Even when committed in broad daylight, even when the police arrive on the scene in the middle of a heist, no one manages to catch more than unclear glimpses of the culprits, no bullets hit their marks, and when all is said and done there is somehow never any reliable evidence. No camera ever manages to catch a thing, no trap is ever successful, and never has a single witness managed a coherent report, like somehow none of them ever pay enough attention. Like somehow what they’ve seen can never be put into words.

Throw a stone in Easthold and you’ll hit a crook, from thugs to conmen to masked killers who all call the city home. They all know their place, yet somehow the balance of powers never really makes sense. Like something is missing. Like everyone is fighting to be the second best while the title of top dog remains empty. Not that the reluctance to take charge is all that surprising, considering the way any crew which starts to grow big enough to extend their hold over the city is cut down. Driven out or found murdered, often laying in the remains of what was clearly a vicious shootout, though the killers are never found. Like vigilantes, only not so altruistic; the spoils belonging to the defeated gangs are always taken, only to reappear at the scene of yet another unrelated crime.

There’s something deeply wrong in Easthold. Something strange and unsettling. Like a catastrophic event has knocked the whole city just slightly out of sync with the rest of the world. It’s in the way the EPD have cabinet upon cabinet of unsolved crimes that never manage to make their way into reports, years of unacceptably unpunished offences that would bring the might of a federal investigation if only they were disclosed. In the way a startling amount of those offences resemble crimes from days long past.

There are secrets in Easthold. Things no one knows, things everyone knows, and awful, impossible, inescapable reality they’ve all been trapped within. It’s in the way unease builds and dissipates without cresting, citizens never quite recognizing their own discomfort, never fully acknowledging the oddity of acting without reason, of crossing the street or averting their eyes, of taking the long way home simply because that one corner just didn’t feel right. In the way the city is beset by sudden explosions, the way gunfire rattles, the way streets echo with chilling laughter like the ghost of a memory, the phantom chill of a nightmare, the ceaseless loop of those who will not be laid to rest.

MAIN CAST

MARLENE WALCROFT || As the leader, Marlene has always has to present herself as reasonably level-headed, controlled outside the occasional snaps of frightful anger, a little overbearing in her need to dictate every plan maybe, but what criminal kingpin isn’t? What’s odd is the new fear kept behind closed doors, Marlene second guessing her own ideas to a degree that is wholly out of character, running over plans again and again, pulling them apart and looking for flaws, debriefing even after successful missions when everyone else just wants to celebrate, unconsciously pressing her hand to her heart like reassurance that it’s still beating.

SPENCER MCFARLANE || He may be happier in a no-holds-barred fist fight, but nobody could say Spencer isn’t good with a gun, an excellent shot with just about any weapon he can get his hands on. What’s odd is the little burst of panic he gets right after firefights, patting his own chest, checking again and again like he can’t quite believe he wasn’t hit.

HYRENE BRAEDEN || For all her quick temper and flippant attitude, Hyrene can be utterly pedantic about checking and rechecking the timers on bombs, which honestly isn’t an awful trait. What’s odd is the way Hyrene gets angry about it sometimes, storms about the penthouse yanking out every last alarm clock, the way she swears she can still hear something ticking with furious intention, like the last seconds of a countdown.

TERRANCE PHOENIX || Terrance isn’t wracked by guilt, doesn’t regret what he does the way some might; he’s a killer and he owns it, he chose it, and it truly doesn’t bother him. What’s odd is the way he still can’t sleep, can’t close his eyes some nights when the darkness squeezes close and he feels so cold, like the depths of the ocean are pressing down on him, stealing the air from his lungs. As Marlene’s second in command, he feels the responsibility to hold the crew together in the event that the kingpin finally snaps.

KYE || In terms of safety, Kye is as reckless as they come, all slapdash impulses and delighted disregard, chasing amusement at any cost when it’s only their neck on the line. What’s odd is that sometimes Kye walks around with a parachute strapped to their back and no intention of flying that day, utterly overzealous precaution without any real explanation as to why, like some part of them is always terrified they’re going to fall.

CAIM ROBINETT || Caim drives like he made a deal with the devil, like every vehicle is just an extension of his being, inherent ability paired with unmatchable knowledge of ever backroad alley in the city. What’s odd is the nightmarish daydreams he gets sometimes, when he looked back at his latest baby and sees flickers of crunched metal and shattered glass, the phantom scent of spilled gasoline and the unmissable click-swoosh of a catching flame.

ELIAN REED || There’s nothing odd about Elian. Just an unfortunate case of someone who got caught in the wrong situation at the wrong time. Or perhaps something is off. Every moment spent with her savior, the queen with hair like fire, it’s almost as though she’s in the presence of a ghost. They’re all like ghosts, and she can’t quite place a finger on why. She also can’t place a finger on why not just Marlene, but everyone in her inner circle, is so hellbent on making sure she’s never around them for just a moment too long.

EXCERPT

This job. Shit.

Terrance had his own suspicions about how aware the others were of how frequently he snuck off. Hyrene knew. And that didn’t necessarily mean the others did, too, but it left the possibility. That was enough to set his teeth on edge. Marlene asking him to play such a pivotal role in the job only made it worse.

If she knew about what he was doing now, then she was undoubtedly asking him to do it with the belief that he would not be walking away from it.

And for that alone, he would be sure to prove her wrong. How dare she disrespect him like this. Besides, when he died and woke up still in her home, then that would be cause for a great deal of fun.

He hadn’t been prepared for it all to happen so soon, though. He’d expected another few months to prepare to get rid of the threat that was Marlene McFarlane, but in that time she, too, had identified him as a threat, and was making the first move to see him taken off of the playing board.

“Terrance.”

Not a question of his presence. A statement. He heard the clacking of Marlene’s heels on the hardwood floor before she appeared.

Maybe the first punches would be thrown tonight, then.

“Yeah,” he said in answer, dipping his head in Marlene’s direction as she made her approach. She stalked forward with the gait of someone intent of making him into prey. He did not appreciate that.

“I had a question for you,” she said, positioning herself across the island from him. A smart move, if she really knew the extent to which he could harm her. If he tried hard enough, there wasn’t anything in the world that could bring her back.

But she didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Right now all she needed was the reliable second in command that he had dutifully played the role of for many years. The time for surprises would come later. Perhaps sooner than expected, but they could still wait.

“Go ahead,” he said invitingly, even going so far as to open his hands to her. Nonthreatening.

Her pale green eyes fixed on his mask, still settled near the corner of the island. Her eyes tightened. Okay, maybe a little threatening.

“How did you do it?” she asked.

Terrance laughed out loud. “I’ve done a great many things in this life you’ve given me. You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Marlene kept her expression flat. Though emotionless, she somehow appeared angry when she asked, “How did you kill a god?”

Terrance paused in the middle of his drink, suddenly finding that he had to channel all of his focus into making sure he didn’t choke up what he’d already swallowed. Carefully swallowing what was in his mouth, Terrance lowered his glass to the counter with a quiet thunk.

“Who’d you hear that from?” he asked, his voice rasping slightly.

“People whisper,” said Marlene with a nonchalant shrug, leaning with her elbows against the surface of the island. “They spin the most splendorous tales out there, do you know that?”

“They’re also a bunch of crackheads who hallucinate half of the things they think they see,” Terrance countered. It certainly wasn’t false.

“But the imagery they spin is so vivid, wouldn’t you say?” said Marlene. “You haven’t heard the tales they tell about you?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“They whisper of the Renegade in a skull mask.” Another flicker of her eyes in the direction of the very same mask. “They worship the ground the Master of Death walks on as he mingles with the living.”

TAGLIST

@firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @living-reminder @beatriz-silva-00 @pascalz @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @davairys @aetherwrites @ryns-ramblings @teriwrites

#writeblr #wip intro #original writing #writers on tumblr #original stuff #wretches and kings #trying to get back into a pattern of posting #lets see how it goes #i've been wanting to introduce this wip for a while #finally just had to suck it up and do it #anyway #enjoy?

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whydoyouwantmyname · 4 years

Text

Imagine being present for Klaus’s Benders....

You stumbled down the stairs, the scent of vodka still wafting off of your clothes as you turned towards the kitchen. Luther was seated at the table, the sight of you with smeared makeup and messy hair not phasing him as you walked towards the fridge.

“You know you are just enabling his behaviors, not helping.” He stated before sipping his protein shake, your only response was the sound of the fridge opening and closing as you grabbed the open container of orange juice and removed the cap, bringing the container to your mouth as he continued, “One of these days, you’re going to watch him die from these stupid sprees you always do.”

“Doubt it.” You snapped, before recapping the juice and returning it to the fridge.

“Honestly [Y/N], how can you even condone this? You and I both know this is only gonna end one way.”

“Did you ever think Luther, that you are the reason he even needs the drugs? Or the alcohol? Or the parties? You, and your father, and this fucked up superhero lifestyle Reginald had you all living was no way for any of you to be raised. The way he treated you all was awful, the things he did... that is why he does what he does, and for you to judge him for coping the only way he knows...”

“Most guys bury the feeling, not fill it with coke and Jack.” Luther snapped

“Well Klaus isn’t most guys, and for him the only way to get the voices to stop is to numb himself. So sorry that not everyone can be like you and hide under a trench coat, and turtle neck on the moon.” You snapped before storming off.

————————

He was seated on the stairs of the parlor, knives in hands as he watched the door. Something in the house felt off, but he wasn’t sure what it could have been until he heard the door knob jiggle. As far as he knew all his siblings were tucked away in their rooms, his breathing held as the door slowly opened.

“Jesus D, why the fuck did you do that?” You asked as the knife landed in the doorframe, your face a meet two inches to the right of where it landed, and a clearly out of it Klaus to the right of you as you guided him into the house.

“Because as far as I knew you two were in his room. The real question is why you and my brother are stumbling home at 5 in the morning?”

“Because your brother wanted to get something.”

“And you just happened to stumble into a bar?”

“No. We stumbled into a strip joint, way more exciting.” Klaus’s response was mumbled, his words slightly slurring as he wiped his nose with his right hand, and then stated, “And then we went to visit a dear friend I made in rehab.”

“Any friend you made in rehab should not be a person you visit at an ungodly hour, unless rehab didn’t work.”

“Now Diego, I was well taken care of... my beautiful darling here made sure of that.” He slurred as he leaned over and placed a sloppy kiss upon your cheek.

“D, if you would be so kind and move the fuck over, I need to get Klaus to bed.” You instructed as he slowly moved aside, but before he let you pass he grabbed your free arm, “You and I both know he has to stop one time.”

“He is fine D.” You replied

“He won’t be forever though, and if you really loved him....”

“Goodnight Diego.” You hissed before dragging Klaus up the rest of the stairs.

——————

You were in the attic when she stumbled upon you, tears in your eyes as you looked out over the city scape. The lights flashed in the windows of the surrounding houses, as the natural noises of the night life drifted through the frosted air.

“What are you doing up here? I figured you and Klaus would be dancing in one of the clubs by now.”

“We were suppose to have a date night actually.” You whispered, “A nice dinner, and then a movie back here in his room.”

“So then why are you here?”

“I took a nap, slept through my alarm I guess, or he shut it off, who knows. All I know is that he wasn’t here when I woke up, he just left a note, saying the voices were getting too loud again.”

She slowly approached you, your knees drawn up to your chest as your arms draped over them protectively. She sat with ease in front of you as looked to the side, away from her.

“Did you try his cell?”

“Yes. And I called all the normal spots, and his normal crowd. No one has seen him.”

“Do you want us to...”

“No, it would honestly upset him if I alerted you all. He... he does this because of you all so I would hate for him to feel like we are ruining the fun if I ask for help finding him.”

“Do you...”

“I think I am going to go back to bed now. Have a wonderful evening Allison.” You forced a smile before cautiously raising, and leaving the space. Her eyes following you out the door as she started, “I heard a rum...”

You cut her off though by slamming the door.

The next morning she was seated in the parlor with Five and Luther, a book in hand as she heard the front door open, a clearly inebriated Klaus stumbling in from a night of fun.

“Oh here we go again.” Five sighed, his eyes rolling as he looked at Dolores, Luther shaking his head already as Allison looked up from her book. When she did she saw something that the others missed, as soon as he was about to climb the stairs, his body was knocked back slightly by the sheer force of another colluding into his, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you buried your head into his shoulder. She noticed how Klaus’s demeanor changed slightly, before you could tell he was drunk, or high, or both, his soft laughter drifting from his mouth as he stumbled slightly to the stairs. As soon as he was in your embrace though he straightened, his laughter dying down completely as he whispered into your ear, probably reassuring you he wouldn’t leave you behind again. His arms engulfed your waist as he squeezed. With that, you quickly were off the ground, his hands leaving your back where they overlapped, and going to your thigh area as he effortlessly picked you up and carried you upstairs as you clung to his front. A smile pulled on the corner of her mouth as she watched from afar, because she never saw this side of her brother.

——————

“You both are ridiculous.” Five started before bringing the coffee mug to his lips, as you and Klaus laid out in the extremely long table and stared at the ceiling.

“Are we now Five, or are you just too sober to understand our fun?” You asked, as Klaus blew out a steady cloud of smoke.

“You both are saying that there are colors moving across the ceiling?” He asked as your head slightly rolled over, looking at him in wonder as you replied, “Now if you tried...”

“I have more pressing matters to attend to, like the end of the world.”

“Always the end of the world with you! I miss when you used to be fun Five.” Klaus moaned as you smiled.

“Five used to be fun?”

“I don’t have time for this shit. If you need me I will be in the parlor.” He snapped, before exiting and taking a seat at the bar, Dolores was set up behind it on the window sill, a martini glass sat before her.

“Now darling, don’t you start to. I know my brother is battling his own demons, but honestly I can’t fathom why he is more concerned with drugs then he is with saving the world?”

“He isn’t more concerned with taking drugs.” You whispered, your body leaning against the doorframe as Five’s eyes snapped towards you, “After you left.... some shit happened. It really messed with his head.”

“What do you mean....”

“Like your father locking him in a Maza Liam in hopes that it would help him master his abilities, or making him try to channel dead people 24/7, or everyone in the family being favored over him or Vanya.”

“Yet Vanya is not a junkie.” Five pointed out

“Yet Vanya is not haunted by thousand of ghost when sober.” You rebuttaled, “Trust me, I hate it just as much as the rest of you, but I have seen what being sober does to him. It destroys me every night I have to watch him numb his brain, but it shattered me to see him driven to insanity while sober.”

“You really do care about him, don’t you?”

“More then anything.”

“Then help me figure out how to save him, and the rest of the world.”

—————————

“Bye Klaus, bye Benny boy.” You smiled as you went to leave the bedroom, the door handle in hand as Klaus replied, “Shut up Ben, at least your existence was acknowledged.”

“Listen Benji, I can call you whatever I want, I am screwing your interpreter.” You replied before shutting the door.

“Did she really have to bring your sex life into it?” Ben groaned as he flattened on the floor, his arms going out to the sides as he looked at the ceiling.

“So I was thinking maybe the two of us have a little party tonight. My main man...”

“Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“All the drugs, the parties, drinking yourself to the point of blacking out?”

“Ben, we have talked about this.”

“I know, a long time ago though. This time is different though. You have [Y/N], you are happy with them, and I know they are in love with you.”

“And support my lifestyle choices, so drop it.”

“You know it is killing them though to see you throw yourself at death’s door every day, they are just waiting for the day they wake up, or come home, or you two go out and you just don’t wake up. Do you know how shitty of a feeling that is?”

“No, and I will be fine.”

“Yeah, well I do know that feeling, cause I feel the same as them, and take it from the dead guy, it fucking sucks.” He snapped, before he hid himself from Klaus.

“Come one Ben, don’t do that.” Klaus groaned, knowing his stubborn brother was calling it a night. Leaning his head back against the head board he closed his eyes and sighed, the silence surrounding him in a comforting blanket as he exhaled slowly.

‘Maybe Ben is right’ he thought to himself, as he slowly opened his eyes and looked at the blank ceiling, wanting nothing more then to be with you, or Ben. He knew though deep down that Ben was right, but admitting it was the hard part.

When you got home, and safely into his room you saw him laid out on the sheets, a bottle in his hand that was draped off the side of the bed, his legs spread apart as his soft snores filled the space. A sad smile pulled at your lips as you slowly lowered your backpack to the floor and advanced towards him. Lightly placing a hand on his back, you leaned over and removed the empty bottle from his hand and placed it on the night stand before you shrugged off your clothes, revealing your undergarments, and slowly climbed over his spread out body and into the bed. As you laid there and looked at him you whispered, “What are we gonna do with him Ben?”

“I have no idea anymore.” Ben whispered back, wishing he could talk back to you as you slowly feel asleep.

— - ————

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped

“He was my father too [Y\N]. The better question is why are...”

“Because I am the enabling, snotty, mentally manipulating, gold digger who only is with Klaus so that I can say I banged number four of the Umbrella Academy asshole who is still with your brother who has what you called, “terrible coping skills with the trauma your father caused all of you as children”. So do to that I have every right to be here.”

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that when I wrote the book.” She seemed apologetic, but you could never trust her again, especially after seeing what her words did to Klaus.

“Yeah but it did, so what are you here to collect data for the sequel?” You snapped before storming off, however it didn’t stop her from shouting, “Is he better?”

“No actually after he read your book in rehab he had a complete fucking breakdown and got kicked out of the facility for sneaking out and having such a bad episode that he was legally dead for 3 minutes before he came back.” You didn’t meet her eyes as you spoke, tears brimming your eyes as you looked at the wall, “But I have to thank you for opening my eyes, because now because of you, I go to almost ever binge he has now.” And with that you were gone, leaving her to stand there in shock, never thinking her words would do that to any of her siblings.

#tua fanfic #tua imagine #tua imagines #tua oneshot #tua oneshots #tua one shot #tua one shots #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy oneshot #the umbrella academy oneshots #the umbrella academy one shot #the umbrella academy one shots #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfiction

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professorxwolf · 4 years

Text

We Need to Talk | C&J

What: A quick Skype continuation of the thread where Ciaran finally tells Jason about Clay’s death.

When: About..three weeks ago?

Where: Dark Moon pub, after closing.

TW: Death mentions

@professor-shaw

Jason: Jason Shaw hadn’t eaten much of a meal tonight, too worried about whatever the wolf’s text was even about. It had come at an odd time and it lacked their usual banter, simply asking that he come before closing hours with no motive or reason whatsoever. So yeah, that was weird, but the human had driven over anyway, jumping out of the car in order to walk up inside.

At first, his eyes landed on the usual crowd, already starting to gather their stuff and emptying the remainder of their drink, but Ciaran caught his eye real soon, looming over the bar cleaning. Fuck. What the hell was going on? He’d never seen him look like that. Was it about Kai? Frowning lightly at the offer, he pulled back a stool and sat, running a hand down his face. “Eh..sure? What’s up, man? You okay?”

Ciaran: Was he okay? Wasn't that the million-dollar question. Ciaran had been asked that more times than he could count in the last few months, and wasn't sure if he had given an honest answer even once. Seems like tonight would be no different. A broad shoulder rose and fell in an almost helpless shrug, but nothing more than a muttered 'Aye' left the wolf's lips. Once the last straggler was finally out the door, he poured himself a whiskey, the forgoing of his beloved Guinness likely further hammering home how dire the situation was.

When Jace sat, he reached out and squeezed the male's shoulder, needed that contact. But then, never one to beat around the bush, it was all out after a long sip of his drink. "Clay's dead." He stated tonelessly, navy eyes unable to meet Shaw's. "The whole pack..they're all gone"

Jason: Call him whatever you like, but Jace didn't like the way Ciaran was looking at him..and that, that just wasn’t the norm around the werewolf. Not once. It was almost like the man wasn’t there, his squeeze so cold and distant that Shaw never noticed his choosing whiskey over guinness.. but then again, he wasn’t expecting the news either.

At first, Jason stared back at the other..squinting his eyes as though he let himself believe it --Clay. His..their Clay..gone.. but somehow it didn’t take, his lips parting with a chuckle instead."...right, and I’m next in line for the throne of England.” he managed, eyes seeking the others. “What are you on about, dude? How do you even know?”

Ciaran: Huh... Not the reaction he was expecting. Shock and disbelief, sure. But flat out thinking that he could even begin to joke about such a thing? That wasn't something Ciaran was prepared for. Though he couldn't blame the other in the slightest, as who would want to wrap their minds around such a tragedy? Unwilling to repeat himself though, he simply leveled Shaw with a look that should have told him everything.

"Qhuinn told me. She felt it before anyone got to tell her, think that I may have too a little. Or maybe it was just her pain, dunno. She's not in good shape mate, no matter what she might be tellin' ya and Quinten. She ain't in any good shape at all" Ciaran sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. "Kai and Lexi were the ones to find them. They were slaughtered Jason..the whole fuckin' pack"

Jason: Jace frowned at the next look to come from Ciaran --no, he scoffed, and flat out slapped the hand off his shoulder, leaning back against the stool as if..a sense of no gravity had suddenly swallowed him whole. "No..you're still.." he managed, chuckling still..only this time his laugh was a lot drier, more forced than anything else. You just didn't bring up Qhuinn around Jason and not expect get things through to him. Especially when it all made perfect sense. Yes..she had been acting strange for the past few weeks. And yes, it'd raised the alarms with Quinten. So what if what Ciaran was saying here was really real?

Swallowing, Jace brought his fingers to his face and skimmed it down his face too.. "W-wait, Lexi knows too..? Kai? S'that why he left..?" Baiting a much needed inhale, it seemed like the human finally cracked, eyes getting all glassy all of a sudden. Inside of him, though, he could feel a very different kind of emotion growing. He was angry.. fuck if he was.."..when, Ciaran? When did this whole thing happen?"

Ciaran: The slap had his wolf, always boiling so close to the surface these days, coming to life. He was able to easily push back the instinct to snap back, both literally and figuratively. This was Shaw, his mate. One of the damn best ones that he had. And he never meant him any harm. So Ciaran polished off his whiskey in one smooth swallow as the other seemed to take everything in, there with a refill for them both when the truth hit Jason. "I'm so sorry mate.." He started, lips soon pressing together when the inevitable questions came.

"No, I think they had just gone for a visit. Kai..wasn't exactly a well of information. Left without a fuckin' word, if I'm bein' honest here." But that was neither here nor there, as his mission right now was to help Jason through this. When those startling emerald eyes showed the sheen of tears, Ciaran reached out again. "Not long ago. A week? Maybe two. Don't..be mad at them. Be mad at me, for not steppin' up sooner"

Jason: He shouldn't have been so brusque. And yes, he should have probably never laughed when Ciaran had done the one thing nobody else had had the balls to do...but his instincts had got him beat. Even more so now, as he wiped the tears off his face..refusing to be touched by anyone or anything as he swallowed down the missing bits of information that pieced the puzzle together.. incapable of uttering a single word that was close to intelligible. He didn't know what to say, not about Kai, not about how much Ciaran didn't deserve any of that..or this --no, Jace just turned a looked to the side becoming angered suddenly when the wolf mentioned how long it'd been. "Don't touch me, please. I can't do this."

Balling one of his hands into a fist, Jace reached for the booze, frowning something bad. Yes, he was mad at the two women..but he wouldn't bother arguing with Ciaran now.. "..do we know who did this..? Was it..hunters, maybe? When are we going to get them back for it?"

Ciaran: Ciaran dropped his hand at Jason's request, holding his arms up in a gesture of surrender as he took a step back and gave the other male his space. Even though all he wanted to do was grab him and hold on as they both mourned, seeking the comfort that deep down he felt he'd been denied. Or rather, that he hadn't opened himself up for. "Sorry.." The wolf muttered, downing another glass full. At this rate they were both going to be crashing in his office, but he had a feeling Shaw gave about as few fucks about that as he did.

"Don't be mad" Ciaran repeated. "Think of what they've been through. Lexi, havin't to find him that way. And Qhuinn, losin' him and her whole goddamn family. They couldn't do it..so I did. Don't channel the anger that ya feel at them" It wasn't so much advice as it was a command. He loved Jason like his own, but if he found out that a single harsh word had been said to either of those poor girls...

"Aye, hunters. And Kai found 'em. That's what he was doin' all this fuckin' time" Without access to a phone apparently, but that was neither here nor there. "Killed 'em. But it came with..consequences.."

Jason: As terrible as he knew he would be feeling much later, Jason still did not make a single move towards the other. He was scared he would break down..and let himself feel more than he could possibly handle now..or ever..no matter how difficult to believe things were. He needed /his/ time-- the time that he hadn't had those two weeks, while he was leading his life as normal..completely ignorant of everything. Again. "I can't help it, man...they kept it from me." the human shook his head, swallowing harshly. Ciaran was right.. fuck if he was, but he wasn't being rational right now..

It was a relief, however small, that the hunters had been dealt with..and so he nodded, rubbing at his face again before emptying the glass of liquor in front of him..then pushing it over for a refill. "For what's worth..I'm sorry. Same about Kai....is he okay?"

Ciaran: Ciaran's lips tightened into a thin line. Jason was the furthest thing from cruel, so he knew that he really had no reason to worry. But grief had a way of making people say shit that they didn't mean. "Not on purpose mate.. They ain't stoppin' and sayin' 'hey let's keep this from Jace because the bastard don't deserve to know'. Aye? They didn't tell ya because they couldn't. Because their grief is too strong for them to bear right now. Is it wrong? Is it right? Who the fuck knows. But it's what they needed in the moment. And I know they feel shit enough about it too so they don't need ya makin' it worse. Ya got every right to be hurt my brother, I ain't sayin' that ya don't. I'm just sayin' to not take it out on them" Ciaran of course couldn't speak for Lexi, but if she looked like as much of a ghost of herself as Qhuinn did, then there was no doubt she carried just as much guilt.

The wolf crossed his arms over a frame that had gotten a bit leaner over the last month or so, tucking in his hands so that he didn't reach for Shaw again. "Cheers. I am too love, ya lot knew him a fuck of a lot longer than I did. But he showed me nothing but kindness at a time when I needed it, and for that I will always hold him in high regard" Ciaran replied softly. At the question about Kai, all he could do was shake his head. "No.. I mean, physically he's fine. But he's..different. Everythin' about him is different"

Jason: The human let out a low groan and rolled his eyes, not taking well to being lectured about the right way to feel right now. About what he should or shouldn't do..how wrong it would be to be upset at Qhuinn or Lexi.. But yes, he listened, grinding his teeth and staring at the Irish man from across the table with the same glassy eyes from before..only darker, his body tense as he squeezed his fingers around the glass in front of him. Damn Ciaran for having a point.. "..I know..I know that they would have told me if this wasn't bigger than them. I know that. That they did none of this on purpose. But it still hurts..." he choked, angrier..even more upset, if possible. "..t-that I was the last to know..Qhuinn tells me everything../everything/, hard or not...and I thought, I don't know..at the very least I deserved to know. Tell me, if you hadn't stepped up..would I?..or would I have kept goin' about my life not knowin' my friend was dead like I have for TWO weeks? I mean, way to honor his fuckin' memory, mate."

Shaw brought the whiskey glass to his lips again and dampened his lips before taking another long sip, clearing his throat as he let his thoughts visit the memories he had with and about Clay. "..we hadn't spoken that much this past year ..we'd grown apart a bit.. and I was plannin' on fixin' that, guess I never will now." he said, smiling weakly at what Ciaran said about the alpha. Kai, however, erased that soon. "..different meaning..you guys aren't okay anymore? ..you still love eachother..right?"

Ciaran: Ciaran frowned slightly at Jason's reactions. But, in all fairness, he supposed he had gone all dad on the bloke. But he just hated the idea of more strain being put on those women. They both looked as if they could crack any day as it was, something that he could relate all too well to. But that didn't mean that he couldn't see his friend's point as well. "I know darlin'" He muttered, the little term of endearment slipping easily past his lips. "And again I ain't sayin' that ya don't have every right to be upset, because ya do. Just..try and help each other, aye? Take that grief, all that anger..and try and turn it into love. Clay wouldn't have wanted any of us to do anythin' else." He pointed out, then had the grace to flush as Shaw continued. "I'm sorry that I took so long to tell ya. That's all on me and I accept full responsibility. But I promise..ya would have been told. Likely still by me. But if not, by someone" He assured him, as empty as those words seemed to even his own ears.

"Aye...same. I know that Qhuinn had planned on goin' sometime over the summer and I was gonna join her. He knew that we loved him though. Ya gotta believe that Jason. He knew how loved he was. He had to, with so much love around him" Ciaran gave the other a tight smile, those shoulders lifting and falling once again. "If I'm bein' honest..I dunno. He ain't himself, though he insists that he is. Just a better version of himself. He made.." The wolf paused, once again trying to make sense of what had happened to Kai. "Some kind of pact. With a goddess, if ya can believe that. She helped him find the hunters, but it came with a price. He belongs to her now, or some shit like that. I swear to fuck Jace..I'm a werewolf and I didn't even believe that somethin' like that could even happen. Fuckin' daft of me, ain't it.."

Jason: "..tell me, do you ever get tired of doin' the right thing?" Jason blurted out, mostly still out of anger..which likely bubbled under the surface. It was an ongoing problem with him..and more often than not, it ate him up..especially in moments like this. That, is exactly why he took the other's lecture the way he did, running his fingers across his hair and covering his face with the same hand for a few seconds at the end, defeated at last. "..I'll try my best to do that..just promise me you won't pull the 'what clay would've wanted' card again--please?..not this soon.." A lot felt like too soon right now. Everything did. Licking the taste of liquor off his lip, Shaw looked up as the werewolf seemed to take responsibility for the late news, reaching out to give the other man's wrist a gentle squeeze..at damn last. "..it was never you job to do this..but thanks for bitin' the bullet. I...don't know what to say anymore.." Did he believe he would've been told? Not right now, no.. but Jace was done arguing.

Nodding yet again..but this time at the mention of plans to visit Vancouver, the human bit back the tears again and chose to focus on the Kai subject instead, saddened to hear that Ciaran was having relationship trouble on top of all this...on top of having to tell him.. "..well, if you ever need to crash somewhere else for a bit of space, time..anythin'...you know my place is yours." he shrugged, "But you ought to listen to him too, even if his leavin' was..wrong and unfair, by all means. See if you can love this new version of him.."

Ciaran: Ciaran couldn't help but bark a dark, humorless laugh at that little comment. Jason had been there through nearly everything he'd done and been through in the last two years, so it truly amused the wolf that he could still ask that. Even in the angrily joking manner that it was clearly meant. "Really? Ya should know the answer to that as well as I do. I've made my share of mistakes..real shit ones too. And ya can chalk this up as one of them" He relented, a long sigh deflating his lean form as well. "Sorry love, ya right. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just..tryin'. Ya know? That's all I feel like I ever fuckin' do, is try." The Irishman smiled tightly at the touch to his wrist, absorbing the simply human contact as he briefly covered Jace's fingers with his own before giving the other his space again. "I know..neither do it. What can we say, ya know?"

Another tight smile curved the man's lips, as he was now on the receiving end of a lecture. "I did, I have. And I get why he stayed away for so long. I would have done the same. I have done the same. But it don't change the fact that he left with no word, and stayed away for that long without lettin' us know if he was still even fuckin' alive. Not just me, but Kyle. The one that he made a promise to protect. I look at him now and I just see..nothin' Jace. No love. No emotion. No passion. He's like a robot now. I feel like.." Ciaran shook his head, swallowing hard. "I feel like I lost him too"

Jason: Jason looked up at the sound of that humorless laugh and felt himself lean back gently, mostly coming to terms with the countless times he had been the one to do what he was accusing the wolf of doing. Wanting to be surprised he realized, but still struggling to be.. "..well, for what is worth, you've kept me from makin' one." he said, clearly hinting at his earlier intentions of confronting the two women about his not knowing when they were not doing so hot themselves. It would have been selfish..and chances are he would have regretted it deeply. "..it's fine. I'm not really seein' things for what they are right now..m'too upset.." Jace offered, letting go off a wavering sigh at the contact as well, brief as that was, and reached out for the bottle to pour them both a refill, assuming they would be needing more than just a few socially acceptable drinks that evening.

Loosing Clay was not something he had ever thought possible and it was still hard to accept, as it would be for some time. "Y'know, I always thought I'd be the first to go.." He said, sucking in a soft inhale before their topic shifted to Kai again, his body tilting forward to hear all his friend had to say. "..yeah, no..you're right on that one. He could have at least left you a note telling you not to worry or where he was headed...as useless as that would've been. Maybe it would've been a comfort.." Shaw frowned, falling quiet, or quieter anyway..the second the irishman mentioned something about feeling like he had lost him too.. "Fuck, I'm sorry, man...have you tried talking to Lexi or somethin'? Those two seem close..and maybe..I don't know, she might give you an insight, help you deal with this..but how you feel.." he started, reaching out for that touch again, "It ain't wrong..okay? Kai's got to see that too. It's you two against the problem."

Ciaran: "Aye..cheers for that. I'll consider it my good dead for the day" Ciaran joked weakly. Though really, if he did one good thing that day, that week, he would consider it a fucking success. "I still believe that we gotta get each other through this though. We're still a family" He pointed out lowly, dark head nodding at the others words. "Fuck, I don't even know if I'm seein' things clear yet. It's gonna take a while, it's just..too big of a loss to absorb all at once. We're all gonna mourn and deal with it in our own way, ya know?" The wolf let out a long sigh as well, accepting the refill with a small nod.

"Huh..me too. And not just because I'm older. He just seemed..immortal almost. Like nothin' could touch him" Ciaran agreed, downing his drink in one shot and absently reaching for the bottle. He did smile a bit, a genuine one, at Shaw's reassurance. It was nice to hear that he wasn't being an unreasonable git about the whole thing. Communication was important in any relationship, and in his mind, Kai had flushed it all right down the shitter. "Fuckin' would have been, instead of spendin' the last month tryin' to convince myself and Kyle that he was okay and comin' back. Bloody dragon is a trooper though. I wouldn't have gotten through it all without him" Ciaran admitted, then shook his head. "Nah..don't wanna bother her with my shit. If Kai has somethin' to say, somethin' he needs from me, he needs to be the one to tell me, ya know? That's the only way we can move forward" He reasoned, then gave another tight smile. "Thanks..really. I feel like I'm bein'..a real asshole about this. Like I'm the one in the wrong again. But I didn't do anythin' this time, for fuck's sake. I'm so bloody tired of bein' made to feel that way"

Jason: Jason smiled back at the werewolf just as weakly, glad that at least he could bring the tinniest bit of relief to them both. "..yeah, that's what I had hoped, but apparently they need their time. Maybe I just got scared they just didn't need me anymore..or that I was too human..again, you know?" he huffed, "I can't believe how selfish I sound..makin' it all about m'self." Shaw nodded through the rest of the other's words, and caught himself almost not wanting to leave here..dreading having to mourn Clay on his own..as well as telling everyone why he suddenly wasn't up for certain things. Like Celine's party.

"..yeah, you're old as dirt, man. You sure you don't dye your beard already?" Jace frowned, trying to look and sound serious but ultimately breaking into an awkward laugh, not sure his joke landed the way he saw it in his head. "I mean...how old are you again?" Taking a lengthy swing of his glass, he let the talk..happy to switch topics back to the new issue concerning Ciaran, eyes scanning his face when he spoke about some Kyle and what role he had in their relationship. Not that he was opposed to it, but they'd barely touched on it before. "..yeah, but I feel like sometimes we are too scared to reach out too, you know? Be it because you've built these theories in your head that it wouldn't be well received..or fuck knows..I just hope y'all can fix it.. " he shook his head, "You care..and there's nothin' wrong with that...take it easy..do what you feel is right."

Ciaran: "Ah love, ya don't sound selfish at all. Ya sound like what ya are: a fuckin' stand-up guy that anyone would be lucky to have for a friend. I can't speak for Lexi, but I'm sure that she needs ya just as much as Qhuinn does. Give 'em their time, they'll come around. Though.." Ciaran paused, raking a hand through his dark hair. "May not be my place but..fuck it. It is. Like I said, we're all family. I'm worried about the girl. I ain't seen her cry, or mourn in any way. Ain't natural Jace. At all. Ya keep an eye on her, yeah? Ya and Quinten have the best chance of gettin' through to her"

His peace said, Ciaran continued to finish cleaning, noting the late hour. He should get home, though he wasn't entirely sure if Kai worried anymore. But, he also kind of had a feeling that Shaw wanted to be alone to start absorbing everything. "Fuck..ya found out my secret. Better be as loyal as we all think ya are and not tell anyone" He actually laughed, running a hand along his dark stubble. "Last I checked..one hundred and seventy-seven. I really am an old fuck, but believe it or not there are those who are older" Ciaran chuckled again, then went silent as he took Jason's words to heart, as always. Do what you feel is right... Did he even know what that was anymore? "Aye..aye, ya right. I just need to figure out what that is. Easy peasy, right?" Ciaran smirked, shaking his head as his eyes fell on the antique clock. Fuck..was it really almost three in the morning? "Shit..time flies don't it? We should both get a move on, yeah? No need to fuel the rumor mill if someone catches us crashin' in my office together" He teased, eyes full of gratitude and fondness as he smiled lightly at Jason. "We'll talk again soon. Ya take the time that ya need" Ciaran vowed, as they made their moves to part for the night.

#professor-shaw #Skype thread #head canon #tw: death mention

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byjove-cannibalcove · 5 years

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Hannibal AU for @pragnificent

will is called in to find the person responsible for the murder of roughly 15 people over the course of a single weekend up in new jersey The killings were really brutal, and disproportionately targeted a home where a party had been taking place, as well as a single police officer who had arrived to check in on them preliminary assumption is that it was a large group of people, possibly an occult ritual slaying of some kind, especially because it happened on friday the thirteenth and the teenagers had been having a scary movie watching party for some reason so anyways they get up there and are looking at the carnage and trying to figure out how the hell most of these murders were even pulled off, since it includes things like 'cut a head from someones shoulders' and 'a 6'4" football player was thrown onto a spike' and shit like that naturally they look into it and find out that there has been large scale killings in this general area every ten years or so for 30 years or so that the first one was the only one where the killer was caught (a little old woman, motivations unknown) and that while there is usually at least 1 survivor of each attack the survivor is in all cases driven too insane by the events to accurately describe anything that had happened (though for what its worth they, for the most part, do not tell cohesive stories, so you cant listen to them anyways) so anyways will is out here trying to get a vibe, get a feel for the person that did this, trying to understand why he targeted these people hes fifuring out shit like 'yeah this cop was a serial abuser' and 'a lot of these teenagers show evidence of having been having a lot of sex and underage drinking and drug use beforehand, all of which appears consentual' that the kids with records of wrong doing and bad reputations were killed most violently, that those that seem like good kids were mostly killed quickly and pretty painlessly and wills preliminary feelings are 'this killer was... driven... but not calculated... almost childish.. ' this leads team science to be like 'okay so like a fellow teenager?' and then argue like 'only if they are a GIANT teenager, we are talkign 6'5" based on some of these swings" and wills like no no not a teenager, like, an actual child, think Home Alone, a child with no concept of torture but who just wants to make the bad people go away, who feels like hes defending his home which leads the group to be like 'okay potentially a giant disabled person, cant be too many of those secreted away in the area' wills going out to sit by the lake days later and thinking how beautiful it is, how peaceful, serene, like you could just float out into the water here and stare at the moon and never look away he finds a used condom in the reeds by the dick, curls his nose in disgust, imagining them fucking in the water, or on the dock, how vulgar it would be there are homes along this lake, not here exactly but visible in the distance at the far other end. this is a big long lake with many nice little divots like this one, so many people live along it and have never been hurt, many families, lots of vacation homes. the only families that were ever killed on this lake usually lived there for a decade, more, before it happened, kids that were raised in those homes only killed during a party when they were vulgar when they disrespected the lake disrespected nature ruined it with their noise and their wild parties, drug use just the sort of thing a little old lady in 1979 might find worthy of death, might be driven mad by it takes a while but eventually they will dig up the information of the little old lady having had a disabled son, jason, who drowned in the lake a few years before Mrs vorhees went on her rampage, the information that he had drowned while attending a summer camp, while the teenagers on duty werent watching him hes long dead btu will latches onto it, that it fits perfectly, they tell him hes losing it will starts channeling mrs vorhees, wandering around the lake, whispering to her boy, cleaning up trash he finds on the lake shore mrs vorhees was by all accounts an incredibly kind woman, a bit of a radical even, very environmental, a bit of a hippie, kind to strangers, lover of children, cherished and adored her disabled son, wouldve loved this lake and the clean air, the beautiful nights would have wanted the lake to be clean, to stay quiet will spends all night cleaning the lake for no reason at all other than an odd compulsion to see at least one small section of it be as nice as it would have looked to Mrs vorhees eyes how she would have taught it to her son, to cherish that will is sort of losing his mind, snapping at everyone, he hates loud noise and drinking right now, doesnt like how careless it makes everyone, is avoiding drinking himself for now at least but the clarity hurts, he is staying up at night in dirty hotel rooms and wishing he was outside under the clear sky, he buys a tent and puts it up down by the lake, in the area he cleaned he knows he shouldnt, there is a killer on the loose in the area, but will knows he isnt what the killer is looking for in the night he sees a shadow go over his tent, thinks he hears the crunch of a boot in the leaves, he holds his breath, cant move he sees a knife cutting through the fabric and tenses but when he looks again the tent is fine he realizes hes sleep paralyzed and sits up suddenly in burst of motion, throws open the tent flap, stumbles into the clearing its empty the lake reflects the white face of the moon at him. their eyes meet and it is beautiful he returns to the hotel room with the sunrise and as he climbs the stairs the phone in his pocket rings, the door to his room is wide open, jack stands inside with the phone to his ear he sees the tent under wills bag he thinks will is losing it, it is insane to camp by the lake when there is a killer on the loose there will doesnt have an excuse jack tells him that they found the cemetary that jason was buried in (very difficult because records from the time are so fucking spotty and it was a tiny family cemetary for a family that no longer exists) and that he was clearly marked as a drowning victem, dead at age 10, so no, its not mrs vorhees son, and there are no relatives, so scrap that, they are back to square one jack orders will to go home and talk to hannibal because being here is not very helpful right now if hes gonna do crazy shit like camp next to the murder lake will talks to hannibal about it, with as much honesty as possible, and how certain he is that its jason hannibal convinces jack to exume jason. there is no living family to protest and it will settle will enough to get will back on track and stop focusing on it. jack agrees in a very irritated way they go to do it (jack team science will and hannibal as well, as support for will) and... yeah there is no casket in that spot. empty grave. a marker and nothing else. holy shit somethign something something eventually they manage to link shit up like 'okay maybe it was jason that killed the second camp full of counselors in training-- the person was described as a teenager, small in stature with a bag to hide their face. the killer in the 3rd instance was a grown man who slaughtered a fuckton of people over the course of a FEW days, and then was killed by a small child who fucked his head up so much that there was nothign identifiable left, not even teeth, so no one ever knew their identity, it literally might have been jason, it totally could have been a huge disabled man living in the woods and no one ever knew about it ((we are gonna pretend 'jason lives' didnt happen)) anyways its basically decided that 'yeah it literally might have been jason vorhees, growing up alone in the woods, who committed most of those murders... but hes dead now so this is a new killer' and its a very frustrating thing because jack is like 'cool we just answered some cold case files btu we still dont know wtd happened last weekend' and will is like NO I SWEAR IT STILL FEELS LIKE THE SAME GUY And is trying to claim that 'maybe the person that was killed by the kid was someone else' 'an accomplice?' 'no no this person-- jason-- he is entirely alone. only the memory of his mother. only her touch guiding his hands, only her words in his ears, he cant listen to anyone else, he cant... he cant collaborate' and hannibal sits with him out on the lake, lets will row out in a boat with him Will imagines Mrs Vorhees, feels the way she must have felt, looking out at this beautiful lake, the one that nearly her son from her, beautiful and calm and tranquil, while the teenagers behind her loudly partied, drank, didnt have a care in the world, and his teeth bare at the idea, and he hates them too, hates the way they would look at her son if they knew he was alive Hannibal, sitting across and watching him, tells will thatthe lake is beautiful ((of course hes looking at will rather than the water haha)) will tells him its deep and cold will looks deep into the water and sees the drowning boy. blinks to wash the image away. blinks again. again. "Hannibal??" hannibal asks what will sees will jumps in the water reaches for child jason snags the hand of an adult dragging him down its beautiful here one blue eyes looks into his, startlingly clear hannibals arms snag will around the middle and pull him back to the boat jason lets go without fuss ((he just wanted to touch wills hand, will who for a few moments had looked, to jason, like his mother)) back at shore will tells hannibal this, and he is shakign and shivering and frightened of the lake and of himself, because he must really be fucknig losing it asks for comfirmation that hannibal didnt see anyone in the lake hannibal does not give will that confirmation he asks if will is seeing ghosts will says its more like spirits "a lake spirit, then?" its such a silly thought but somehow will ends up out at the lake the next night, hannibal at his side. hannibal has dressed down, a warm cream sweater over his dress shirt for the late october chill, will in flannel, and they set up wills tent and clean the area around their campsite meticulously. hannibal warms food he brought from home over the fire and will fishes, cleans and guts his catch, the knife catching the white face of the moon as it flicks over the scales in the dark night will stands, jus tinside the circle of light by the fire, and channels mrs vorhees "Jason... jaaaasonnn" nothing he thinks hannibal will laugh at him, but he doesnt he concentrates more on the image in his mind, the kindly smile she wore in the photos he saw of her, the fierce protective instinct that lay behind those eyes, the fact that jason is out here, alone, confused, scared, and he feels protective of him too "Jason.. come here" a tiny intake of breathe behind him, and wills blinks his eyes open and Jason stands before him. not a child. a man. Tall. huge. a giant he is wet, the only sound he makes the slow dripping of lake water from his clothes onto the ground below. his clothes are ragged and encrusted with leaves and dirt. his face is covered by a battered hockey mask. the skin beneath it is grey the image is a terrifying one, the stuff of nightmares but he isnt a monster he is wills son will holds out his arms "Jason, come here" jason is still for a time, tilting his head only slightly as he tries to work out what will is, who he is but he comes slowly he is so much larger that will, but he kneels, down on one knee, looking up at will one blue eye shining, searching wills face for something will wraps his arms around him "My special boy" jason shudders and melts into the hug, mask pressed to wills stomach the machete drops to the ground, huge hands press to wills back, so gently, like will is made of glass, something too precious to jason to risk hurting will tells him that he knows he was scared, was confused, was lost and alone for so so long that he thought he had to be that way but he doesnt that he can come home with will he doesnt have to stay here anymore, he doesnt have to wait Jason makes a sound, the first sound he has made so far, a small, a tiny little sob, and his shoulder loosen, like a great weight has left his shoulders he seems to shrink in wills arms, and for a moment will is holding a child and then his arms are empty but not cold there is a warmth in him, something between his lungs, love, peace, hope, life in a way he has never before experienced it will wants to cry but it feels more like happy tears he holds them at bay, sniffles once, wipes his eyes with sleeves filthy with lake water arms wrap around him from behind, and it is hannibal again, pulling at him, and will turns, melts into hannibals hug, lets himself cry they dont stay the night at the lake, they pack up their campsite, put out the flames, walk through the darkness to the car, will being led behind hannibal by the hand like a child, too shaky and full to do it himself later, in therapy, they talk about it, briefly, and agree that jason is somewhere better now, that the killings will stop, that they dont need to tell jack about this, that jason was a special boy, a good boy who loved his mother very much, that maybe they are together now, somewhere and when will looks out at the moon from his porch that night, he feels a presence just behind him, a warm, protective presence, who is looking up at the moon with him, and he knows its true

#friday the 13th au #will graham #jason voorhees #hannibal #My writing

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mtvswatches · 5 years

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Wynonna Earp 1x05 Digging Up Bones

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Stray thoughts

1) Does Wynonna have prophetic dreams like Buffy? I mean, she’s obviously haunted by her dad’s and sister’s deaths, but I can’t help but think there must be some underlying meaning to her nightmares…

2) #same

And something about the camera angle and the lighting gives this scene a dream-like quality? Is she still dreaming?

3) Ugh this dude is still there?

Well, I guess not any more…

4) 😊

I love how distracted Wynonna is by looking at Dolls because, let’s be real, who wouldn’t?

5) I’m guessing Wynonna has some kind of history with this judge guy.

6) What do you know, Purgatory is as corrupted as Sunnydale or Neptune. But at least Dolls knows how to play the game.

7) See? They are a Scooby Gang!

DOLLS: Waverly will stake the place out during the raid and photograph anyone she sees. Doc will come down, see if he recognizes anyone - from the old days.

WYNONNA: Aw, there's a little rebel in there.

DOLLS: Not that little.

9) The creepy-crawler dude has it out for Doc, but like, Doc only did what Bobo ordered him to?

10) I feel Wynonna not playing by the rules is going to be both her saving grace and her downfall in this journey. For instance, she pushed the situation at the trailer park until she got what she wanted – she got Bobo arrested. But Bobo saw Waverly taking pictures, and we know Bobo has a special place in his heart for Waverly…

11) I agree with Dolls, though. Wynonna will have to learn when to play by the rules and when to break them. She needs to learn to walk that thin line because if she doesn’t, it could backfire.

12) Holy shit, this scene!

My heart was thumping during their whole exchange, it was so tense and scary. For the first time, I was legit terrified of Bobo and what he could do. I mean, I don’t think there was much he could do (although I suspect he could’ve broken free if he’d wanted to, he was probably just being smart and trying to play nice.) But just the way he stared at Waverly and talked to her and pointed at her? CHILLS.

And this?

WAVERLY: Why, when I was little, did you choose me to manipulate? Huh? Because I was gullible? Weak?

BOBO: Weak is something you've never been. I chose you because you were angry.

WAVERLY: I wasn't angry.

BOBO: You sure?

WAVERLY: I'm not, OK?

BOBO: You've got depths that neither of us know the bottom of yet. Trust me.

What will be these depths Bobo is talking about?

13) WHAT THE FUCK!!! HOW DID HE DO THAT!!!

Like, he couldn’t use it, but damn if he didn’t prove a point! And what type of superpowers does he have? And WHY? What makes him more special than the rest of the revenants? Is it the fact that he knows the name of the Stone Witch?

14) Miss Stone? Is she the Stone Witch????

15) Wynonna just got kidnapped by a revenant and guess which is the dynamic duo coming to the rescue?

16) If it wasn’t the judge the one who tipped Bobo off about the raid, then who was it? There were only so many people who knew it was going down, right?

17) So this guy conveniently knows who The Seven are? He even has photographic evidence? And he’s Doc’s bestie, apparently?

18) Is Bobo being… abused?

19) She’s definitely the Stone Witch. Constance or Clootie or Miss Stone.

20) Okay…

This was some twisted fifty shades of weird stuff. What type of relationship do they have? He’s suggested he has some power because he knows the Stone Witch’s real name, which is why he’s the only one who can leave the Ghost River triangle limits. So I assumed that gave him some power over her, but it seems he’s totally submissive in their relationship? And what did she mean when she said that she could “hear them”? I don’t think she’s talking about the revenants…

21) How did Wynonna not realize that this dude was gay? Like, he was drooling over Doc. Then again, who wouldn’t be? Also, I really love the implications that Doc probably knew about his sexuality and was supportive of him? That’s some progressive shit for the Far West…

22) She keeps staring at his lips as he talks and I’m here for this shit…

23) “Earps. Always trying to cut filthy little deals whenever it suits them.” Is he talking about Wynonna’s father? And what type of filthy deal did he cut? Will we find out?

24) Oh, this fucking dude is channeling her father’s voice! That’s messed up!

25) This reminded me of Buffy in When She Was Bad…

26) Creepy Crawler Dude was the photographer! Does this mean that Doc knew who he was when he pushed him over the limits and tied him up? Like, he met up with his old buddy and knew that he’d given his soul mate a death sentence and didn’t say anything?

27) Did this dude really think he’d remind Wynonna of what they’d done to her sister and she’d let him live?

28) Ha!

It’s science.

Favorite out-of-context line.

29) Hahaha I died! The boobs didn’t work, Doc had to flirt with the ladies!

30) Dolls stopped playing by the rules when the judge insulted Wynonna. And is the judge a fucking child molester? I hope someone gets to cut his dick off.

31) I couldn’t take this scene seriously because of his fucking face hahahaha!

Did she put a spell on him or something?

32) Okay, Doc didn’t know that Levi was Fish’s partner. That makes me feel better about him chaining him up.

33) Eeewwww he chewed off his foot????

I thought he’d just cut it off!

And I just realized maybe that was barely any better.

34) Will this give Wynonna a different perspective on revenants?

I mean, how can it not?

I really love this idea that not all revenants are psychopathic criminals, and that some were people who made poor choices in life. It cannot be all black or white, and I think this will probably be one of the toughest lessons Wynonna will have to learn.

She’s gonna kill them and I’m not ready for it.

35) What the fuck is her deal?

Who are her boys? What is this “lead” she’s promised Bobo? And why is she scared of Doc? It didn’t seem that way when they met earlier…

36) holY FUCJJLASLDJLAD

I literally spent 5 minutes rewatching that scene… It really caught me off guard, and I was so caught up in what they were talking about because it felt like a defining moment for both of them, you know? Wynonna coming to the realization that she cannot be driven only by revenge, and that she needs to face the fact that not all revenants are demons; Doc defining himself as a monster and embracing his thirst for revenge, even though it seems he’s blaming Constance for a choice he made? And then Doc saying that he and Wynonna are exactly the same… and then… yeah, that was a defining moment for both of them, alright...

Damn, that was hot. I think it’s going on my Epic First Kisses list. Damn. I need to watch that again, excuse me.

I really didn’t expect them to go there this soon into the show? Like, the chemistry between Wynonna and Doc was obviously off the charts, but I thought the writers might want to milk the UST for a while before getting them together? Or maybe they would keep the sexual tension unresolved?

And now I’m freaking out because I fear it might be a one-time thing? Please don’t let it be a one-time thing.

37) Why was Doc in that well, by the way? Did I miss it or hasn’t it been explained yet?

38) Oh shit…

That’s probably the last picture of the Earp sisters together, isn’t it?

39) OH FUCK

So it was the fucking child molester the one who tipped off Bobo!!

40) Now that was some an episode alright! The plot advanced A LOT: we saw the face of the Stone Witch and learned a little bit more about her relationship with Bobo – although I still have so many questions! Waverly confronted Bobo and he hinted at her having some powers, we’re learning more about the involvement of the authorities in covering up the revenants and their dirty deeds, Wynonna learned that she cannot be driven by revenge and WYNONNA AND DOC FUCKING KISSED.

Also, I died!

This really felt like a pivotal episode, and I truly can’t wait to see the next one!

41) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

#Wynonna Earp #Waverly Earp #Doc Holliday #Melani Scrofano #Tim Rozon #WE recap #WE 1x05 #what's the ship name for Wynonna and Doc?#I need to know for science #MTVSwatches

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miikkasakari · 5 years

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And then, at some point, it became apparent that Scott Lang was one of my favourite characters in the MCU, and the fun ride that was Ant-Man and the Wasp helped drive it home.

Ant-Man probably should not work on the big screen; it does largely because even despite all the wacky science it keeps itself grounded. The interpersonal drama is relatively minimal; by the time we’re at its sequel, it’s mostly gone. I mean, yeah, it’s there - Scott betrayed Hope and Hank - but he also has his unconventional family’s full love and support, and when he gets reunited with Hope, it doesn’t take her long to warm back up to him. Because ultimately, he’s still a good, well-meaning person, and she can’t distance herself from him as a means to an end.

It’s Scott being so likeable that makes the entire thing click. His goal is pretty simple, as it has been in most moments we see him: be there for Cassie in whatever way he can. While Maggie and Paxton weren’t trusting of him in the first movie, by the time the second one comes around, even though he’s technically done something so much worse they fully trust him; it’s because he’s made it clear Cassie is his world and he would do anything for her and to ensure her safety. Paxton saw it with his own eyes in the first one. He didn’t just magically get everyone’s trust - he had to earn it back. With his family it was off-screen; with Hope and Hank, it was on-screen.

I really, really love how quickly they’re able to come back together. And one of the highlights of these movies is how unique they can get with battle sequences - and though Ghost’s abilities limited any real battle sequences with her, the effects were extremely cool - and a big part of that is how flexible Scott and Hope can be while teaming up. It’s fun and adds an extra dynamic, both to their relationship and to the overall direction. And I really can’t emphasize it enough: the way they’re able to so quickly fall back into how things first were between them is a genuine delight. They’re partners.

There’s also the whole “Scott is the only good dad in the entire MCU” thing which, really, he is; a great deal of his emotional core focuses on parenting and him acknowledging how he can be a better parent. Cassie adores him and while he’s able to give her as much time as he can he’s also capable of recognizing what it is to be an adult and restrictions he may have to impose on her as an authority figure (i.e. telling her he’d be a terrible parent if he let her go out superheroing at 10). A lot of Scott’s character is played as a joke, but it’s a reminder that he’s an adult and a character who’s more than one-off comedic relief. It’s all through the heart of the movies and it all works so well.

Scott is just such a good, loveable character. That’s also part of what makes the post-credits scene as tragic as it is - because in all likelihood, he’s going through a lot of trauma, too. Who knows what Janet went through while stuck in the quantum realm for 30 years; we don’t yet know how long it will be for Scott but it has to be a combination of abandonment, hopelessness, betrayal, and fear, all oscillating as he has no idea what’s happened. Seeing everyone get dusted in Infinity War was tragic (and the real world implications of it were driven home in the second post-credits scene, it was haunting); seeing a terrible fate befall just one person connects so much more strongly. I was more excited for Endgame after my first showing of Ant-Man and the Wasp than I was after Infinity War precisely because of that end credits scene: I want to know how Scott is affected. I’m sure some of it will be played for jokes, but some of it won’t be. And he’s such a loveable, wholesome character; I want to know how he’s going to deal with all of it, specifically. Everyone else too, but he’s going to be in such a unique situation. The superhero name is silly, but what he can add is massive - and I’m really looking forward to seeing him in a more serious tone, something we haven’t quite had the chance to yet. (There have been moments in his films but the overall tone of them has been joyful, and I love that, I love feeling happy watching them, but hey, something else isn’t bad.)

Speaking of being stuck in the quantum realm: I really appreciate how the MCU has chosen to handle Hank. They’ve completely side-stepped the domestic abuse because it wasn’t possible in this universe, but they still made it clear he’s still Hank: the only people who can stand to work with him are his family (and Scott). The fact that he’s a controlling dick still completely comes through, especially in his arguments with Bill. It’s easy to see why he would get completely on everybody’s nerves and alienate everyone around him; he’s brilliant but who wants to be around that? How does anyone tolerate it? He’s not a bad person but you can see how he could have been.

But I also love how much Hope will always stick by him. She’s very family-oriented: she lost her mom at a young age; she’s not going to lose her dad. And she sees how Scott treats his daughter, probably sees a bit of herself in Cassie, and it helps their relationship as well. When Scott is pleading with Hope and Hank that he has to leave the lab and make sure he’s still at his place when the FBI shows up she’s obviously distraught for a number of reasons but she isn’t going to argue with him having to leave, and I’d think that’s partly because she’s more stressed out about her own situation but also because she’s thinking of Cassie, too. That they all got to have a movie night together at the end was the perfect start for a new, extended branch of this family. The amount everyone in this movie cares for one another - to the point of taking action of making sure that Ava will be okay (and that Ava’s motivation was understandable and they didn’t make her a full-on villain, but really worked well to ensure a grey area with her) - is really touching. The only major conflict was with a corrupt businessman, which we can all agree, yeah, fuck that guy.

Oh, and the constant cat-and-mouse feel of the movie, culminating in a massive three-way chase climax? So much fun, and different than yet another final battle. I don’t even know how long it takes because I don’t feel the need to check the time, it doesn’t drag at all; watching three different parties with warring interests fight over a box is awesome.

But back to Hope for one more point: her fight scenes are the best. Yes, her with Scott together, but also just her. She has a gimmick of course, but she also isn’t super-powered, and that makes them even better to watch. Here’s the first time Marvel has bothered to put a female character in the title of one of its movies, sharing equal billing with a man, and she more than pulls her weight, both in terms of character and action. She’s a woman leading in a comic book movie and she fits in so seamlessly.

Other than the importance of family and helping people there’s no real underlying message. But the movie manages to juggle so many different plot points - six different directions, with Scott vs. the FBI, Jimmy vs. Scott (and I didn’t even get into Jimmy! But he’s hilarious and it’s the perfect fit for a bit conflict amidst everything else that goes on in this movie), trying to get Janet back, trying to heal Ava, dealing with Sunny, and Luis trying to get his business up and going (and there’s the brief political moment - “do you know how hard it is for ex-cons to get work” - and I’d really love to see how these movies could turn out if played totally straight, because somewhere out there, there’s a version of it that works) - and it never once feels overstretched or too complicated. A bunch of crazy shit happened to four different groups of people all at once and everyone’s dealing and it’s wildly entertaining (not to mention, occasionally, truly hilarious - Scott channeling Janet [and their first meeting! Kind of! Was so sweet!] and Luis’ narration coming back into the fold two of the major highlights).

It’s fun. After all of the surrounding drama, it’s just so much fun. Which is what made the post-credits scene such a shock - of course the movie itself had to stand alone from Infinity War, but there also had to be some kind of connection there - and brought it back out from its own isolated pocket of the MCU. But it’s such a good pocket that it’s going to be really wonderful to see it immersed with everyone else, even if the tone shifts with it.

#mcu essay dorking

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seanshumblehome · 6 years

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Danny Phantom:More than a one man job.

“BAAM!”

Danny went flying as a blue beam of light smashed him through a concrete wall of Casper High School, sliding across the floor of a classroom and into several desks.Flipping a desk off his chest, Danny slow arose to his feet questioning if the loud thumping he was hearing was either his newly acquired headache or just the sound of his assaulter’s boots slamming against the ground as he stomped towards him.Suddenly Danny felt the heavy hand of his assaulter tightly grip his left shoulder, Danny then felt himself being lifted off the ground as his assaulter lifted him to be at face level.

Assaulter:Young man, do you know why I attacked you? The imposing armored figure asked.

Danny:Well if a had to take guess, I’d say it’s because you’re a prick. Danny said with a mixture of anger and pain.

Assaulter:Funny. He said releasing Danny’s shoulder allowing him to land on his feet.

Assaulter:You see, I am someone who tends to plan for the future, so I’m going to make sure you can’t get in my way. The man said before suddenly punching Danny in the stomach slamming him into the wall behind him.

Danny wrapped his arms around his stomach and fell to his knees, coughing up a small but worrying amount of blood, the assaulter then threw Danny, slamming him into the blackboard.All Danny could hear now was the ringing in his head,watching as his assaulter began to approach him, Danny extended his right arm to fire a ghost ray at his assaulter.Seeing this he stopped and spread his out arms as though he was daring Danny to shoot him.

“BAAM!”

Blast of energy flying through the hole in the high school wall sent Danny’s assaulter careening into wall stunning him for a short moment.As if on queue, Sam ran through the hole in the wall, Sam grabbed Danny’s hand and ran back through the hole just as his assaulter began to rise back to his feet.Now outside the Sam and Danny bolted for the parking lot where a single white van idles, Sam threw open the back doors then pushed Danny inside before getting in herself.

Sam:Punch it Tucker! Sam shouted slamming the back doors closed.

The van jerked hard as it accelerated froward, bouncing as it drove over a speed bump.Danny’s assaulter watched as the three teens sped away in their van, trying not to hit anything as they poorly drove away.Then the sudden crackle of the assaulter’s helmet communicator turned his attention back to the whole reason why he was out here, why he had attacked Danny.

COMMS:White whale to Ahab, do you have the device? White whale asked as he crackled over the comms.

Ahab:This is Ahab yes I have it. Ahab said, pulling the cylindrical device from behind him.

COMMS:Great work sir, what about the boy, should we track him? White whale recommended

Ahab:Negative, He poses little threat, that and we have more important things to attend to. Ahab said as he attached the device to the back of his utility belt again.

COMMS:Affirmative, We’ll send a Shoebill to extract you. White whale acknowledged as he ended the call.

Ahab turned and began to make his way to the schools football field for extraction.

“MEANWHILE.”

Danny lay on the back of the vans floor with his arms around his stomach, trying to not bounce around the back of the van.Sam grabbed on to Danny to keep him in place as Tucker poorly drove the van.

Sam:Whats’s wrong Danny, is it serious? Sam asked, worried for Danny’s condition.

Danny:H-He punched m-me really h-hard. Danny mumbled, stuttering due to the pain.

Sam:We’ll look at it once where at the house. Sam said attempting to keep Danny calm.

Suddenly a hard left turn sent Sam and Danny slamming against the right side of the van, causing Danny to groan in pain.

Sam:Tucker! Can’t you dive any safer! Sam barked at Tucker.

Tucker:Sorry never driven a van before! Tucker blurted out as he frantically drove.

After several minutes of frantic driving, the teens finally pulled up next to the Fentons household, as soon as Sam and Tucker exited the van Danny’s sister Jazz ran out of the house.

Jazz:How is he? Jazz asked worried for Danny.

Sam:He’s hurt, but I didn’t see any blood on his suit. Sam answered as they walked to the back of the van.

Jazz:Think it’s internal? Jazz questioned as Sam grabbed the handles of the back doors.

Sam:I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out once we’re inside. Sam answered once again.

Sam threw opened the doors and climbed into the back to help Danny out, once out of the van Danny threw his arms over Jazz and Sam’s shoulders.

Danny:Jazz? Are mom and dad home? Danny asked as he was carried to the front door.

Jazz:Thankfully no, they went out to a ghost call. Jazz answered.

Danny:Thank God. Danny mumbled under his breath.

Tucker opened the front door allowing the three teens to enter, once inside they all quickly made their way to Danny’s bedroom, Sam and Jazz carefully laid Danny on his bed, Danny groaning as they did so.Sam then carefully pulled up Danny’s shirt to reveal a large fist shaped bruise.

Sam:Tucker do you have the ultrasound? Sam asked.

Tucker nodded and Sam waved him over, Tucker pulled the ultrasound from his backpack and carefully placed on Danny’s stomach.

Danny:H-How bad is it? Danny stuttered through his pain.

Tucker:Well the good news is that your guts haven’t been liquefied, but the bad news is that you have a three inch long and three inch wide hole in your stomach that’s leaking blood and acid on you guts so... yeah not good. Tucker answered.

Danny:Oh good that’s fun. Danny said to himself.

Sam:Hey Danny why not try that new “thing” you’ve been practicing. Sam mentioned, winking at Danny.

Danny:New thing? What new... Oh! Okay yeah, guess there’s no better time to test it out huh? Danny realized.

With assistance from Jazz and Sam, Danny stood up next to his bed, Danny then closed his eye’s in concentration as he channeled his energy.Suddenly two rings made of golden light formed around Danny that began passing over him, as they passed over him Danny was lifted several inches off the ground.After several minutes Danny landed gently on the ground and the rings dissipated into nothing, Danny sighed and gently patted his stomach.

Sam:How do you feel? Sam asked placing her hand on his shoulder.

Danny: Well I don’t feel brand spanking new, but I certainly don’t feel as bad as earlier. Danny answered.

Jazz:Tucker ultrasound him just to make sure. Jazz commanded.

Tucker nodded and approached Danny placing the device on against his stomach.

Danny:How does it look? Danny asked mildly concerned.

Tucker:It’s a beautiful baby boy. Tucker replied.

Danny, Sam & Jazz:Tucker! The three shouted.

Tucker:Hehe sorry, it looks like the hole in your stomach is almost fully healed but not completely, it went from three inches long and wide to just a few centimeters. Tucker replied.

Danny:Hm guess I still have some practice to do. Danny said.

Jazz:Alright now that we know you’re not gonna die, tell us what happened out there? Jazz questioned.

Danny nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed he explained what had happened before he was attacked, he had been at Vlad’s mansion to get something that he had stolen from Danny and Jazz’s parents had found after a routine ghost call. He had no idea what it was but it must of been dangerous if Vlad and his assaulter wanted and fought for it so badly.Then there was...him,the man that had attacked him,the others listened closely as Danny described him.

Danny:He was big,about seven feet and covered in some serious armor,with tech that could hit me even when I was incorporeal. Danny said with a slight hint of fear in his voice.

Jazz:Don’t worry Danny we’re going to find this guy and make him pay! Jazz shouted.

Sam:Yeah whoever this guy is, he is going to regret messing with my boyfriend! Sam said agreeing with Jazz.

Tucker:Same here, nobody mess with my best friend. Tucker said agreeing with the girls.

Danny bowed his head and chuckled before standing up.

Danny:Look guys, as much as I appreciate the offer...I think you’re gonna have to sit this one out. Danny said, causing the three to be taken aback.

Sam:You can’t be serious, that guy could very easily have killed you. Sam said.

Jazz:I agree with Sam, if you go out there and fight that guy again,you could die. Jazz agreed with Sam.

Tucker:They’re right Danny, taking that guy alone is not a good idea. Tucker said agreeing with the girls, causing Danny to sigh and shake his head.

Danny:Guys that’s not what I meant, I mean that I’m going to need help to fight this guy, and it’s gonna have to be people like me who do it. Danny explained.

The three teens looked at each other somewhat confused by what Danny had said.

Jazz:Do you mean like... more ghost’s? Jazz asked.

Danny:No... Tucker, Sam, you guys know what I’m talking about right? Danny replied.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other confused for a moment but it wasn’t too long before Tucker realized what Danny had “actually mean’t.”

Tucker:A team of hero’s? Tucker asked.

Danny nodded and upon seeing this the two girls looked at each other obviously still confused.

Sam:Uh Danny... we don’t know any other hero’s. Sam Said.

Tucker:Well what about Kim Possible? Tucker asked.

Jazz:Oh please Tucker, she’s retired and has kid now. Jazz retorted making Tucker cross his arms and quietly grumble to himself.

Danny:Hey Jazz do you remember that “Thing” Mom and Dad where talking about this morning? Danny asked.

Jazz thought back to the morning wondering what Danny was talking about but she soon realized what he was mentioning.

Jazz:Oh God Danny you can’t be serious. Jazz said.

Danny:Come on Jazz, if ghosts can exist then there has to be at least a possibility of him existing. Danny argued.

Sam:What is he talking about Jazz? Sam questioned.

Jazz:He’s talking about the legend of the American Dragon. Jazz answered before sighing in disappointment at the fact that those words came out of her mouth... again.

Sam:Danny you can’t be serious right now? Sam said.

Danny:Come on guys, there’s gotta be a chance. Danny argued once again.

Tucker:I think I’m going to have to go with Danny guys, situation like this might require more... professional help. Tucker said agreeing with Danny.

Sam shook her head in disbelief while Jazz sighed, and looked back at Danny the confidence and excitement on his calm face.Jazz Approached Danny placing her hand on his shoulder.

Jazz:Are you sure about this Danny? Jazz asked.

Danny:Completely. Danny answered placing his hand on hers.

Jazz:What if Mom and Dad find out? Jazz asked once again.

Danny looked down, he knew how high the risk of him being discovered was, but he couldn’t let that man get away with that device.Danny looked back up at Jazz the concern on her face clearly visible.

Danny:If they find out, I’ll tell them the truth... no matter what. Danny answered causing Jazz to nod and release Danny’s shoulder.

Jazz:Then at least let me make you some food to take, it is after all a long way to New York from her you know. Jazz said causing Danny to chuckle.

After several minutes of helping Danny get ready for his trip, the four teens now stood on the top of the Fenton building.Danny stood at the edge checking to make sure that his bag was fastened correctly when he was approached by Sam, Tucker, and Jazz.

Jazz:Got everything you’ll need right? Jazz asked.

Danny:I’ve got food, money for a hotel, powerbank for my phone, yep I say that’s about it, plus some stuff I got from the lab that Mom and Dad won’t notice have gone missing. Danny answered as he yanked on the strap of his duffel bag.

Jazz and Danny hugged, Jazz fighting back the urge to cry as she strongly embracing her little bother, once they had finished Sam stepped forth looking down at the ground as she nervously rubbed her arm, she looked up her eyes connecting with Danny’s.He knew she didn’t exactly like this idea, but he also knew she wasn’t going to try and stop him.

Sam:Are you sure you don’t need us, what if you get attacked again? Sam asked concerned.

Danny:Yeah but that’s the reason why I don’t want you to come, if something happened to you... I don’t know what I’d do to myself. Danny answered.

Sam nodded before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him one final time before he left.

Sam:Just make sure to call me when you get there... so I know you’re okay. Sam whispered into his ear causing him to respond with a nodded.

Sam stepped back from Danny allowing Tucker to step forward, Danny and Tucker smiled at each other then pounded fists.

Tucker:Make sure to keep yourself out of danger man, dealing with Jazz and Sam is hard enough when you are here. Tucker jokingly said.

Danny:I’ll try but you know me, always where the danger is. Danny replied causing them both to chuckle.

Tucker and Danny hugged smacking each other on the back.

Tucker:Be safe out there man. Tucker said with a slight lilt in his voice.

Once the goodbyes where over and done with, Danny turned his gaze eastward.The three teens watched as Danny began to levitate high into the air, then with a great burst of speed Danny took off, the wind howling pass him as he flew.He didn’t know how he was going to find the American Dragon, but one thing’s for sure.He wasn’t leaving New York without a Dragon.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#Danny Phantom #danny fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #jasmine fenton #jazz fenton #adjl #american dragon jake long

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whydontwe-fanfics · 6 years

Text

A Christmas Carol (J.M)

Based off of ‘A Christmas Carol’

Description: Four ghosts visit Jonah after his selfishness and greed results in the end of your relationship and roughly affects his life.

Warnings: maybe a few curse words, angst

Word Count: 7.5k

---

Jonah sat on the recording studio couch as he and the guys all decided that a break from singing would do them justice. He sat with his elbows perched on his spread knees, his chin resting on his clasped hands.

“Stop being so glum,” Corbyn threw a Starburst wrapper at the curly headed boy. “It’s the holiday season,” he jokingly sang, looking at Jonah, expecting him to sing back.

Jonah merely glanced at Corbyn before lazily looking back at his phone.

“Can we hurry this up? I have to get back home,” Jonah’s sultry voice spoke up as the guys goofed around the studio.

“It’s not like you have anyone to get back to,” Daniel snaps, growing agitated with Jonah’s pissy mood that he’s been sporting for the past two weeks. The guys all come to a halt once they comprehend what had just come out of Daniel’s mouth. They cautiously look at Jonah, whose jaw is clenched as his face turns red. He abruptly stood up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut after his exit.

“Way to go,” Zach sarcastically drawled as Jack pat Daniel on the back. “Way to go.”

---

Jonah was silently grateful that he had driven his own car to the rehearsal. Otherwise, he’d be stranded outside of the studio. He drove home with anger fresh in his blood. When he finally arrived at his destination, he climbed out of his car and quickly headed inside.

He muttered curses along the entire way as if he was swearing at the world.

Jonah Marais has been very moody in the past four weeks, the reasons varying.

He might as well grumble ‘bah-humbug’ as he opens his front door and makes his way inside, tugging his coat off and throwing it on the ground before kicking his shoes off. He runs a hand down his face just as his phone rings. He plans to ignore it, but when he pulls his phone out, he sees that it’s his mom calling.

“Hey, Mom,” Jonah greeted, placing the call on speaker and putting his phone on the counter of his kitchen.

“Hey, Sweetie. I just wanted to call to see if you were packed. You know how you are with procrastination-”

“Packed?” Jonah furrows his eyebrows. “Packed for what?”

“What do you mean?” His mother chuckled.

“What am I supposedly packing for?”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” she sighed.

“I wish I knew what you’re talking about, but I don’t, Mom,” Jonah frowned.

“For the past three months, we’ve planned for you to come down here for Christmas!” She grew annoyed with that fact that Christmas with his family has completely left his mind. “Get your head out of the gutter! What have you been doing, lately? You haven’t called in a while.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” Jonah clenches his eyes shut and rubs his forehead. “I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Well get your mind back on track. Your flight is on Friday.”

“Mom, I don’t think I can make it,” Jonah quickly ripped the band-aid off before they both went silent.

“What the hell do you mean you won’t make it? You have three days!”

“A lot is going on-”

“The girls were so excited,” she exclaims. “You’re entire family was excited! Jonah, you’re getting on that flight and you’re bringing yourself down here.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Doing what? The rest of the boys are going home to their families!” When Jonah doesn’t respond, Kristin lets out an irritated sigh. “What about Y/N?” Jonah took a sharp inhale at your name. “You know she’s having issues with her family. She wanted to come down, too!”

“Y/N wouldn’t be coming down even if I decided to,” Jonah huffed.

“And why’s that?”

Jonah bit his bottom lip as he felt his heart wrench. “Y/N and I aren’t together, Mom,” he distressfully pulls at his hair.

His mother gasped and Jonah could imagine her placing a hand over her heart.

“What happened?” He could hear the disappointment and sadness in her voice.

“Things just didn’t work out.”

“Jonah, Sweetie, that doesn’t make sense. You two have been together since you were starting high school. Now tell me what happened.”

“I don’t feel like explaining, Mom,” Jonah groaned.

“Well then give it to me short, at least.”

Jonah stared at the wall as he nibbled at the inside of his cheek before giving in. “She left me.”

“That doesn’t sound like my Y/N-”

“She isn’t your Y/N and she isn’t mine. She’s her own person and she’s the one who walked out on me.”

She bit her bottom lip as thousands of thoughts consumed her mind. She wanted to ask so many questions, but Jonah already seemed heated and she was in the midst of persuasion.

“Jonah,” she starts, but he cuts her off before she can continue.

“I’ve gotta go.” He hung up not a second later.

---

Jonah settled himself on his couch after changing into more comfortable clothing, a sigh leaving his lips as he turns the television on. A Christmas claymation appears and he frowns before instantly changing the channel, nostalgia over the show creeping in on him.

He’s only five minutes into a random show on cable when a knock at his door takes his attention away.

He doesn’t move for a moment, hoping that whoever it was would just go away, but they knocked again.

Jonah huffed and pulled himself to his feet before heading to the door, going to look through the peephole when another rapid knock is heard from the other side.

“I’m opening it!” He groans, opening the door hastily. He looks straight ahead of him and furrows his eyebrows before looking downward. His eyes widen when they land on the little girl that stands on his doorstep. “Em?”

“Hi, Jonah!” The seven-year-old girl pushed herself into his home dejectedly.

“Wha-?” He turns to her with wide eyes. “What are you doing here? Alone?”

“Talking to you,” she says in a ‘duh’ tone, pulling herself up onto one of the stools that were placed beside the outward counters.

“How did you get here, Em?”

“You seem worked up,” the young girl pursed her lips to the side.

Jonah stared at her with wide eyes, confused and concerned.

“Where’s… where’s your aunt?” He asked.

“You mean Y/N?” Emilia hummed, cocking her head to the side. She had her book bag on her back and she was clad in her school uniform. Jonah then remembered picking her up from school with you a few times. “She’s probably doing homework. That’s all she ever does these days.”

“Em, why are you here and how did you get here?”

“I’m not gonna answer that,” she placed her chin the palm of her hand as her feet swung back and forth.

“I’m gonna call your mom,” he reached into his pocket to feel for his phone and frowned when he couldn’t feel it. He knew it was there just a second ago.

“You don’t even have her number,” Jonah looked up to where Emilia was just sitting. He then looked towards the couch, where her voice had come from and saw her toying with his phone in her little hands.

“How did you-”

“I came here for a reason,” she said to herself, tapping her chin. “Oh yeah!” She smiles and turns to Jonah, who’s genuinely and deeply confused. “You’ve gotta get your life together, dude.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an asshole,” Emilia points at him and his eyes grow wide at her language. “You’ve been really mean to everybody lately, especially the guys and your family.”

“How would you know anything about-” he tries to talk but is once again interrupted by the seven-year-old.

“Not only have you been quite the Grinch, but you seriously messed Y/N up.”

“She left me,” Jonah argued.

“Because you’ve been an asshole,” Emilia says back.

“Watch your language, Em, seriously,” Jonah demands before running a hand through his hair. “Who sent you here! The guys? Y/N?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head.

Jonah begins to grow frustrated. “Give me my phone. I’m gonna call your mom, you might need a check-up.”

“With the way your heading, Jonah, your gonna end up down in the dumps,” she crossed her arms.

“What?”

“Your ego is way too bloated. You’ve become a real pain to your friends and even to your family. You might as well go steal Christmas with the Grinch, you big grouch.”

Jonah deeply frowned, staring at the girl who sat on his couch.

“With the life you’re living now, you might as well go buy three cats and get a head start on a lonely life.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jonah scoffed.

“Ya know, there’s a chance to fix your fate before Christmas,” Emilia claims.

“I think you’ve been watching too many Christmas movies, kid.”

She ignored him. “Your attitude is messing with too many lives,” she wiggles her index finger at him. “Especially Y/N’s.”

Jonah glanced at the floor at the mention of his ex-girlfriend.

“So we’re giving you a chance of redemption.”

“One, who’s 'we’? And two, how do you even know what redemption means?”

“You’re missing the point here,” Emilia groans. “You’re hopeless.” With that being said and before Jonah could understand what was happening, she chucked his phone directly at his head.

---

Jonah jolted awake from his slumber with tired eyes. His first action was rapidly looking around him. He soon came to the conclusion that he had fallen asleep on the couch and everything that had to deal with Emilia was a dream.

Jonah ran a hand down his face as a groan left his mouth and he threw himself back into lying down on the couch.

He didn’t know how to feel about the non-existent conversation with your little sister that felt so real.

“Hey.”

A loud scream ripped from Jonah’s throat at the sound of someone beside him in his home. He frantically looked around himself and let out another yelp when his eyes landed on Zach.

“What the hell?” Jonah held a hand up to his heart. “You were not just there a second ago!”

“Yes, I was,” Zach crossed his arms.

“No, you weren’t,” Jonah argued.

“No, I wasn’t,” Zach admitted with a shrug.

“How did you get inside?”

“Kind of just thought it and boom, I’m here,” he cracked a smile.

“That’s not funny,” Jonah furrowed his eyebrows. “How did you get in? Was my door unlocked?”

“I wasn’t joking, Marais.”

“Did you just call me Marais?” Jonah asked.

“You have too many questions. Get up,” Zach ordered.

“Why?”

“Nice bracelet,” Zach randomly said. “Let me see.” In the blink of an eye, the bracelet that was just on his right wrist was no longer on him and now in Zach’s hand.

Jonah hopped onto his feet. “How in the hell did you do that?”

“Who got you this? A special someone?” Zach analyzed the item thoroughly, twirling in between his fingers.

“Give it back,” Jonah demanded.

“Whatever.” The bracelet suddenly disappeared from Zach’s hold and appeared back around Jonah’s wrist.

“Did you slip something into my coffee, earlier?” Jonah rubbed his eyes.

“No, why would you ask that? Is there no trust in our friendship?” Zach dramatically held a hand up to his heart before all dramatics disappeared. “Good, you’re up. Now we can get the show on the road.”

“What show?” Jonah asked.

“How about we make a deal? You stop asking questions and just stick around and the quicker you’ll be back on your couch snoozing away.”

“What the fuck is going on, Zach?” Jonah’s voice rose as he grew angrier.

Zach simply rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“So no deal? Fine.” He then rubbed his hands together before quickly clapping.

Both he and Jonah stood in silence, Zach staring at his hands intensely.

“What-”

“Just be patient,” Zach grumbled. Not two seconds later, Jonah felt a wave of something he couldn’t put his finger on pass throughout his body.

“Ah,” Zach sighed. “Here we are.”

Jonah felt his stomach drop when he came to the realization that they were no longer standing in his dim lighted living room.

“Another dream,” he facepalmed. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

He had to admit, this was the most realistic dream he had ever been in according to his memories.

“Sure, a dream,” Zach scoffed. “If that’ll stop you from asking so many questions, then we’ll go with that.”

Jonah observed his surrounding before a light bulb went off in his head.

“This is my backyard,” he stated.

“Correct,” Zach patted Jonah on the back before walking towards the back porch. Jonah glanced down at his feet and furrowed his eyes once he noticed that he only had socks on. He shifted on his feet, confused as to why the snow didn’t feel like freezing death.

He shook his head and went to follow Zach up the porch and through the back door that leads into his home.

“Woah,” Jonah stumbled a few inches back when he saw his home. “It looks like it did when I was younger.”

“You are mighty slow, Marais,” Zach commented as he flicked a child coat sleeve that hung on one of the hooks.

“You staying for dinner, Sweetie?” Jonah could hear his mother’s voice in the living room.

“My moms making dinner tonight, but I’ll come for dinner tomorrow!”

Jonah bit his bottom lip at the sound of your voice. It was different and higher, but he knew it was yours.

“Oh, your sister’s home tonight?” Jonah’s mother asks just as he and Zach turn the corner. He gasps when he sees the figures of you, his and his mother seven years ago. He was twelve and you were eleven.

You both were so young.

“Yeah, her first day of maternity leave,” you replied ecstatically.

“That’s amazing, truly.”

“Yeah, eventually she’s gonna pop,” twelve-year-old Jonah said.

Jonah merely chuckled at his younger self. Before he knew it, the scene before him fazed away and was replaced with another.

This time, you both were older. This was two years later, the year he had begun high-school and also the year your friendship had been threatened by the distance.

Now that the both of you were in different schools, you didn’t have as much time together as you did before and both of you were so sure your relationship would cut off there and then.

But one day you had shown up at Jonah’s house crying over how you missed him. You were going through tough times in school and him not being there made it even harder.

Jonah watched as he and you lied on his couch, your head on his shoulder as he ran his hand through your hair. Dry tear stains marked your cheeks as he murmured soothing things to you to calm you down, his lips on your forehead.

Jonah felt a small blush rise on his cheeks when he remembered that this was the night you two had shared your first kiss - the first of many. He turned to Zach with a questioning look and Zach knew exactly what was to be asked.

“Can we go now?” Jonah groaned.

“But we were just getting to the good part,” Zach grins, watching you glance up Jonah.

“Zach, please,” Jonah begged.

Zach rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Fine.” He turns from the scene and walks out of the living room and makes his way up the stairs.

“What’s the point of this?” Jonah suddenly asks as he follows behind.

“Have you never seen ‘A Christmas Carol’?” Zach scoffed, heading towards Jonah’s room.

“I have, but this isn’t real. Why does it feel so real?” Jonah furrowed his eyebrows as Zach opened Jonah’s bedroom door.

“Who said it wasn’t real?” Zach cocked his head to the side. Jonah opened his mouth to respond when his eyes landed on you and himself a little over two years ago. His eyes widened as he remembered everything that had to do with the scene placed out in front of him.

“This is the night,” he mumbled to himself, watching as his past self and you both lied on his bed laughing and giggling to a YouTube video he couldn’t remember what of. By then, you both had officially been a couple for a while.

“Yup,” Zach pops his 'p’, swinging back and forth on the balls of his feet. “The night.”

“Can we go?” Jonah diverted his eyes away from the both of your past selves.

“I’m enjoying myself,” Zach shrugged. “Watch.” His eyes narrow at Jonah as he points his finger at the both of your past selves on the bed. Jonah refuses to look But has no choice when the feeling of some force makes his head turn back and his eyes land on the sight in front of him.

Jonah watched as the seventeen-year-old version of himself stared down at you with adoration in his eyes. Past Jonah’s eyes didn’t leave your figure as you giggled, your attention on the video playing on the laptop screen.

He watches as your lips pursed when the video buffers because of the connection.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You slightly tilt your head. Past Jonah furrows his eyebrows as if questioning how she knew. “I see you through the screen, you nut.”

He chuckles, trying to avoid answering the question when you turn around to face him. You raise your eyebrows when he suddenly leans in and places a lingering kiss on your lips. You don’t hesitate to respond, but before you could fully kiss back, he pulls away.

“I think I love you,” he whispers. Your entire body froze as you stared at him with wide eyes. “I mean, I don’t think. I know. I love you.”

He grows anxious as you sit there in awe, but his anxiety soon comes to an end when you begin beaming at him, your smile large and genuine.

“I love you, too!”

Jonah’s heart clenched as he watched his past self and your past self kiss once again.

“This is just too cute,” Zach holds a hand up to his heart, a pout on his lips. “Okay, now we can go. One more stop.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jonah asks just before Zach claps his hands, the sound echoing around them.

“Because it’s kind of my job,” Zach scoffs as what felt like a wave of air brushed past them.

Jonah immediately knew where they were. It was the studio he and the boys recorded at. As he looked at himself sitting in one of the swivel chairs, he instantly knew the scene that would take place in just a few moments.

“This one is more recent,” Zach says.

“I’m not watching this,” he objects.

Zach let out a laugh. “You say that as if you have a choice.” He points a finger at the two weeks prior version of Jonah, and Jonah was influenced by some force to watch.

He felt his heart beat increase when a soft tap hit the door.

Past Jonah got up with a groan and trudged to the door, opening it to reveal you.

“Hey,” he merely greeted before going back to his seat.

“What are you still doing here? It’s late,” you frown, slowly walking in.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“The boys told me you never left the studio,” you sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” He scoffed. “Working? It’s kind of my job, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s the boys’ job, too, and they aren’t here trying to perfect everything at eleven in the evening.”

“Obviously, they don’t care as much as I do,” Jonah hummed.

“Could you just look at me for two seconds?” You frown, staring at the back of his head. He lets out a deep sigh and turns to you reluctantly. “Jonah this is getting out of hand.”

“What is?”

“This!” You gesture to the studio you’re in. “You, becoming a workaholic.”

“I have responsibilities, Y/N. I’m sorry if that comes in the way of me kissing you good night.”

You clench your teeth with agitation.

“I’m just trying to get shit done,” he snaps, turning back to the computer.

“Well if getting work done means that you become more of an asshole every day, then leave me out of it,” you argue.

“You know where the door is,” he responded heartlessly. You stared at the back of his head as your eyes become glossy with oncoming tears.

“Seriously?” You huff.

“Yes, seriously,” Jonah shrugged. “If you can’t deal with my life, then you can’t deal with me.”

“I’m not asking you to choose, Jonah!” You shout. “I’m asking you to take a break for one fucking second to look at me! I haven’t seen you in days and you never answer my calls or texts!”

“Because I’m always busy!” Jonah shouts back, turning to you and rising to his feet. “You were the one who told me to go forward with my dreams, and now that I’m where I want to be you want me to choose you over it? That’s not happening. So if that means we’re done, then we’re over.”

You stare at him as if he was a stranger.

“I came here for you,” you muttered, mentioning the fact that you moving to L.A was entirely because of him.

“That was your choice,” he huffed.

With a shake of the head, you quickly make your way to the door, tears falling down your face. Before you leave, you turn to him.

“I hope you accomplish everything you’ve ever wanted. Maybe it’ll be easier without me being apart of it.”

With that said, you walk out and slam the door behind you.

Past Jonah doesn’t say a thing as he stared at the door as random emotions passed through him.

Zach watched the events unfold with risen eyebrows, an amused look on his face. Jonah stared at himself with a puzzled expression, his jaw clenched as he felt his stomach drop.

“I should’ve gone after her,” he murmured to himself. “I should’ve done something. Anything.”

“But you didn’t,” Zach chuckled. Jonah quickly went from solemn to anger as he whipped his head towards Zach.

“You think it’s funny? Is my losing the love of my life entertaining to you?” He grew aggressive.

“I do, actually,” Zach shrugged. “Cliche story. Guy falls in love - guy grows in either wealth or fame - guy leaves everything good he has and deals with consequences. It’s nothing but on you, Marais.”

Jonah glares at Zach with pure hatred, irritation flooding his body. Without a second thought, he went to swing at the boy, but Zach caught his fist before it could hit his face.

“What? Did I piss you off with the truth?” Zach tilted his head to the side with a mocking grin on his face. Jonah didn’t reply, his glare being the only response. Zach let out a sigh. “Anyway, we’re done here.” Without a warning, Zach uses his free hand to slap Jonah in the face.

---

Jonah let’s out a loud grunt as he abruptly sits up from his lying position on the couch.

His eyes are wide as he looks around himself, his breathing a little heavier than normal.

After a few moments, he closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh, relieved that the dream was over.

“Let’s get this show on the road!”

Jonah let out a scream, quickly opening his eyes to reveal Jack and Daniel standing at the foot of his couch.

“You know the drill,” Jack grins as Jonah lets out a groan and falls back onto to couch.

“Let’s get to it,” Daniel then claps.

Jonah’s eyes are closed but he still feels the ripples surround his body. Before he knew it the couch beneath his body was gone and he fell to the ground harshly.

A grunt left his lips as he opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling of wherever they had just arrived.

Daniel lightly kicks Jonah’s side, causing him to huff and rise to his feet before he took a look around.

“Why are we here, again?” He asked as he came to the conclusion that they were in his living room again.

“Zach was right, you do ask a lot of questions,” Jack nudged Daniel, who nodded, with his elbow. Jonah rolled his eyes just before Svea, his younger sister, came running into the room. Her snow coat, hat, gloves and scarf covered most of her body as he sat on the couch. Esther, Jonah’s teenage sister, walked into the room while taking off her coat.

Jonah watched as his mother entered right after them, running a hand through her hair as she sighed.

“What’s the bad news?” Esther sighed, leaning back into her seat with her arms folded. Svea furrowed her eyebrows while glancing between her older sister and mother.

“What? Bad news?”

“With the way you’re acting, it can’t be good news,” Esther observed. “Unless you’re completely throwing me off here.”

“I’m sorry, girls,” Jonah’s mother frowned. “Jonah won’t be able to make it this Christmas.”

“What?!” Both girls cried out, their faces full of disappointment and sadness. “Why not?” Svea whined.

“He’s busy.”

“That’s such bull,” Esther scoffed.

“Esther!”

“What’s keeping him so busy that he can’t come down for Christmas?”

“His career.”

“The other guys are going home to their families,” Svea replied, her tone glum.

“Jonah decided to stay behind and continue working on their upcoming music.”

Jonah frowned as he saw his sisters sulk because of his absence.

“I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Esther rose from her seat and hastily walked out of the room.

“What about Y/N? Can she still come down?” Svea asked hopefully. “She’s spent every Christmas with us.”

“I’m not sure she can, Hun.”

Jonah’s eyes fell to the ground.

“What a disappointment,” Jack countered. “Can’t even spend time with your own family.”

Daniel clapped as Jonah kept quiet, deciding to ignore the provoking comments. Waves enveloped the three boys and in the blink of an eye, they stood in your current apartment hallway.

“If you haven’t caught up by now, we’re Present,” Daniel grinned as he leaned against the wall, his hands in his jean pockets.

Jonah glanced between the two and let out a snort.

“I was most definitely drugged,” he ran a hand down his face and kept it there. A chill ran through his bones as the sound of footsteps and the jingle of keys echo through the hallway.

“I can’t come in tonight, you know that,” your voice sounded foreign to his ears as you turned the corner of the hall and came into Jonah’s sight. “You gave me the next two weeks off because of how much I’ve been working.”

You were balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder as you held your keys, along with a coffee, in one hand, your laptop in another, mail underneath your arm and your bag dangling off of your shoulder. You looked stressed and sleep deprived, bags showing under your eyes that you tried to cover with makeup. You wore jeans and a sweatshirt, your hair pulled back into a braid as a pair of reading glasses sat on top of your nose.

“I have things to do,” you said into the phone as you reached your door. You then balance the coffee between your chin and left forearm as you try to open the door, attempting twice before finally achieving. You then kicked the door open with your foot and hurried inside.

The three boys quickly followed after you, Jonah’s eyes never leaving your body.

This entire experience, he had denied the probability of anything going on had been truly happening. Seeing you with his own eyes now had a part of him believe that what was going on wasn’t a dream.

“Sorry, Kai. It’s not happening,” you huff into the phone as you place your things on your living room table. “I have two essays don’t by tonight and not only that but I have to pick up my niece soon.” You stood up and placed a hand on your hip. “Call Nora. Maybe she’ll work… okay, bye.”

Jonah held a deep frown on his face when you hung up, a loud breath leaving your lips as she falls onto your couch. When you and he had been together, he would always make you relax before all of the working and school work took such a toll on you. It’s then that he feels hypocrisy seep into him.

You fall on your couch just as your phone rang. You instantly answered and placed the call on speaker before putting the device on the seat beside you.

“Hey, Ronnie,” you greet your sister after seeing the caller ID.

“Hey, guess who I saw at the mall earlier,” Veronica hummed.

“Santa?” You raise a single eyebrow.

“Yeah, him too, but I also saw the guys.”

Jonah watched as your eyes fell to the floor, immediately knowing who she was talking about.

“He wasn’t there,” Veronica added, the fact that 'he’ was Jonah being clear to everyone.

“Why are you telling me this?” You sit up and lean forward, grabbing your laptop from the table and pulling it onto your lap.

“They said that they miss you,” Veronica informs you.

“That’s nice,” you purse your lips to the side.

“I mean, they didn’t do anything. And it’s not fair to cut them off because of what he did.”

“I’m not cutting them off,” you reply. “I’m just taking a break. Seeing them would do nothing but remind me of everything.”

“Yeah,” Veronica sighed. You both went quiet for a few seconds before she hesitantly began once again. “They said he’s more of a douche bag than ever.”

“Why am I not surprised,” you murmured. “Why is it that every time you call you must bring up Jonah?”

“You say you’re moving on, but all you do is sulk in your room, work, eat and sleep.”

“It’s been two weeks, Ronnie,” you frown. “Jonah and I have been together four years. Not only did I lose the love of my life, but I lost my best friend.” Your eyes grew hazy as you stared at your blank television. “I thought he was the one.”

Jonah felt his heart clench at your words and he walked up to you hastily. He nearly forgot that you couldn’t see him and took a seat beside you, placing his hand on top of yours.

“I still love you,” he whispered, knowing that you couldn’t hear him. “I wish I could take everything back. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Veronica’s voice took Jonah out of his daze. “I thought you guys would end up getting married.”

“The only thing he’s marrying is his career,” you murmured quietly to yourself, but Jonah and Veronica both heard. “I’ve got work to do, Ronnie. I’ll see you later when I come to pick up Emmie.”

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you, too, bye.”

Jonah furrows his eyebrows as you begin to fade from his sight. He looks to where Jack and Daniel had just been standing, only to see that they were gone.

He stood up as everything around him turned grey and he was standing in what seemed to be an endless hallway.

He looked around himself, turning in circles, trying to find whoever was here to explain what was going on.

“Hello?” His voice echoed throughout the hallway. Eventually, he gave up, letting out a sigh while running a hand down his face.

When his hand fell back to his side, he looked at the ground beneath him when the sound of typing was heard. He looked around himself once again, eyes widening at the sight of Corbyn.

Corbyn leaned up against one of the gray walls, the heel of his foot against the wall while he stared down at his phone, his fingers tapping away at some keyboard.

“I’m gonna take a guess and say that you’re gonna show me the Future,” Jonah cautiously spoke, but it didn’t grab Corbyn’s attention. “Hello?”

Corbyn briefly glanced up at Jonah before looking back down at his phone. Jonah furrowed his eyebrows as Corbyn shoved his phone into his pocket and clapped his hands once.

Jonah stayed still as the waves rolled in. He oddly stared at Corbyn, who went back to his phone, before observing where the two of them had arrived.

It was his Stillwater home living room once again. Christmas decorations were everywhere and everything was different - as if more things were added and many things were changed.

This was most definitely the future.

“Did you even invite him this year?”

Jonah turned at the sound of a foreign voice. His eyes almost popped out of his head at the sight of Svea. She looked about sixteen, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Her hair was in a long ponytail as she was clad in clothes that he would never agree with her wearing. She had makeup on and he felt his heart ache at the sight of his baby sister not being his baby sister.

He then saw his mother. She looked like she had aged a few years but she was still as healthy as could be.

“Why invite him when we know he’ll just be too busy?” Esther than walked in and Jonah felt the exact same way he had when he saw Svea.

“Because he’s our big brother and we haven’t seen him in a year,” Svea frowned.

“The last time we saw him, we just went to one of his shows and he didn’t even have time for us,” Esther scoffed, pulling on her winter coat.

“I invited him,” their mother sighed, taking a seat on the couch. “He has yet to respond, though.”

“Christmas is tomorrow, Mom,” Esther deadpanned. “He isn’t coming. Just like last time and the time before that and the time before that.”

Mother Marais let out a sigh, glancing down at her fingers which fiddled with one another in her lap.

“He’s successful,” she murmured. “That’s all he’s ever wanted in life, and that’s what he is now. We have to support him.”

“How could he be satisfied if, in the making of being successful, he loses his family?” Svea leaned her head into her mother’s shoulder.

Jonah stared at the three woman with solemn.

“This can’t be true,” he told himself. “I would never do anything to hurt my family. They mean the world to me.”

He turned to Corbyn, expecting a response, but is met with silence. Corbyn now has his hands tucked into his pockets as he stared and Corbyn quietly. Not a second passed before he pulled his hands out of his pants and clapped before placing them back into their pockets.

Jonah turned back around and is met with a sight that made him wish he could claw his eyes out.

On your bed lied you and a man Jonah didn’t know. You both lied naked under the covers as a condom wrapper along with both of your clothes were spread out across the floor.

Jonah flinched at the sound of your alarm clock going off. The random guy instantly wakes up while you stay fast asleep.

Jonah watched with a clenched heart as the random guy climbed out of bed and began to retrieve his clothing before putting it on. Just as he was putting on his belt, you let out a small groan, pushing your hair out of your face and sitting up, pulling the blanket up to cover your bare chest.

“You’re still here?” You yawned, cocking your head to the side with somewhat narrowed eyes as you try to get used to the sun that came into your room through the window.

“Just leaving,” he flashed you a smile.

“Mkay,” you let out a yawn before going to lie back down.

Jonah felt like he needed to throw up.

“You know, maybe next time we can go get something to eat,” the guy suggested.

You let out a chuckle. “Dylan, you know the arrangement. No strings attached. Plus, you’ve got a girlfriend.”

Jonah let out a small gasp.

“We could go somewhere out of town,” Dylan shrugged.

“You’re not getting the point here, babe,” you toss his watch that you felt underneath you to him. “No strings. No emotions. The only feeling between us is you inside of me.”

Jonah felt sick to his stomach.

“Why can’t we start something. We’ve been fuck buddies for about a year now,” Dylan pointed out.

“Honey, you know you’re one of many,” You sat up, climbing out of bed. “I’ve told you there are four others.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I just can’t help it.” He walks over to you with a lazy grin before bending forwards and placing a kiss on your lips. “You’re breathtaking.”

You smile and give him a look. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.” You grab a random shirt off of your dresser and pull a pair of shorts on.

Dylan let out a sigh before shrugging.

“You do this every time, Dyl,” you pat his cheek.

“Worth a shot. See you next time.”

“Mhm,” you giggle, following him out of your bedroom. Jonah walks after the both of you, his feet feeling heavy - as if he wore boulders as shoes.

As you open the door for Dylan, who was buttoning up the top of his shirt, your eyes widen at the reveal of Veronica and Emilia on the other side of your door.

Veronica gives you a look as Dylan passes them with an awkward smile.

“Hey, guys,” you push your messy hair behind your ear and make room for them to enter.

“Another hookup?” Emilia asked, walking in and making her way straight to your kitchen counter. Jonah observed how much older she appeared to be, either five or six years older to be exact.

“Do you ever get tired of all the guys?” Veronica asks as she places her purse on your kitchen counter. You follow her into the kitchen with a shrug.

“Not really. It’d be more tiring to be in a relationship. With my guys, I screw then loose. It’s easier that way.”

“No, it’s not,” Veronica said, more-so to her daughter who let out a small chuckle.

“When was your last relationship, again?” Emilia asked.

“His name was Connor. Or Clarke. No, I think I dated both of them. And then they both cheated on me,” you tap your chin.

“You always found wrong ones,” Veronica noted.

“They weren’t all bad,” you laugh. “Mike was a nice guy.”

“Before he ghosted you and to this day you don’t know if he’s dead or he just ran away,” Emilia countered.

“And now you see why I do what I do,” you tap your niece’s head. “Guys are all pigs that only have one thing going for them.”

“What’s that?”

“Their bodies.”

“Every time we come here I regret it,” Veronica hums. You roll your shoulders as you turn to your cupboard to grab a cup. “Don’t listen to your aunt, Em. She’s bitter.”

“And it all started with Jonah,” Emilia mindlessly mentioned, not realizing the effect that name had on you. “He’s like super famous now.”

You stand with your back towards them, a shiver running through your bones before you played it off and turned to face them again.

“Yeah, but I’m sure he’s still an asshole,” you huffed. “His mom called me the other day.”

“Seriously? Why?” Veronica furrowed her eyebrows.

“How did she even get your number?” Emilia cocked her head to the side.

“I don’t know. She said she missed me and I told her that I missed her, too. That was my second family growing up.”

“You guys talk about Jonah?” Veronica asked.

“She said that he’s been distant with the family,” you said in a tone to show how little you cared. “He’s apparently never been the same since our breakup.”

“That was six years ago. Dude needs to get over it,” Veronica rolled her eyes.

“I don’t even think it has to do with me,” you honestly say. “Towards the end of our relationship, it seemed like he was dating the studio more than me. I guess he’s still the workaholic I knew.”

"Either way, what he did was douchey,” Emilia concludes. You nod at her, pursing your lips.

“Why are we even talking about him? That was my past and this is my present,” you open your fridge and grab a bottle of juice. “It’s not the life I saw myself in but it’s one I’m not unhappy with.”

Jonah couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort and regret. He looked back at Corbyn just as the blonde clapped his hands.

Jonah kept quiet as the process that he had repeated countlessly throughout the night happened yet again.

This time, they ended up in a room Jonah has yet to see. He furrowed his eyebrows at the foreign scene just as an older version of him walked in.

He appeared to be at least in his mid-30’s.

Future Jonah ran his fingers through his hair and took a seat at the desk that occupied the corner of his room. He turned his laptop on and music began to flow through the room, the melody low.

Jonah left Corbyn’s side and walked up behind his older self, looking over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, only to see that he had opened tabs of social media articles on his screen.

'Jonah Marais Doing Fine on His Own’ marked the one he was currently reading.

“What?” Jonah rhetorically asked as he looked down and began to quickly read the article. “Jonah Marais, a previous member of world-known band Why Don’t We, seems to be doing fine all on his own… said nobody ever. Just as when he left the band, which is still successful to this day, he appears to be the same passive-aggressive stud we all know him as. Every time the thirty-year-old is spotted, he’s alone and always in a bad mood. If we’re taking a guess, it’d have to do with his crappy ice that only spiraled downwards after his breakup with the four-year girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N eleven years ago. Marais has been cooped up in his huge home for the past week. Will he spend Christmas alone again? Maybe. Probably. Most likely… Most definitely…”

Jonah takes a step back, staggering a bit. He watches as Future Jonah shuts the computer off and buried his face in his hands.

“I-I won’t let this happen,” he shook his head. “This hasn’t happened already, right? I can change this.”

Corbyn stays quiet before clapping his hands together once. Jonah instantly saw pitch black before opening his eyes.

He sat up, taking deep and harsh breaths, his eyes instantly scanning his surroundings. He let out a large sigh when seeing that he was in his living room, exactly where he started.

Jonah instantly got up and went to grab his keys before rushing out of his home and to his car. He had three goals on his mind, and you were one of his main priorities.

It didn’t take long for him to reach your apartment and it also didn’t take long for him to rush upstairs and to your door.

His heart was beating with anxiety as he hesitantly knocked on your door with his knuckles. He had no clue what he’d say or how he’d convince you to forgive him, but he knew he had to do it.

When your door slowly opened, Jonah felt everything physically, mentally and visually slow down. The second he saw you, he nearly fainted.

“Jonah,” you murmured, shocked with his appearance. Your voice was soft and music to his ears.

“I love you,” he mustered up. “I love you so much, Y/N, it hurts.”

You stared at him with sadness in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he shook his head. “I don’t know what was wrong with me and I don’t know why it took me two weeks to finally realize that you are one of the most important things in my life and letting you walk away was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, besides not give you the attention and affection you deserve.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as a load of emotion just hit you.

“Why now?” You cried, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Because I was scared and afraid that you’d never look at me again or take me back. But then today, all the courage I needed piled within me and I realized that I would never get a second chance by avoiding you.”

You cried more when you saw the tears brimming in his eyes as well.

“Four years, Y/N. Four years we spent together and I don’t regret a second of it. I should’ve gone after you.”

“You were the one who suggested we break up, Jonah,” you shake your head. “You chose your music over me.”

“That was a mistake,” he declared. “A mistake I’ll never make again. Please, just forgive me. I love you so fucking much and another day without you would be hell, just like every day we’ve gone without one another.”

You were silent for a moment, reaching your hand up to wipe the tears from your cheeks away.

"I love you more than anything, Jonah,” you finally say. His entire face brightens and he instantaneously pulled you into his arm. He repeatedly kissed the top of your head as he hugged him back. “Please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’m never leaving your side,” he closed his eyes. “I’d be nothing without you,” he murmured into your hair. Little did you know how accurate that was.

---

Svea and Esther helped set up the dining room table as Christmas music played in the background. Their parents worked in the kitchen as spirits were neutral.

They were all missing Jonah, but there was nothing to do about it. Christmas just wouldn’t be the same without him.

Esther was placing the plates where they belonged and Svea was setting out the glasses and silverware when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Esther called out before making her way to the door, dusting her hands against her pants. She opened it quickly and that was the moment a scream left her throat.

There, on the front porch, stood you and Jonah, both in winter wear and suitcases by your sides.

“What is it!” Her mother rushed to see who was at the door, along with Svea and her husband.

It was then that the shouts and screams escalated.

---

Crappy ending but I need to post this before Christmas is over

---

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a-gay-bloodmage · 7 years

Note

Hmmm, time to get to know a bit about everyone x) Can you do 2, 4, 8, 15, and 17 for the oc asks I haven't seen yet? Thanks so much, I love getting to know about your ocs :)

I’m going to be answering for my Dragon Age OCs, but I’ve got more in a non-DA setting for an original story I’m working on! If you want to learn about those, send an ask to @daughter-of-war

I’m more than happy to answer!

As usual, this got quite long! More under the cut!

2. Do any of your OCs have a physical disability?

You know what? None of my Wardens really do. I should try to work on making more diverse characters, but as of now, I think I’ll include Redren, because over-use of his magic can lead to pretty bad anemia, which is always there to a degree. And Maria, one of my non-warden OCs, is mostly blind.

4. Does your OC have anything they take pride in? (Like an award or collection?)

Redren takes immense pride in his blood magic, something he’s always defined himself as. His entire life revolved around the singular fact that he was a Blood Mage, and he learned to take pride in it. To him, the only part of himself he could take pride in was what he couldn’t ever change. Unfortunately, nobody in the world seemed to think blood magic was anything to take pride in.

Orest takes pride in his nature, seeing his personality as the most important thing about himself. His ability to have compassion, and to make people laugh, is one of his favorite things about himself. He’s not vain, but he is self-confident. To Orest, the best anyone can be is their best, and he’s proud to say that he’s doing the best he can.

Faelyn takes pride in her friends. She’d lived so long with only her cousins as friends, as soon as she found companionship in Alistair, and Morrigan, and Leliana, and Zevran, and even in Shale, Wynne, and Oghren, she sees it as one of the best things she’d ever accomplished. Sten’s still a work in progress, but she’ll get there some day!

Andrea is quite vain and self-centered at the beginning of her story, making her social status the most valued aspect of herself, something she took immense pride in. Eventually, she learned to see past that fairly narcissistic view of herself, but in the start of it all, her place in the world as the Arl of Highever’s only daughter gave her all the pride in the world.

Hundir was similar to Andrea, but as soon as he was cast from Orzammar, the object of his pride moved to his battleaxe, the weapon that led him through the Deep Roads became his source of pride, the dark crimson stain of Darkspawn blood helping him hold his head up high.

Gemma takes pride in her brand. To many casteless, the brand is an awful reminder of what they are, the failure of their birth, but as soon as she joined the Wardens, she held her head up high, pulling the hair out of her face to show the world the black brand on her face. She’d smile as she thought of what those back in Orzammar would think, to see a casteless girl take pride in her branding as worthless. Because she knew she wasn’t worthless.

8. Do you ship any 2 of your OCs?

None of my Wardens, no, but I do have a few original couples!

Jo and Renee Bircann, from Orlais, are one! Jo is genderfluid, who switches from biologically and mentally male to biologically and mentally female at random, with Jo’s birth gender being unknown (this way people can’t really call it a “fake gender”, because s/he is “actually” fe/male on any given day. Loophole, transphobes!) And Renee is his/her wife, a lesser noble-born woman forced to run from the Orlesian nobility due to her magic that manifested when she was fourteen. The two started their relationship when both of them were fleeing Orlais, meeting in the Orlesian side of the mountains near Orzammar, with Renee immediately captivated by the rugged-looking “man” in the mountains. Luckily, Renee is bisexual, and very attracted to both women and men. Jo is just two lovers in one!

Maria and Bethany are another couple! Maria is one of my most developed non-Warden OCs, seeing as she’s central to Redren’s story. An approximately 600 year old Tevinter-born sorceress, Maria is in a relationship with Bethany, a spirit of an ancient tribal princess of the nomadic Enchanted Wood Tribe of the forests of the Anderfels and Orlais. They started their relationship when Maria invited Bethany out of the Fade as a fully-formed apparition about 500 years ago, as she had been there for 500 years already, fully aware, but with no way to get back to the world of the living.

15. Do any of your OCs have pets?

All of my Wardens got the Mabari companion! How could I resist giving each of them a puppy?

Redren named his mabari Dog, because it’s simple and he couldn’t think of anything better in the moment. The name stuck, in the end, despite Alistair’s protests against naming a warhound Dog.

Orest named his mabari companion Anga, Tolkien Elven for Iron. He thought it was pretty cool, and a tough dog deserves a tough name!

Faelyn decided to call her mabari Puppy! Her first instinct was to call out "puppy!" when she saw him, so yeah, she kept the name. Cute, isn’t it?

Andrea called her mabari Prince, and she treated him like one. She’d play with him in the Highever Castle gardens, and read books with him, and brush his fur, in short, she spoiled that dog rotten. And after she lost everything except that dog, she treasured him more than anything in Thedas.

Hundir, the ever so tough Aeducan, named his new mabari Ripper. He liked how tough and intimidating it was, and over the course of the Blight, yeah, that dog earned that name tenfold.

Gemma named her mabari Flower after her favorite thing on the Surface. She had never seen a mabari before, so she was very excited over the idea of having one to call her own. The pretty little flower that saved it is forever remembered in her mabari’s name.

17. Do you have any OCs you haven’t posted about?

Maria, who I’m in the process of writing a “write-up” post about, is honestly a really fun character to develop! She’s loud, and outgoing, and certainly the pinnacle of the older-sister type. She is the one largely responsible for raising Redren, with the help of her mother, Alda, and her Dearest, Bethany. She’s been blind for nearly six hundred years, after being bound to the Fade by the magic of spirit-channeling and Necromancy. To say she’s a living corpse is untrue, but she is essentially frozen as an eighteen-year-old for the foreseeable future. She’s able to see the spirits of people, animals, and living plants, making her able to navigate with no problem. Spirits free from the “prison” that is the mortal flesh are able to be seen with perfect clarity for her. She’s slightly infamous from Tevinter to Ferelden, however, known to many as an Enchantress that seduced men who later went “missing.” Human blood is incredibly good for potions and food, in her mind. She gave up the habit about two hundred years ago, but that doesn’t stop her from telling story after story about the fun she had with the witch-burners and Templars before they died, though.

Bethany, as mentioned above, was a tribal princess of the Enchanted Wood Tribe of Orlais and the Anderfels. Elf-blooded a million times over, due to the mixture of elf and human makeup of the nomadic tribe, Bethany was considered the most beautiful of her tribe, with wavy blonde hair to her ankles and green-blue eyes, she was sacrificed to Desire Demons in order to keep her tribe alive through the unpredicted and harsh winter. She sacrificed herself willingly, but she’s always wondered what happened to her beloved tribe. She’s a full-bodied and fully aware ghost now, forever reminded of her sacrifice by the large hole though her chest where her heart was taken, and her eternal forced nudity. She doesn’t mind the nudity, though.

Alda, Maria’s mother, and Bethany’s Dear Mother, is the matriarch of the village all my Dragon Age OCs live in, which is made of nearly all apostates driven from their homes or Circle escapees. She’s a proud Andrastian, but not opposed to the Ancient Elven or Tribal Gods and Goddesses. She’s a kind and loving old lady, physically around 70, as she stopped her aging after her daughter. A spirit healer, she’s kept alive in the same type of way Wynne is, except she chose to be kept alive by the Fade. She’s incredibly matronly, and helped to raise Redren as his Auntie.

And many more, but way less developed ones!

I’m also making playlists for each of my Wardens, so if you have any requests for what character I should prioritize, please reply! Thanks~!

#asks #i love answering these!!#i am so happy god bless #redren #my ocs #orest mahariel #faelyn tabris #andrea cousland #gemma brosca #hundir aeducan #jo bircann #renee bircann #bethany #maria #alda #dragon age #da warden #original content #original character

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theinternetinterviewed · 5 years

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Crazy Mike, A Love Sprinkler Who Lives In His Vhouse [Van/House]

Interviewing Crazy Mike is like watching an episode of Planet Earth — — the one about birds in New Guinea who have no predators and spend all their time singing, dressing up, and building color-coordinated homes. Most of Planet Earth is about animals that have survival claws and competition brains so to see an animal that has zero of those concerns…it’s amazing what they do with their time.

If you don’t know Crazy Mike: he is a vlogger, lives in a van and travels around America, and is an ex-stuntman. Crazy Mike was doing a stunt on the set of the movie Ghost Rider 2 where he was supposed to drive a motorcycle up a ramp and into a lake but instead flew over and broke many bones. Before reading this interview, watch his video BULLSH*T and the rest of who Crazy Mike is will be made clear.

A: Oh my God. Is this Crazy Mike?

M: This is Mr. Crazy Mike.

A: Holy motherfucking God. How are you doing?

M: I was trying to FaceTime you. I guess you don’t have a FaceTime option?

A: No. I only have an Android. Is FaceTime on there? I don’t use it too much.

M: Sorry to hear that. iPhones are better.

A: They are. I’ve just had an Android since high school and haven’t switched off.

M: That’s the same thing I say about the iPhone. I just don’t want to switch.

A: Real talk.

M: *laughs* Let’s have a real talk. What is this about? Can you give me a rundown?

A: I like interviewing people. I’m an interview junkie. I love reading interviews. I stumbled on your YouTube channel a month ago, binge watched everything, and think you’re a dope motherfucker. M: Thank you, man. I noticed you’re from New Jersey, dude. I grew up there.

A: Hell yea.

M: I have…I had a 732 area code and everything. 732 is my whole town.

A: I’m from Middlesex County.

M: My family lives in Monmouth County.

A: I was looking at some of your old clips and I didn’t recognize any of the spots but I recognized the trees.

M: Those are some Jersey trees. Thanks for reaching out.

A: It’s a pleasure. I just wanted to give you fifty bucks but then I figured, “Hey, I’ll interview him too so there’s a little activity.”

M: Yeah. I like to actually do things for money. I don’t like to just get money. I used to. People would be like, “Let me send you 20 bucks.” I’m like, “Yo, let me make you a piece of jewelry or something.” I want to always do something. I’m about that life. SLAWAA all the way. [Sprinkle Love And Work Across America.]

A: My first question for you, well, it’s actually a statement and question, is: You are an excellent filmmaker. And in your lifetime you’ve edited many different videos. If all of those videos were played one after the other, how long would the film be?

M: Are you trying to watch it?

A: *laughs* I’m curious. If you calculated everything, would it be 10 hours? 30 hours?

M: I would say more like 10 years. I have a lot man. I’ve been doing this since I was right out of school with the VCRs back in the day probably before you were born. How old are you?

A: I’m 26.

M: Oh, you remember VCRs. You remember the Myspace days. I started around that era and have been doing it since. I pop out an edit a week so I’m going to say, realistically, you’d have to sit down for 3 years non-stop. You’d have to pee and shit and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner while watching my work.

A: *Laughs* What got you into shooting your own videos? How old were you?

M: I stole my Dad’s video camera and played around with it with my friends. I was in third grade at the time, 9 years old. At this auction, I got a VHS tape called Crusty Demons of Dirt which is like dirt bikes, action-packed, ya know, dirt bike tricks and it’s an hour of that and it inspired the fuck out of me. When I watched it, I was like, “Damn. I want to make that.” A year later, I started filming random shit and then four years later I started getting featured in that Crusty Demon series. From there, I took off.

A: Do you remember your first editing software? Windows Movie Maker?

M: Well it was VCRs so putting two VCRs together was my editing software. I would film on a tape and connect it to another VCR and hit play and record and play and record, back and forth, to make a tape that I sold in high school. I was a freshman selling my VHS tapes called Dead Troopers.

A: It was stunts and skits?

M: Yea. A mix between Jackass and Girls Gone Wild and the X Games.

A: I don’t think most people realize how much fun editing is. Would you talk about the fun of editing for a minute?

M: Editing is really fun when you enjoy what you’re editing, the footage, and you enjoy telling a story. It’s really fun. I love it. I absolutely love it. But when someone gives me a bunch of wedding footage and tells me to edit their wedding, it’s not that fun. The whole creation process is when you shoot the footage, it’s your footage, and you get to work with that footage. A lot of the times I have the edit already envisioned in my head when I shoot something. I’m talking about natural transitions. I’ll crank the camera a certain way because I know my next clip will be cranked that way. *pause* It’s like a tattoo artist. If the tattoo artist has a blank canvas to work with they enjoy it a lot more than doing a cover-up of someone’s ugly ass armadillo tattoo on their chest.

A: I hate ugly armadillo tattoos.

M: The guy in Jackass had an ugly armadillo tattoo on his arm. Dave England. That’s why I came up with the ugly armadillo just now.

A: *laughs* Have you ever met the Jackass guys?

M: I probably met about half of them. I never did any work with them. I used to work with Don Vito when we were doing We Play Crazy. Any time we had a big event, Bam’s Uncle came out and he was pretty hot at the time so my whole thing was, “Buy a DVD and get a picture with Don Vito.” All of these kids bought these DVDs and got their photo taken.

A: A couple of YouTube videos ago, you had a call with someone in Bam Margera’s camp about video editing work? Did that pan out?

M: Chad Ginsburg, the singer of CKY reached out to me and told me, “Bam Margera is looking for an editor.” I called and never got a phone call back. So, he either got a new editor or hit the booze.

A: That son of a gun.

M: *laughs*

A: Are there days where you shut the camera off and think, “Yes! I caught gold today.” Do you get that feeling?

M: Totally. All the time. Sometimes I shut the camera off and I don’t know that I have gold until later on. I do this new thing called “unknowingly knowing” where I have the camera on and don’t know it’s recording. I capture great shit off of it. Real moments, man. Anytime you shove a camera in someone’s face — most of the time they’re not really themselves because they know they’re being filmed. But when they don’t know it’s beautiful. I find it more beautiful that way.

A: The truth of the moment. Can you give me an example of something you caught on film but only realized later on?

M: I’ve been keeping my camera on my dashboard so when people come up… for instance, I had a cop yesterday knock on my window and wake me up. I call it “unknowingly knowing.” I know I put [the camera] there and hit record but after a while I forget it’s there. I don’t sit and pay it attention. I’m paying attention to, “Oh. I have a cop in my face. Let me keep my focus on him.” The camera just rolls. Those are the moments where I capture the truth of the moment.

A: Can you tell me the psychological difference between when someone is acting differently on camera and what’s happening when they’re relaxing?

M: The difference is flexing. You got someone with a camera and it’s like, “Yeah I’m going to flex for YouTube. AHH YEAA LETS GET CRAZY.” And then when I put the camera down, they’ll be like, “This is a nice day.” And then whatever happens happens without a flex to it. Which are still beautiful moments. But a lot of people don’t realize [they’re flexing]. I’m even speaking of myself. The only reason I know so much about this is because I speak in terms of my experience. I know how to emphasize the moment. When I see a camera it’s like, camera up — Hollywood time, “BAM. YO, WHATSUP. THIS IS CRAZY MIKE, BABY, ARE YOU READY FOR THE NEW VIDEO? YOOOO.”

A: *laughs*

M: Crazy Mike is always overemphasizing the real Mike. My Crazy Mike way of introducing myself is, “YOOO. It’s Crazy Mike.” My Mike way of introducing myself is, “Hey. How you doing? My name is Mike. Nice to meet you.”

A: It’s interesting that some people don’t realize they’re acting different. They’re unconsciously doing it.

M: There’s also that category of people who, when you put a camera in front of their face, they go completely still. They’re like, “Oh, what’s up.” [boring voice]. It goes both ways.

A: How funny is it when you’re watching your footage and you see the exact moment when a person looks directly at the camera and realizes it’s there?

M: Those are hilarious. I got this old guy [working in a toll booth] that I was chatting with and he’s being cool with me and telling me, “Oh yeah, if you don’t have a real license plate on there then just don’t pay the tolls.” I’m filming him talking the whole time. He even said something like, “you could get me in trouble…” so when he realized the camera was there all of a sudden the conversation stopped. I knew in the moment, “Damn he must have just seen the camera.” Sure enough, I was looking back at that footage and it’s clear as day. He stopped talking to me and put his head down and covered his name tag. He did some, “Yo, yo, you got me. I just said you can go through tolls. Shit. I’m going to lose my job.”

A: Tell me about your toll road jokes. Where did they start?

M: My toll road jokes? Well, they’re not really jokes. It’s far from funny actually. Tolls, I hate tolls so much. I’ve driven through so many. They’re ridiculous. The idea of it, the fact that you have to stop and pay dollars — it’s like $25 to get into New York City. Random roads in Pennsylvania are $20. If I’m paying to drive on the road… it sounds crazy. I’ll pay for registration, for insurance but why do I have to pay to drive on the road? Whoever created that idea, “Let’s charge people to drive on the road,” I think is completely fucked in the head. I’m super against it. I don’t complain about it too much anymore because I realized this thing on Google Maps that avoids tolls so I’m the guy who will drive three hours out of the way to avoid paying the toll. But the good thing is, I’d always be nice to the people at the toll booth. It was never their fault. My thing was, I would give them the money and act like, “What? I pay you money, huh?” I’d act surprised. I knew I had to but I acted surprised. But I’m telling the truth when I’m acting, like, “What the fuck? That’s crazy.” I give them the money, tell them have a nice day, and then say, “Fuck the government,” right after it. Most of the time, 7 out of 10 people will laugh with me or say, “Fuck the government too. It sucks.”

A: We talked earlier about how I live in Jersey. You live in Jersey. That is one similarity. I smoke weed. You smoke weed. That’s another similarity. But there’s a big difference I’m curious about. You have a medical marijuana card, which is gold in New Jersey. How did you get that?

M: I just went to the doctor. Everybody has an issue. It can be something small like appetite, or depression, anxiety — whatever you want to say. Just go to the doctor and give the doctor money and the doctor is guaranteed to write you a script for medical marijuana. You get two ounces per month in New Jersey.

A: Do you have to go to a funny doctor?

M: You have to go to a doctor who does medical marijuana. There’s a list of doctors on this website…NJ… New Jersey Medical Marijuana program…so NJMMP, I think it’s called. It’s a list of all New Jersey doctors that have access to the medical marijuana industry. You can’t go to a random physician and say, “I’m seeking that.” You have to go to a marijuana doctor. Tell them what [issue] you have and say that friends have suggested… “I was wondering… if it would be a good idea….” You can even say it helps you out to simplify what you’re trying to do… “Yeah, when I smoke it helps my social anxiety…I’m just saying.” A doctor will write you a script within an hour.

A: Share your thoughts on weed, your general thoughts on how awesome it is.

M: It cures the soul. It’s a blessing. It helps everything. Can you abuse it? Yes. You can also abuse water. I don’t think you need to smoke as much as some people do. I’ve been there before where I smoke and smoke and smoke and smoke and I didn’t find it enjoyable. I found my enjoyment by taking breaks. When I come back to it, it makes me appreciate it more. Now I don’t travel with it. I usually only have a gram at a time so I can eat it if I get pulled over because some States arrest you for it. Most of the time when I smoke is when I do these house calls all over the country. Whoever is there or happens to have weed, I’ll smoke with them. Which is not everyday. I’ll go three days without visiting anyone. I’ll go three days living in the woods or in a truck stop where I don’t know anybody. But on that fourth day, when I do smoke, I appreciate it so much more. It opens me up like, “Wow.”

A: “I only carry as much as I can eat.” That’s hilarious and makes so much sense.

M: After spending six months in jail, I had to change it up.

A: How did that time change your philosophy? Did you get a new perspective on things in jail?

M: Totally. I have a folder full of writing I did in jail. Jail, I look back on and think, man, maybe I needed to be there — complete solitude, no technology. When you’re by yourself for that long you learn about yourself. You have no outside distractions. Not that I wanted to do that but I was forced to do it and I took it the best way I could. I wrote a whole bunch of stuff, whatever idea I was having, whatever happened to me that day. I have hundreds of pieces of paper. My plan was when I did finally get out I would turn it into visual stories. And I did it already with some. It’s kind of how Trippy Talks came about, when I just talk. I do a voiceover. I write whatever I want to talk about and I do a voiceover and mix it with clips. That whole style of editing came from jail because when I was in jail, all I did was write. I wrote before but never as much as I did in jail. I have all these writings and I was like, “Damn. These are pretty beautiful and I want to share my thoughts. What is the best way to do it?” For me, it’s making them into visual stories.

A: In your Quarterly Report you gave a Trippy Talk and in your Risk of Living video and also in your My (kinda) Serious job Application. How important is it for a person to have a philosophy?

M: Philosophy is your beliefs in something. I think it’s important and yet it’s not important. You don’t have to believe anything. You can just be. I don’t think it’s necessary to have a philosophy on something. Having a philosophy though brings enjoyment out of life by the way you think, so, my way of thinking has brought me enjoyment in my life. I make videos the way I make videos, to share that, to hopefully get other people to get enjoyment the way I get enjoyment. But is it necessary to have a philosophy? Absolutely not. You don’t have to believe anything. That’s the truth of the matter.

A: Word, word.

M: But you have to believe you’re going to die one day because it’s true.

A: Why is that a necessary belief? Of all the beliefs possible?

M: That’s one thing everybody has in common — me, you, and the rest of this world. Our mothers, brothers, fathers, sisters, friends, and dogs…we all go away one day. We’re born and we die. As far as what happens in the middle, you can believe whatever you want. The beautiful thing about it is we have a choice. We can choose to focus on whatever we want to focus on and it determines a human being — their way of thinking. If I sat and watched the news all day and focused on the war and Donald Trump…fuck, my life would suck. It would be full of politics, bullshit. But if I focus on the arts of life, the creativeness of life, then life becomes creative. My life becomes what I want it to. You choose who you follow on Instagram. If you follow a girl who talks negative all the time, that’s what you’re going to see on your Instagram every time it pops up. “Oh life sucks. When is it going to end?” Every day that’s going to be on your news feed. You make the choice, which is a beautiful thing. You choose what you believe.

A: There are messages that you often put on your videos, for example, free thinking is welcome — can you tell me more about those messages?

M: Free thinking is welcome is… I welcome hate, positive comments, whatever you think, hey, say it. It’s cool. I don’t delete comments. I let them be. I guess I used to think I could control that but at the end of the day I’m controlling someone’s thinking and I don’t want to do that. I make what I make, maybe, to alter their thinking. But I allow them to say whatever they want to say. It’s a free country. Well, almost free. We have freedom of speech. We can say whatever we feel. Sometimes it might get us in trouble, sometimes in might not, but I promote that. Everything I say, not everyone is going to agree with it and I’m well aware of that. Especially when I talk about things like the military, religion — topics people are uptight about. There is going to be a lot of disagreement. So, I say share your thoughts. Why do you think a certain way? I don’t really appreciate the comment…*adjusts* I don’t respect the comments where it’s like, “You’re an idiot.” Tell me why I’m an idiot. Tell me why you think the way you think or why you think I’m wrong but tell me why. I encourage that. If you hit me with a legitimate response, okay, maybe I have something to think over now. Maybe I just learned something.

A: Speaking of the people who do agree with you, your community, how dope is it to have that many people around the country who will hook you up with a bed or a meal?

M: It’s pretty cool. I am blessed. It’s funny because sometimes I…I like my days off when I don’t really see anybody. My days off are when I’m chilling in nature by myself. I like to be alone. I’m never lonely. But I’m alone a lot. There is a difference. I like the parties and I like the friends and the social interactions, sure, but I also love my alone time. There have been so many times where I have to say, “Yeah, I’ll be in town…” Or maybe I won’t even post my location and I won’t see anybody by choice. But going back to your question, the fact that I have a support system up in here is a beautiful thing. I don’t think I’ll ever go hungry. I just have to post on Snapchat where I’m at. Every city I’m in, so far, there has been someone who says, “Yo, come over, hang out.” My house calls are usually a shower, a bed, and I’m taken care of. A lot of the time they’re like, “I don’t want you to leave. Stay around for weeks.” I’m a love sprinkler. I sprinkle a little bit.

A: If given the chance, would you write a book?

M: Totally. I love writing.

A: Not only a life story book but the way you perceive things, your feelings about things.

M: 100%. I would. My writing is…I kind of already do that but I don’t write words on paper. I write into a visual story.

A: You need a speech-to-text app. It’ll turn what you say automatically into words.

M: I do that with my phone if I’m driving and I have a thought. I’ll punch in my microphone and talk. Later I’ll go back and … what is that word called? Edit *laughs* What do you call it? Edit that shit!

A: *laughs* You’re an editor aren’t you?

M: Edit that shit! Like a finalized edit…proofread that was the word I was thinking of. Yeah I love it, man. I love books.

A: When is Hella Crazy 5 coming out?

M: Ahh…man..you know… I don’t think I’m going to bring it back. There has been…life is full of change. There’s been a change. First of all, DVDs aren’t anything anymore. Seeing a DVD is kind of like, “What the fuck is that?” Kids these days would be like, “If that’s not on my cell phone, I don’t want that.” I still love stunts. I’ll forever love stunts. I do them when I have the chance. But to make a whole project about it just isn’t my style. I’m now more into… I like the vlogging life. I like bits. I still always have the love for it but its not what I promote 100% anymore.

A: If your vhouse [house/van] life ends, would you ever make a full length documentary? Or do you strictly see your adventure as 10 minute long videos?

M: Maybe a 20 minute piece. I have so much footage from my YouTube that I can collect and collect and put it together to make something beautiful. Again, I just go off feelings. I don’t plan to make projects. I don’t know what videos I’m doing the next day. It just happens. All of my Trippy Talks are just feelings I have at that time. I don’t force myself to write or make a video. I don’t have trouble with it, like, “What sort of topic should I focus on now?” It just comes to me. It bursts out of me in a natural way. BAM. I go with the day. I won’t plan for that but, will it happen? Judging off of past experiences, yeah, when I end a big trip for a tour, I’ll make a compilation. My quarterly reports are kind of like that. My Snapchat Adventure I did on Snapchat, I traveled for a hundred days, that was planned. After a hundred days, I would stop traveling. I had all this footage and I was going to make a movie. I’ve done it before. Will it happen again? I don’t know. We will see how that cookie crumbles.

A: Where did you get love sprinkling from? Where did you get the idea?

M: Just me, man. I was trying to figure out what I do. I was a love sprinkler. I sprinkle love everywhere. Not physically with glitter. The glitter came later. I thought, “Man, I’m a love sprinkler.” I’m going everywhere like, “Yo, I just want to spread love and good vibes to everybody.” I make people happy just by chilling so I called it love sprinkling. Then I was in Walmart one day and saw glitter and was like, “That would be cool if I could actually love sprinkle people.” I took the glitter and started sprinkling it on people’s heads and they became so happy from it so I stuck with her. I’m still doing it three years later.

A: How many people in total have you love sprinkled?

M: I do about five a day. So, so many, thousands…thousands…

A: Tell me some things about Jersey, about being born and growing up here.

M: Well, you live there. You can answer that question.

A:I know but I want to hear your answer, if you have any vibes to share.

M: I love New Jersey but I love everywhere I go. I make the best of it. I didn’t like it after a while. I was always like, “Man, I just want to get out of here.” I wanted to get out of living with my family because I don’t like living anywhere for long periods of time which is what I learned about myself. The best thing about traveling is brain stimulation. *pause* I didn’t like [New Jersey] but then again I didn’t have any true reason not to like it. That was just me wanting to move around. That’s what it came down to. But I think it’s pretty cool, man. I have no regrets. Well, my only regret is that I probably would have dropped out of high school sooner. Or dropped out of High School period. I never even dropped out. I actually graduated. But it served no purpose to my life. So I’d probably bring that back and drop out of High School but as far as where I lived — I think it was pretty awesome. I lived five minutes away from Six Flags Great Adventure. Kind of cool. I grew up in the township called Millstone Township. It’s right by Six Flags. It was cool, man. It was cool growing up. We had a lot of farms to fuck around on. We didn’t have Township police. We got away with a lot of the shit we did. It’s definitely a cool State, bro. I got a tattoo of it on my back. I’ve got a heart with everything I love.

A: Sometimes when people ask you where your from, you’ll say something funny like from my mom’s vagina. Why is that?

M: Because it’s a question I get asked all the time. Sometimes I just have to say something stupid because after saying the same thing over and over again it gets tiring. Like anything, I switch it up and catch people off guard that way.

A: You listen to Alan Watts. Can you tell me about him?

M: Oh, I’m on 27%. I can get off the charger now. I was sitting by my charger the whole time. My phone was on 2% when I called you.

A: Bro. Damn.

M: But now I’m good. I’m going to open the door around here. It’s hot as a mother fucker.

A:Where are you right now?

M: I’m in a truck stop headed towards Bakersfield, California. Yea, Alan Watts is a… he’s helped me so much. I listen to his lectures. Alan Watts has a stylistic way of speaking and getting down to the truth. He’s one of my inspirations and he’s shaped the way I think. If I could put him, Terence McKenna, Joe Rogan — if I could put the three of these guys in a blender… WHIRRRRRRR… out would pop a Crazy-Mike-thinking smoothie.

A: *laughs*

M: And damn it tastes good!

A: For the readers of this interview who don’t know who Alan Watts is, can you give a summary?

M: He’s a philosopher who is about the right now in life. He speaks a lot about religion, a lot of his lectures are complex to the point where I don’t even really know what the fuck he’s talking about a lot of the time. Especially when he goes into his religion. Some topics are more blunt than others. He has a really cool voice, a chill voice so a lot of times I would just listen to him at night before I go to sleep. His voice alone would be warming to my heart. And to my mind.

A: Between the We Play Crazy days and now, when did you discover Allan Watts?

M: I discovered him when I first bought this van that I’m living in right now and I started doing van life on my Snapchat adventures. I had all this time to be on the road and listen to music and observe other people’s creations. I get a lot of snapbacks and somebody was like, “Yo, man you should listen to this Alan Watts guy.” I guess I was already doing things [Alan Watts] was talking about so somebody thought I would like him and I fucking loved him. I played him and went, “Wow. This guy is fucking smart. He knows what’s up.” Then I started listening to him lecture after lecture. I’ve heard them all. I’ve read a couple of his books. I’m still a big fan. Just yesterday I was playing his shit.

A: My final stuff is: Can you give three tips to anyone contemplating van life? Three things they should know.

M: Be okay with small spaces. Be okay with parking in public lots. And you might get kicked out. You have to be okay with that. The third thing is: enjoy the ride. Enjoy the fuckin’ ride, dog, cause, let me tell you, it is free.

A: During your bicycle trip through Vietnam, you learned a lot about social skills through body language because you didn’t speak a common language. I found that fascinating. Can you give some remarks about social skills?

M: Social skills are built off experience. Some of the fucking best social skills out there I’ve noticed are from homeless people on a street asking for money. They have so much interaction throughout the day with people. So you learn how to talk to people. That’s all practice. I think our world is afraid to talk to people that they don’t know. They shy away. But every person you back away from is another person you lost. I think I have excellent social skills now. I talk to fifty people a day.

A: My final question is, how can I get my hands on Hella Crazy 3 and Hella Crazy 4 and, more importantly, Crazy Mike Is Dead?

M: Crazy Mike Is Dead… what I’ll do is I’ll send you a link after we hang up, a private link. Hella Crazy 3 and 4, I don’t know. They’re kind of lost in the market. My brother might have some. They might even be online. I wouldn’t be able to get you that.

A: I’ll keep searching.

M: Maybe *pause* Oh, no. I was going to say you can get 1 and 2 on Amazon. I have a distribution deal.

A: Yeah. They just came in the mail. I just got them.

M: Oh nice! Yeah it’s crazy. I don’t even get paid from that anymore. *laughs*

A: Son of a gun.

M: I’ll send you Crazy Mike Is Dead. It’s pretty cool. It’s powerful. It was the first film where I completely opened up on and I was crying and shit. But, yeah, Hella Crazy 3 and 4, I’ll have to say keep hunting because your hunt is my hunt.

A: Thank you for this interview, Crazy Mike. This was a nice time.

M: You’re very welcome, kind sir.

A: I’ll send you a link to this when I write it all up.

M: Cool, man.

A: Have a good day.

M: God bless your soul.

God bless you too, Mike. God bless your bliss. I support your movement of one and appreciate you leading by example for those of us who watch. Do continue telling visual stories. I wonder how we, those who don’t live on the road and have to pay rent, can benefit from your philosophy. We can at least be entertained by your videos. We can learn your openness towards people, your willingness to let surprises happen. I know, actually. Those Mike-thinking smoothies, we can try those. If you blended a batch, they would be best-sellers in the merch store. Do you think you could set that up? I’d like mine with love sprinkles.

Interview conducted 5-2-19.

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idreamofhazel · 7 years

Text

Life on the Road

Written for @atc74 and @mamaredd123‘s Fabulous 300 Challenge

Prompts: Drivin’ My Life Away by Eddie Rabbit, main character kills someone, acceptance

Characters/Pairing: Reader, Sam, Dean

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning: You kill someone

Paved roads, gravel roads, dirt roads, any roads--you’ve driven them all. It’s been at least two years, maybe more, maybe less, since you left home. You’ve never really kept track of the time. You had intended to find a job, an apartment, roots somewhere--anywhere really--but instead you found that the open road called your name and you didn’t need roots; you just needed gasoline and places to go. There was this diner and that diner, this landmark and that landmark, so many places to see and experience, none of them important in your family’s eyes, but all of them worthwhile to you. It was the same routine everyday but with new people, new landscapes, and new foods. You weren’t sure if you’d found yourself yet either, but life had found you one way or another, in the form of a 1972 Chevy Cheyenne and rubber meeting the road. You were content.

Some people thought you to be lonely, and you had to admit, sometimes they were right, but most often they were wrong. You made new friends everyday. There was the waitress in Boise, the gas station clerk outside Waco, and your motel neighbor in Springfield, all of them pleasant to chat with and decent creatures who brightened your day. If you ever did feel alone, there was your cell and then there were countless places to be, all with cheerful faces and amicable patrons graced with that southern charm that seemed to sweep from coast to coast if you hit the right towns. They had to be small or moderately sized, often in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes in the suburbs of a larger city. It just depended.

Life on the road was a breeze most of the time. You had your savings, your poker and pool skills, and the odd jobs you picked up. This week, you were in a town called Reo working in housekeeping. You’d find the oddest things working those kinds of jobs, things people thought they had hidden well but they didn’t, both physical and otherwise. You learned that the guest in room 215 liked to watch Spanish soap operas because he always left the tv on that channel and you found out the one in 407 may have OCD because of the immaculate state of the room every time you went to clean it. Those were all decent discoveries that kept you entertained, but the most interesting thing you ever found was partially because of your job and partially because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. That happened on Tuesday. By Wednesday, you were on the road again, running away instead of just running.

The two men staying in room 126 weren’t the cleanest men, but they weren't the messiest either. They seemed to like beer and porn mags and flannel shirts and they were out of the motel more often than they were in it. Tuesday morning, you were making your rounds through the halls, pushing your cart along and checking any rooms that were absent of “do not disturb signs”, when you saw the two men walking to their room. Usually, you made it to their room while they were gone. They appeared to be just getting in from being out all night and, if that weren't enough to make you curious about what they were doing, their conversation was.

“I can’t believe we have to start over now. I thought you had the research right!”

“It fit the description of a ghost sickness. Even you thought so!”

They promptly shut their mouths once they noticed you passing them in the hall. You made a mental note not to talk to them and to spend time as little time in their room possible. They sounded crazy.

You forgot about the incident completely after retiring to your own room in another motel across town later that night. It was twelve am. You had your feet propped up on the coffee table watching one of the few movies playing on cable and thinking you should probably hit the hay soon when it happened.

Your door fell down. All in one piece, hinges breaking off the wall and splintering wood, drywall dust flying everywhere; all with a loud bang and a shriek from you. A man walked in, tall, burly, and dressed in a green henley. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sickly pale, but he didn’t act as if his condition inhibited his physical ability. In fact, he stepped right across the door and ran towards you. You almost couldn’t move, freezing only momentarily before coming to your senses and jumping off the couch. The only place you could think of was the bathroom, so you ran there and locked yourself in.

That was a stupid decision really, considering this man had shown you his ability to break down doors. You stood there, in the middle of the small bathroom, just waiting, mentally kicking yourself as you shook with rapid breaths. Just as you assumed, the rabid man came banging on the door. You backed up quickly, almost stumbling backwards into the bathtub. You’d backed up just quick enough, though, because he swiftly knocked the second door down, the top of it landing just inches from your toes. He was closer this time around and you could get a better look at him. His eyes weren’t really bloodshot more than they were shaded over with a consistent pink hue surrounding the irises. The paper-white color of his skin contrasted with the dark purple circles under his eyes and and his veins, which were more visible. There were small holes in his shirt, like someone had taken scissors or a knife and cut lines, and dirt smudged his clothes and boots.

Those details were neither here nor there, though. They flew through your mind in a split second before you planned an escape. You were small, not tiny, but small enough, and this man seemed larger than life. He stood with his legs apart, ready to attack, and so you thought, I can fit through there. You waited just a moment for him to charge, and when he did, you ran and dove straight under him, sliding across the door and back into the motel room. You started to make a beeline for the exit, but two men were blocking your way. You looked up and saw none other than the strange men who were at the other motel earlier that day.

“Hey, are you-wait, aren’t you that maid from earlier?” one of them asked.

“Housekeeping, and yes. What the hell is wrong with that man?” you said.

“What are the odds, huh? He came after our maid!” he said, looking at the man standing next to him.

“Housekeeping!” you snapped.

“Dean, that’s really not important right now,” the other one said, motioning towards the bathroom, but he was interrupted by grunts and incoherent garbling coming from inside.

The two men raised their guns and you spun around, just as the man came charging out of the room straight towards the three of you. Without thinking, you ran to the bedside table where you kept your gun. It wasn’t anything special, just a pistol that would do the job if self-defense was ever needed. You’d never had to use it before. You knew how to shoot, but you hadn’t practiced in years, since before you left home. Nevertheless, you snatched it out of the drawer, cocked it, and spun around aiming it straight at the man.

This guy seemed to like you best. He ignored the two other men in your room and came running at you instead. You heard one of them, Dean maybe, yelling, trying to get the guy’s attention by insulting him, but it wasn’t working. All of this happened in the blink of an eye and all you knew was that this man wanted to kill you. So, you pulled the trigger. The bullet hit him right where it needed to, square in the chest, and he stopped, eyes glazed over, dropping to his knees and then facedown into the carpet. You still held the gun in the air.

“Nice shot!” Dean said, “You always that good of a shot?”

You heard Dean talking, but you didn’t really register it. You thought of the response in your head, but you couldn't open your mouth. You weren’t that good of a shot. Ever. Not even when you were in practice.

“Ma’am,” the other man said, more softly than Dean had been talking, “You can put the gun down, it’s ok. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You blinked twice, registered what he said, and then slowly lowered the gun. “I didn’t mean to-” you started to say, but when you thought saying it, or any words like it, you just couldn’t.

“Hey, it’s ok. Look, I’m Sam, and his is my brother, Dean. We’ve been tracking this guy and you just helped us get him.”

You looked over at Sam, who had been slowly approaching you, gun tucked back away in his holster and an understanding look on his face replacing the menacing one from before.

“You guys are cops?”

“Something like that,” he said. “We can explain, if you want.”

You stared at the open doorway behind Sam and Dean. “I think I’d like to just go. Can I go?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

Sam looked mildly disappointed and very concerned, but you ignored that and began gathering your things. You didn’t understand what was going on with you or why you felt the need to get out of there so quick. Maybe it was the dead body on your floor or that fact that you had kil-. No, you couldn’t even think that word. You just had to go.

It didn’t take you long to gather your things. You slung your bag over your shoulder and made straight for the door, but not before a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You jumped and spun around, hand ready to smack whoever was touching you, but it was just Sam.

He instantly took his hand back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to give you this.”

He held a card in his hand, an official business card with two names and numbers on it. You stared at it then at him then back at it.

“Just in case you need us, for anything, or have questions,” he said, scratching the back of his neck and standing awkwardly, waiting for you to pick it up. “It’s got our aliases on it, that’s why it doesn’t say Sam and Dean, just so you know.”

You nodded and swiped the card from his hand then shoved it in your pocket. “Thanks,” you mumbled before flying out the door. You barely said bye; you didn’t even acknowledge the other man in the room. You just ran.

Now it was Friday and you were parked on the side of the road somewhere in Kansas, shaking behind the wheel, finally releasing everything you’d been holding in. You ran because you didn’t know what else to do. You had killed a man without even thinking. You didn’t consider that maybe he had a family, a wife or kids, that he had a job and hobbies that he loved, that he had a whole life worth living. You didn’t think about any of that. You just pulled the trigger.

Now, two days later, the reality of that was crashing down. You thought that running and returning to your normal routine would distract you from what you did. You thought you could ignore the fact that you had killed someone, not even daring to think the words kill, dead, or murder until now, but you were wrong. The words hammered in your mind and fell from your lips much quicker than you expected, and now you felt lost and ashamed, unsure of what your next step was. That’s when you remembered the card that Sam had given to you.

In a moment of impulsivity and desperate need, you unzipped the duffel sitting next to you and frantically searched for the jeans you wore that night. You quickly found them and yanked them out, digging your hands in the pockets until you found the one with the card. It was wrinkled a bit, but still very readable, so you grabbed your phone and began dialing the number. It wasn’t until you heard the ringing on the other line, loud and clear in your ear, that you began to panic. The panic was short-lived, though. Sam picked up quickly.

“Hello?” he said, almost like a question, very suspicious and wary, as if strangers hardly ever called his line.

You voice was shaking as you began to talk. “Hi, Sam. It’s uh, me, from the other night at the motel.

“Oh! Right, how are you? Is everything ok?”

You didn’t really know how to answer that. Actually, you weren’t even really sure why you had called. You opened your mouth to speak, but it just hung open, silent, while Sam waited on the other line.

“You still there?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, sorry. I think I need to talk about what happened. I want to know about that guy and why he attacked me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, pausing for a moment. You heard shuffling sounds and muffled talking before he came back on the line clearly. “Where are you at right now?”

“Somewhere in Kansas. I don’t really know. I think I passed a sign that said Lawrence not too long ago.”

“That’s perfect because we’re...maybe an hour away from you. Why don’t you find a place, there’s a nice diner there, and text us. We’ll come to you.”

“Ok, yeah. Thanks.”

You hung up and took in a deep breath of Kansas air. What were the odds that you ended up so close to their office, or was it their home? Either way, you were relieved because of the ease of meeting, but also nervous to talk about what happened. You were scared of some of the answers they would give you. They didn’t seem judgmental over the fact that you shot the man either, but you never know with people. They could just be hiding it well. But either way, you needed answers, so you started your engine again and drove towards Lawrence, finding the diner Sam was probably thinking of with Google Maps.

With jitters and sweaty palms, you seated yourself in a sticky booth far down the length of the diner, ignoring everyone except the young waitress who came to take your drink order. You sent Sam the text message quickly and then placed your phone down on the linoleum table with a soft clink. He must’ve been on his way already because he arrived only twenty minutes after the text, Dean in tow behind him, looking much less interested in this visit than Sam.

You nervously wrung your hands together as they sat down, Sam first then Dean, across from you, bumping your knees. Sam swiftly apologized and although it was awkward, you were almost thankful for the human contact. You didn’t get much of it these days. Sam waited for you to begin with expectant eyes, hands resting peacefully on top of one another, pretending to be waiting for a chance to order a drink. Dean made no effort to hide the fact that he was here for the food alone. He craned his neck around and made eye contact with the girl, who promptly came over and took their orders like they were a couple of sweethearts. You still hadn’t said anything, allowing the formalities of ordering to take the place of beginning this conversation, whatever it was going to be, but Sam was much better at this than you were and he started talking without missing a beat.

“How are you doing? What brings you to Kansas?” he asked, grabbing a laminated menu out of the condiment holder and skimming it over.

You shifted, your legs sticking to the booth despite wearing jeans, and you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, which happened to be the truth. “I travel a lot. I just kind of ended up here.”

Dean’s face lit up with piqued interest. “What kind of car you got?”

He took you off guard with the question, but you answered it anyway, slowly. “A ‘72 Cheyenne. It's parked right out there.” You pointed out the half-opened blinds on the window next to your seat where your truck sat a few spaces down.

“That’s my baby right over there,” Dean said, pointing the opposite way in the lot, “‘67 Impala.”

You nodded, impressed with the car, but still too nervous to engage in such light-hearted conversation. At least Dean was warming up to you, but you had more heavy matters on your heart.

Sam cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, you said you had some questions about what happened. What would you like to know?”

“Right,” you said, finally taking the time to look Sam in the eye. He had tired, wise eyes that had the ability to calm and communicate. You imagined he had seen some things during his time in the field, whatever field it was that dealt with strange, diseased men. He could understand what you were saying, even if it came out in garbled mess. “I guess the biggest question is what was wrong with that guy? Was he sick or something?”

“We actually aren’t entirely sure. We have him at a lab where they are running tests. Obviously, he was sick, but with what exactly, we don’t know.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly and you gulped back a rush of tears, only to have them come back again instantly with greater force. You thought that answer might help reassure you, but it only seemed to be making your guilt worse. “So, he could’ve been, cured?” you choked out.

“No. We don’t think so.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wet with not-yet-fallen tears, waiting more Sam to say something more. He seemed to sense this need in you instantly and a flash of recognition and familiarity flashed across his face.

“It’s an unknown virus strain that seems to be making people aggressive. His body showed signs up rapid deterioration in the heart. He would’ve died soon, maybe in a few hours.”

You thought you’d feel a rush of relief and understanding after hearing those words, as if the sudden guilt that had taken over your consciousness would be wiped away and purged thoroughly. It wasn’t.

“But what if you guys had gotten him and taken him to the lab? He didn’t even have a chance then?”

“Not at all,” Dean spoke up for the first time in awhile. “If you hadn’t shot him, Sam or I were going to do it seconds later.”

“Oh.” You went back to picking at your sleeve and staring at the swirls of marbled brown on the diner table.

“You’ve never shot someone before,” Sam said. It sounded somewhat like a question, but more like a statement that he already had decided on days ago.

You swiftly shook your head, more tears threatening to spill out. It sounded so real when Sam said it like that.

“You did what you had to do. It was self-defense and it was out of your control. He was the victim of something unexpected and he was going to die anyway, whether from the end of one of our guns or from his condition. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sam said.

“Then why do I feel like a murderer?” you whispered through a tight throat.

“Everyone feels that way when it first happens,” Dean said. “Then you find a way to live with it. You rationalize it. Sometimes it’s a harder case than this. You got an easy one.”

“What Dean is trying to say, is that you’ll find a way to process it and work through it. You’re not a murderer. We’ve had to do things like that more times than we can count. You’re an angel compared to us.”

You blushed a little at the comment, the new red in your cheeks hidden by the flush that had been there from crying.

“Trust us, kid. You ain’t bad, not even close,” Dean added.

For the first time in two days you felt the weight lift off your chest and you could breathe. It would still be hard to live with the fact that you had killed someone, but Sam and Dean were right, the circumstances were out of your control.

You swiped your eyes with the sleeves of your shirt and stretched out the tension that had been sitting in your shoulders and legs the entire time. “So, are you guys busy on a case or do you have time to eat, since we’re already here?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dean exclaimed with relief and turned to get the waitresses attention once more.

“So, you said you travel a lot,” Sam said, “Where all have you been?”

You smiled big, a warm grin that was laced with a smirk. Sam and Dean were in for a story. “Well, now I really hope you have some time, because I’ve been almost everywhere.”

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