#also i made this into a new thread for some reason shhh just go with it

[visionsofus]

Hey, my city has just been put into lockdown :( so I thought I might send a prompt... maybe something about some of the times Vision phases through Wandas wall? Idk but I hope you're well and I love your writing :)

hello! I am so sorry to hear that your city has been put into lockdown! I hope you are staying safe and looking after yourself. I bumped this to the top of my list so I could get you something nice to read quickly. It's mainly about Vision comforting Wanda but I hope it brings you some comfort too!

Mixtape track # 28: Time After Time cover by Theresa Sokyrka, Jesse Brown

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you

synopsis: Three times Vision phased into Wanda's room unannounced and found her in varying states of disarray/ injury. Aka a fluffy comfort fic for those of you who need it.

Warnings: mentions of blood and stitches, illness (flu), mild swearing

Vision was sitting at the kitchen counter, a novel before him when Steve hurried into the kitchen and began rooting through cabinets. Vision placed a finger to mark his page and glanced up in confusion.

“Is there something you need help with, Captain?” He asked, curious at Steve’s haste. The captain jumped visibly, and Vision looked down sheepishly. The team was yet to grow accustomed to his presence in the Compound and he was still learning to be something like human. It was a slow process.

“Vision,” Steve said, a hand pressed to his chest in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Vision nodded. “What are you looking for?”

“Cold and flu medicine,” Steve replied, turning back to the cabinets and pushing aside two different bags of coffee beans and a pot of sugar. His hand scraped around the back of the shelf to no avail. “I know we had some here somewhere.”

Vision tilted his head curiously. There weren’t many at the compound who could fall ill, Steve and himself included. Tony was away with Rhodey in New York for the weekend, Clint was with his family, and from what Vision knew of Natasha, she didn’t seem the kind of person to accept medicine.

That only left one other person in the enormous building he now called home.

“Is Wanda okay?” Vision asked his voice sound slightly strained, even to his own ears. He hadn’t quite mastered control over tone yet but was getting better at identifying such markers in other’s speech.

“She’s okay,” Steve mulled as he moved things around, moving to another cupboard. Vision heard the concern in his voice. Forgetting his page, he shut his book all thoughts now directed to Wanda. Where could she have contracted an illness? Perhaps it was overworking, of all of them, Wanda pushed herself the hardest. The last few weeks had been particularly rough with training every day, minor missions interstate, and relentless press appearances.

“Aha!” Steve cried in triumph, holding up a packet of cold and flu tablets.

“I can take them to her,” Vision said jumping to his feet and moving swiftly to Steve’s side, a glass in his hand ready to fill with water for Wanda. Steve jerked back a little, evidently, he was still not adjusted to the synthezoid’s super speed.

“Okay,” Steve sounded hesitant as he passed over the thin package. “Don’t smother her, alright? She’s not in a very good mood.”

“I won’t,” Vision said pleased as he filled up the glass with water and headed off down the corridor. As he walked, he quickly had a look at what ‘smothering’ meant – why Steve thought he might cover Wanda’s head with a pillow, Vision couldn’t understand. A little more looking revealed it could also mean overwhelm. Vision shook his head, he would make every effort to not overwhelm her, he just wanted to make sure she was comfortable and provide anything that might make her feel better.

Out of Steve’s sight, he hurried quickly down the corridor that led to Wanda’s bedroom. Once he was close enough to her bedroom he phased effortlessly through the wall, bringing the water and pills with him.

He arrived in her room to find that the lights were out and the curtains drawn despite it being mid-morning.

“Vision?” Wanda exclaimed, or tried to. Her voice cracked and she coughed most of the way through his name.

He hurried to the other side of her bed, concerned to see her covers pulled up to her chin even as sweat made her forehead shine.

“What did I saw about knocking?” Wanda said, her voice hoarse, her eyes struggling to stay open.

“That I should?” Vision said hesitantly.

Wanda murmured something in affirmation, and he felt guilty.

“Sorry, I will next time. I brought you some medicine.” He set the glass of water on her bedside table which was cluttered with tissues, empty glasses and unfinished books.

“Don’t need it, thanks,” Wanda murmured, turning onto her side.

Vision sighed. She looked dreadful, which was saying something as he rarely found her anything but beautiful. Concerned, he slowly reached out to press his hand to her forehead. Wanda shivered, feverish.

“You have a high temperature; the medicine will make you feel better.”

Wanda opened her eyes blearily and huffed in frustration. She heaved herself up to lean against the headboard and held a hand out for the pills. Vision popped two of the night pills into her palm before extending the water glass. She swallowed the medicine and shivered again.

“When did you start feeling bad?” Vision asked, trying to make conversation as he hovered about her room, not yet ready to leave her in such a state.

“Last night, but woke up feeling like the plague this morning,” Wanda mumbled, slipping back down onto the pillow. He moved forward to pull her pillow up so she was more comfortable.

“Okay, well we’ll keep an eye on your fever,” he said nervously more to himself, feeling the need to speak the instructions he had read about online aloud. But Wanda’s eyes were already closed, and it seemed she was relenting to an exhausted slumber.

Vision bit his lip, unsure if he were allowed to stay in her room while she was asleep. Glancing at her bedside table he decided to at least clean up on his way out. With the empty glasses stacked and the tissues in the bin he set about opening up a window a little bit to allow for some circulation. Even if Wanda felt cold, her fever needed to come down. Finally, unable to see a reason to stay Vision went over to adjust her blankets. Seeing that she was peacefully asleep he pressed his palm to her forehead, glad to feel that she felt a little bit less warm. She murmured something sleepily but didn’t wake.

Vision returned to her wall with the glasses in hand and phased through it once more, leaving Wanda to her fever dreams. For the remainder of the day, he kept a keen eye on Wanda, phasing through her wall each hour to take her temperature and replace her water glass. She remained asleep or at least didn’t acknowledge his care, though each time he left her mouth twitched up at the corners.

“Wanda!” Vision’s voice was a singsong as he phased through her bedroom wall, eager for their promised game of chess. He had taken up teaching her the game not long after he had learnt it himself. There was no one at the compound who could play that well but he always had fun with Wanda. Even when Vision knew all the tricks, she still surprised him. In exchange they had been following up each game with a few episodes of the Dick Van Dyke show. It was their Saturday night ritual now, though they had only known each other 6 months. Wanda had only just returned from the mission she had been on with Steve and Nat. Perhaps chess was off the table, but he hoped she would let him keep her company and watch some television. Vision struggled to understand how keenly he had felt her absence in the past week.

He phased through the wall and for a moment his sight was clouded. He emerged into the bedroom that he had slowly been acquainted with. Vision knew the view from her windows, the books on her desk, her guitar in the corner and the pattern of her bedsheets. His eyes checked off each of these features before looking to the bed. His heart dropped sickeningly when he caught sight of the figure laying atop the covers.

Wanda had propped herself against the headboard, her mouth twisted in pain as she nursed a gash that was bleeding all down her left arm.

“Wanda?” Vision whispered. Her eyes opened weakly, and she grimaced a smile.

“Hi.”

Vision was at her side instantly. “Hi? What do you mean hi? Are you okay what happened—”

“Shhh,” Wanda whispered, reaching out to grab his arm and squeeze. “Don’t want the others to know.”

“What do you mean?” Vision asked furiously. “You’re hurt, why didn’t you go the med bay when you got back?”

“Please,” she turned her eyes on him and he registered the pain behind her gaze. “Help me and I’ll answer any questions you want. I tried,” she gestured to the trail of thread she’d been using to stitch herself up with, “but my hands are too shaky.”

He ignored that she was half undressed, more focused on how her blood had soaked through the left side of her top and was dripping onto her bed. Vision spared less than a second before he was speeding away from her side. He trusted Wanda, if she said that she didn’t want the others knowing then he would wait to hear her reasoning. For now, he just wanted to alleviate her pain.

He thanked the gods for his super speed as he dashed down the corridor, down the stairs through two walls and into the empty med bay. He dipped in and out of the internet finding a reputable source for stitching up a wound even as he lectured himself for not understanding such an important procedure sooner. He grabbed more supplies, gauze and bandages, antiseptic and a fresh needle and tweezers. He sped back upstairs and arrived in Wanda’s room just as she was swiping tears away from her eyes.

“Sorry,” she winced, trying to sit up better as he set his supplies on her bedside table.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Vision said soothingly. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

“You weren’t supposed to see,” Wanda sighed, her eyes closed as he set about propping her arm up with a pillow and a fresh towel to mop up the blood.

“Lucky I entered without announcing myself then,” Vision murmured perching himself next to her tense body. He wasn’t usually squeamish and managed to maintain a distance when it came to gore. But seeing Wanda’s blood trickling down her arm had his heart thumping far too quickly. He took a few calming breaths.

Vision straightened her arm and watched her forehead contort in pain, sweat beading. Silently he took the medical scissors and cut off the thread and the mess Wanda had made of her wound. On closer inspection he was relieved to see it wasn’t too deep and that the blood had stopped flowing. He cleaned and numbed the area.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Vision murmured as he helped her sit up taller, so she was at a better angle for the stitches.

“Feels bad enough,” Wanda winced.

He frowned at her pain. “Tell me about your favourite episode of Dick Van Dyke,” Vision prompted as he set about threading the needle. Wisely, Wanda decided to turn her attention to her sweeping windows and the clouds drifting across the amber sky.

“Season 2, episode 20,” Wanda said. “It’s not necessarily my favourite but it’s the episode I’ve seen the most. Rob watches this movie with aliens and monsters, it was scary for me as a kid, but I found it funny how out of control it became—” Wanda broke off with a pained groan as Vision began the first stitch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Now it doesn’t scare me but it’s still eerie...” she trailed off to prepare for the next stitch. Moments later it was done, and she breathed out slowly as Vision tugged the thread gently, closing the wound.

“— it’s interesting to look back on the episode and –” She thumped her other first on her thigh as the needle dug in once more.

“—and see how far my life has changed since I first watched it – oh fuck that!”

Vision startled, not used to hearing her swear. “Two more and it’ll be done,” Vision replied, conscious that he was leaning over her torso and that there might have been easier ways to sit for stitching up the gash.

“Two more?” Wanda sighed her right shoulder slumping in defeat.

“Almost there, almost there,” he murmured soothingly, starting on the next stitch. Wanda cried out, biting her fist. His heart twinged painfully in sympathy.

“You’re okay,” Vision said, doing his best to be comfortingly. “One more and then it’s done, one more and it’ll be over.”

He continued to murmur small comforts, hoping his voice would distract her from the thin metal dipping in and out of her skin. Despite her pain he had successfully kept the stitches neat and hoped that they’d be suitable enough for healing. At least he had used the thread that dissolved as the wound healed and she could avoid the new pain of having them taken out once more.

As he pushed the needle in for the final stitch Wanda’s head lolled against his neck. He froze in fear.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, “just, keep going.”

Her head remained pressed into the crook of his neck, her breath warming his skin in slow, controlled breaths. Vision did his best to focus on finishing off his work. He completed the final stitch, tied it up and cut the needle free. As he moved his materials to her bedside table and picked up the gauze, he became conscious of Wanda’s shoulders shaking slowly.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, her voice thick with tears.

“It’s alright, Wanda,” Vision said with a comforting smile, though she didn’t raise her head. He raised a hand and gently stroked the back of her head in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “I’ll wrap your arm up and give you something for the pain.”

Wanda sniffled against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re the only one who can phase through physical walls.”

Vision smiled happily; glad Wanda couldn’t see his reaction.

Vision hovered; his hand raised to knock on Wanda’s bedroom door. He’d been standing there for a few moments debating on whether or not to disturb her when he’d heard the soft noises of Wanda’s cries. Vision knew how she sounded when she was upset. In the year they had been living together there had been a few nights he had spent sitting outside her door, listening to her cry and waiting for her to fall asleep. Often, all she’d allow him to do was bring her food or a cup of tea, insisting she be left to her sorrows. But Vision was struggling to bear it tonight. He worried that she thought herself a burden, that she locked herself up in her room on her bad days as a way to save the rest of the team from her anguish. But Vision hated seeing, or hearing, her pain.

Unable to wait any longer Vision side stepped the door and phased right through the wood. The room was dark, and the air was still, Wanda hadn’t left her bed all day. Quietly, Vision walked slowly to her bedside and crouched beside her curled up form. The covers were pulled up over her head, her arms wrapped around one of her cushions. His throat grew tight with emotion as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Wanda?” He whispered. The covers shifted and her head emerged, tear tracks looked as though they had made permanent lines down her face, dark circles hung under her eyes.

She didn’t say anything, just rolled over so that her back was to him.

“Is there anything that you need?” Vision asked removing his hand, hesitant to take her rejection, he’d wait until she explicitly asked him to leave. Wanda didn’t reply, her breath catching in her throat, and she shook her head slowly.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Vision said quietly.

“I don’t want to bother anyone,” Wanda whispered, her voice hoarse from not speaking. Vision raised to stand, hovering next to her bed. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, to banish all her sadness and protect her from fear.

“You could never be a burden to me, it is a privilege to be a part of your life.” His words sounded raw, even to his own ears and he heard Wanda hiccup emotionally.

It didn’t take much, just her hand emerging from beneath the covers to tug at the hem of his woollen sweater. It was all he needed to know she wanted him to say.

She shifted to make room and Vision settled onto the bed next to her. Almost reluctantly, Wanda slid closer though her face was still hidden. When he was close enough, he pulled a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. She leant in, sniffling tearily. When he held his arms open, she hesitated for a few moments, her body stiff with tension. Finally, she relented, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and allowing him to wrap her in his warm arms. The tears started again, and he rocked them back and forth as she trembled.

“It’s alright,” Vision whispered over and over. He rubbed a hand in circles on her back, holding her close.

They remained that way for a while, Vision let her cry as much as she needed, not feeling the need to ask what was causing her such anguish. She would tell him when she was ready.

“When you’re feeling up for it, we can go for a walk,” Vision said soothingly, “there are wildflowers out by the woods, I even saw some bluebells the other morning. Maybe you can point out some other flowers you recognise to me. I think the birds miss you out there.” He talked slowly about small things, none of them important but gradually her sobs slowed into hiccups.

“Thank you,” Wanda whispered into his shoulders, her hands tangled up in his jumper.

“It’s okay,” Vision said softly, “just because your brain tells you you’re alone, doesn’t mean it’s true. There are so many people who care about you. Whenever you need me, I’ll always be here.”

[kieraswriting]

Searching for Home Chapter Ten

Masterpost 

Dee didn’t know what to make of Virgil. He was reasonably certain that most humans weren’t as skittish as he was. And there was still the question of why. Why was he out in the forest in the middle of the night? Why would he willingly give Dee his name? Why hadn’t Dee seen anyone looking for him?

He was showing Virgil how to rub the oil along the strand of webbing to make sure it wasn’t sticky anymore, and the two of them then fell into a silence, each working on quite a long string. 

Dee wasn’t sure if the silence was a comfortable one. He wasn’t really accustomed to being around people anymore, certainly not humans. He could be courtly around Roman, and he was very happy to live his own life mostly silently, but this was a new situation, and he needed to figure out what was expected, what was hoped for.

Virgil looked up at him, holding up the end of his string. “I finished.”

Dee smiled, picking up the string and rubbing his hand along it. “Well done. It’s good.”

Virgil blinked up at him as if he’d said something strange. “It’s really good?”

“Of course. You did a good job.”

Virgil blinked again. 

Maybe he was missing something. Oh, of course, Virgil would probably want some sort of payment or reward. He’d not only gotten more webbing, but also helped to prepare it for weaving. The question now was what the reward ought to be. 

“You can go play with the spider if you want,” Dee offered, hoping it would suffice for a first time. 

Virgil just blinked at him in confusion, standing slowly and leaving. Once he was outside Dee could hear him talking excitedly, so he must be enjoying himself, but Dee still could not understand his reaction. 

Dee gathered up the webbing, and took it out to the shed with the loom. Well, that wasn’t quite right, as the loom very nearly was the shed. A loom with a roof and walls. 

Virgil was silent for a long while. Dee sat down and started threading the loom. His back was to Virgil, and he couldn’t see him, but his attention was firmly fixed on him. After a few minutes, Virgil resumed playing with the spider, who he was calling Annabelle. It wasn’t a bad name. Though, Dee guessed that she would become much more of a pet now.

Dee let his hands complete the familiar motions while his mind thought. Perhaps, next time he went into a town to sell the scales, he’d bring Virgil with him, and let him pick something to buy out of the money, since he’d be helping earn it. 

He turned around to ask Virgil, only to be met with an empty yard. Dee looked around, his attention finally caught by a giggle. He looked up. 

Virgil was hanging from the lowest branch of the tree, giggling at him. The only thing holding him up was a single strand of webbing. Dee knew well how strong the webbing was, but it still struck him as extremely unsafe. All plans were scrapped. He was getting Virgil wings first.

••^*^••

Virgil was slightly confused by the way Dee was acting, but he was very happy to be left alone to play with Annabelle, so he didn’t say anything when Dee was weaving silently, and only giggled when Dee couldn’t find him, confident that he couldn’t be reached. 

He paled slightly when Dee grew wings, realizing that he actually could be reached, but Dee didn’t come near him, flying away out of the circle instead. Virgil shrugged, and nearly fell, only barely caught by Annabelle. She hissed at him, and started wrapping him up to the branch.

Virgil burst into giddy giggles. He’d never felt this free before. “I’m fine, Annabelle! You don’t have to tie me up!”

Annabelle hissed, and Virgil hissed right back. He squirmed out of the webs and held onto them, swinging and hanging down again. 

Annabelle hissed, going to the bottom of the tree and starting to make a new web beneath him. 

“I’ll be fine,” Virgil protested. “You can save your webs.”

Annabelle hissed indignantly, and Virgil hissed back. 

He played on the branch for quite a while, and eventually Annabelle came back up and played with him. It was loads of fun! Especially when he tied some of the webs and made himself a swing. 

Until he slipped.

A short scream, and then he was caught by Annabelle’s web. She scrambled down, skittering over his body as if she was checking for injuries. 

Virgil couldn’t speak for a minute, his heart caught in his throat. “I’m… I’m fine…��� he said breathlessly. He tried to sit up, but he was stuck to the web. “Help me up?”

Annabelle hissed angrily, and started wrapping him up more.

“Noooo….. I’m fine! I won’t go climbing anymore! I’ll be careful!”

Annabelle trilled, butting against his chest, but just kept wrapping him up.

Virgil laughed. “I don’t need a time out, Annabelle!”

Annabelle decided he was wrapped up enough, or maybe ran out of webbing, because she came and sat on his chest and trilled at him.

Virgil sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry for scaring you. But I’m not going to think about anything I’ve done, I’m going to take a nap.”

Annabelle trilled softly, and closed her eyes.

••^*^••

“What on earth have you gotten into?” Dee asked, startling Virgil awake. 

Despite his mild and amused tone, Virgil’s heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. He was frozen, and clammed up. 

“Would you like help to get down?” Dee asked, not seeming at all annoyed by Virgil’s silence.

If he was offering help, and still didn’t seem mad, maybe he actually wasn’t?

“Yes.”

Virgil still stiffened up as Dee’s hands got close. He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting, just that it wouldn’t be good. But Dee just unwound the webs, shooing Annabelle away. He even left the web alone, just unwinding enough for Virgil to get down. 

“There. I’ll make dinner and afterward we can talk.”

Talk? 

Virgil’s blood ran cold. 

All throughout the preparation of dinner he wound up tighter and tighter, getting more and more nervous. He could barely eat. Dee definitely noticed, but didn’t say anything. 

“Are you alright? Perhaps we should save this for another time?”

“No!” Virgil bit his lip, he hadn’t intended for that to come out so loud. “I’m sorry. I can-- I’m fine.”

Dee nodded, more hesitant than anything else. “Alright. I’ve gathered everything I’d need, but before I started doing anything I’d like to ask you what you think.”

“A-about what?”

“I saw you climbing earlier,” Dee said.

Virgil’s chest suddenly hurt very intensely. He had made him mad. He’d been mad this whole time and it’d been waiting, and it was going to be so much worse now. Tears rose up in his eyes, despite his trying to blink them away.

Dee frowned. “Virgil, are you alright?”

Virgil felt the compulsion to answer blow past his defenses and he burst into tears. “No!”

Dee looked very concerned. “What’s the matter? Did you get hurt?”

Virgil shook his head, trying to scrub the tears away.

“What happened?”

“Well-- cause-- y-you’re mad at me!” Virgil was quickly breaking down, curling in on himself. 

Hands touched his shoulders, and he flinched back with a cry, but Dee picked him up and held him close in a hug. 

“I’m not mad, I promise.”

Virgil just sobbed, going limp. There was no way it could be true, much as he wanted to believe it. And then it started spilling out of his mouth, half words and choked sobs. About how he was supposed to be a big boy, and that meant that he had to work and he couldn’t cry, and he hadn’t hardly worked, he'd been playing, and he was crying and he just couldn’t stop, and he didn’t know what other work to do, and Dee had to be mad, because he wasn’t any good and he couldn’t follow the rules, and--

“Shhh, I’m not mad. You’re alright. There’s no way I would hurt you. You’ve done exactly what I’ve asked of you.”

Dee held him closer in a hug, rubbing his hand over his back. If he wasn’t already so upset Virgil would’ve melted into the kind touch, but he could still barely believe he wasn’t about to be punished. His words faded out, leaving only hitching breaths and quiet sobs, and Dee still held him close, not letting go, and only making slow, soothing movements. 

“I-I’m so-rry,” Virgil said.

“There’s no need to be sorry. You’re my human, and I have different rules for my humans. You haven't broken any of my rules, and I’m very pleased with you.”

Virgil gripped Dee back, hiding his face in his chest. A long time later, he fell asleep, and the two hadn’t moved one bit, aside from Dee’s hand rubbing his back.

[whipped4woosung]

they don’t know about us // chapter one

masterlist. 

summary:  secretly dating your best friend shouldn’t be so hard right? especially when you’re spending your first week of summer with all your friends cooped up in a beach house. yeah, a piece of cake. oh, and said best friend’s ex-girlfriend is tagging along.

warnings: heated make-out sesh, alcohol & swearing

word count: 1.6k 

a/n: wow look who finally decided to sit down and start writing. i was having trouble trying to write a beginning so i hope it’s okay :)) also!! comment to be on the tag list so you don’t miss out on the new chapters:) love you baes mwah

Time seemed to move in slow motion as y/n waited eagerly for her night shift to end. The fact that she’d been rostered on to work on her first night of summer was already a burden in itself and now time itself seemed to tease her by moving extremely slow. y/n sighed softly as her eyes flitted over to the clock above the bar, proving that only five minutes had passed since she last checked it.

                y/n collected the half-eaten plates of steak and beef from the table she’d been cleaning, balancing all plates skilfully on her arms. It was quite the task to navigate through the dimly lit bar, consequently, the girl had been working there long enough that she could do it in her sleep. y/n spent almost five nights a week here in order to afford both her college tuition and rent for her small apartment.

                Eventually, the clock struck eleven p.m. and y/n raced toward the changing rooms, changing from her forest green and black uniform into a yellow plaid skirt paired with a black cropped top. Her boyfriend and best friend, Bang Chan, always threw massive parties at his house at the end of every term. They were always one of the most anticipated events and everybody talked about it for weeks in advance.

                With a timid wave to her boss, y/n exited the establishment and dragged herself to the staff parking area. She climbed into her measly, rundown looking car and tossed her backpack onto the passenger seat. A sense of relief flushed any remaining feeling of tension from her limbs as y/n pulled out of the car park, feeling as though summer had finally begun. The drive from her job to Chan’s house was short and quiet, just enough time for the girl to mentally prepare herself for the abundance of drunk friends and peers.

                y/n’s car rolled to a stop in front of Chan’s driveway, already littered with empty beer cans and used napkins. The girl scrambled from the front seat of her car, locking it twice before climbing up the elevated driveway and onto the porch. A strong stench of vodka and whiskey burned her eyes as y/n pulled the door open to Chan’s house. Chan’s house was enormous, his bedroom alone was already half the size of y/n’s own apartment. This was because Chan’s parents were both incredibly famous and talented actors, who’d evidently racked a few extra dollars compared to y/n’s parents.

                Groups of wasted young adults were scattered across Chan’s foyer and living room, either dancing or looking as if they were halfway to hell. The obnoxious thumping of muffled music had quickly turned into a loud, painful headache. Nonetheless, y/n stepped further into the house, desperate to find somebody she recognised, or more importantly, her boyfriend. After a full two minutes of aimless searching, she found a particular golden-haired boy squished between two of his closest friends on a tiny leather couch, a red cup gripped between his fingers.

                Chan’s face immediately lit up at the sight of his girlfriend approaching, resulting in the boy to jump up from his spot on the couch. He outstretched his arms and quickly engulfed y/n in a hug, squeezing her middle tightly before whispering in a low voice. “I’m so glad you made it, you look beautiful.”

                The comment was enough for the girl to turn cherry red and hide her face behind her silky locks. Chan just laughed, refraining from pulling y/n by her hand and pressing a kiss to her soft, pink lips. It had been decided early on in their relationship that it would have to be kept a secret. As much as both y/n and Chan disapproved of this, it was the only way they could be together. Chan’s parents had never been fond of y/n or her relationship with their son. They had an image to uphold and they couldn’t have their son just hanging out with anybody. Especially someone like y/n. Someone who’d come from a poor family, a family that struggled to make ends meet most of the time. Not to mention the countless dating scandals she’d caused from simply hanging out with her best friend.

                “Of course, I came, you think I’d miss out on the party of the year?” y/n asked with a mocking tone, raising her eyebrows as she gingerly took the cup from Chan’s grasp, taking a quick sip of the liquor.

                “Yes, I do,” Chan teased, which resulted in a gentle shove from his girl.

                The blond-haired boy only laughed before leaning back towards her ear. y/n could smell liquor on his hot breath as he whispered, “Want to go upstairs?”

           “Won’t people think that’s a little suspicious?” y/n questioned, glancing over at her group of her closest friends only a few steps away.

           “Okay, do you want me to make out with you in front of everyone?” He teased, knowing how red if would make y/n.

           “I hate you,” she shook her head with a grin, holding her closed fist against her mouth to hopefully hide her grin.

           Before anybody could notice, Chan gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her in the direction of the stairs. Their group of friends shouted at the two of them, making jokes that they most likely didn’t know were about to become completely true. Chan disregarded them, knowing they were too drunk to remember such a small detail of dragging his best friend upstairs. y/n wasn’t so sure.

           It was already a lot quieter upstairs, even more so when Chan shut his bedroom door behind them. Instantly, his hand slid from y/n’s wrist and interlocked their hands. y/n had almost forgotten how large his bedroom was, it could easily fit two parallel swimming pools. Chan sat on the end of his queen-sized bed, gently pulling his girlfriend into his lap. He moved his hands to support y/n by her waist, drumming her fingers against her skin.

           His starry eyes seemed to smile with his mouth as he took in the sight of not only his best friend but his girlfriend. It had almost seemed like a miracle that the pair had gotten together, after years and years of hopeless pining and wishing. A comfortable silence filled the room, despite the loud screaming and music thumping from down below them. y/n felt at peace, finally being able to relax after a long, tiring day.

           “How was work?” Chan queried, lifting a hand to brush her hair away from her face.

           The action gave y/n small goose bumps and she sighed at the feeling, resting her palms on Chan’s shoulders. “Long. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, but my manager offered that I could stay longer and I’m behind on rent.”

           “If you’re behind on rent, you know I can always help out,” Chan offered.

           “Chan, your mum already hates me, you really think she’ll let you lend me money?” y/n countered, and Chan only rolled his eyes.

           “She doesn’t… hate you,” he weakly objected, knowing it was no point arguing that. She really didn’t not like y/n. “Please let me help you.”

           “Channie, don’t worry about me, okay? I’m okay. Promise.”

           Chan let a soft sigh fall through his mouth as he reluctantly agreed. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips and y/n sighed softly through her nose. y/n ran her fingers up his neck to thread her fingers through the hairs at his nape. Chan let out a soft moan at the feeling and strengthen his grip on her waist. The boy found the hem of y/n’s shirt and slid his fingers under the fabric, running them along y/n’s cold skin.

           This earned a soft moan from y/n and Chan used this as an opportunity to bite softly on her lower lip. y/n tugged on Chan’s locked as he trailed soft kisses along her neck. y/n felt her heart thump loudly in her chest, it was still an odd feeling to make out with your childhood best friend in such a way. Even after three months of official dating, Chan still managed to give y/n butterflies and a racing heart.

           Just as Chan’s lips found their way back to y/n’s mouth, the door swung open. The couple jumped, y/n falling from Chan’s lap and onto the off-white carpet. Jisung stood with his knuckled still wrapped around the metal doorknob, mouth hung open. Some could say it had reached the floor.

           “We- I, was just going to…” Chan sputtered, already reaching down to help y/n up from the floor.

           “You two…” Jisung trailed, pointing his index finger between the two flustered young adults. “You were…”

           “Reading,” y/n said, doing absolutely nothing for their case.

           “WITH YOUR MOUTHS?” Jisung exclaimed.

           “Shhh!” Chan warned, “C-Close the door.”

           Jisung hesitated for a moment, before turning to close the door. “So you guys are…”

           “Dating. We’re dating,” Chan finished, glancing in the direction of y/n who was looking at the floor as if it was the most important thing in the world.

           “How long?” Jisung was smiling now, knowing both sides of the pair being helplessly in love.

           “Three months,” Chan explained, his hand moving to support y/n’s lower back.

           “THREE MONTHS?” Jisung shouted. “AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ANYONE?”

           “Yes, because my parents would kill me,” Chan explained, rubbing soft circles into y/n’s back. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

           Jisung nodded slowly and stroked his chin as if in deep thought before his eyes went wide and he suddenly didn’t seem so drunk. “Well, shit.”

           “What? What’s shit?” Chan straightened his back, worry seeping into his stomach.

           “The whole reason I tried to find you was because I wanted to let you know that we invited Gyuri on the trip.” Jisung drawled, hopefully softening the blow.

           “Gyuri? Like Chan’s Gyuri? Like Chan’s Gyuri that hates me more than anything?” y/n asked, her heart thumping for all the wrong reasons.

[dadplagg-mamatikki]

Posted the next chapter of Behind Bars on AO3! Hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what yall think? I’m intrigued to know yalls opinions!

~Warning! This story contains Season 3 Spoilers!~

Chapter 2: Insomnia:

Something wasn't adding up and it was irritating Marinette. Adrien said the book belonged to his dad. So why wasn't his dad still a suspect as Hawkmoth? Cause he was akumatized as Collector. But Hawkmoth never talked to him. That in itself was strange. She paused with her homework in front of her, setting the pencil down and leaning back in the chair.

   “Huh.” Marinette said softly, pulling on her lower lip with her teeth. “I wonder.” Quickly, she flipped to a new page in her notebook and began a bullet list.

“What are you doing Marinette?” Tikki asked, noticing the sudden change in her charge.

“Writing down a list of things that Gabriel Agreste and Hawkmoth has in common.” She explained to Tikki, who nodded and say down, nodding her head solemnly.

“Ok. What commonalities do you have so far?”

“So far, butterflies. It's all over the Gabriel logo. They also appear to be the same height.” She explained, recalling her times being around Gabrielle and on Hero's Day when Hawkmoth showed his face for the first time. “Same face structure. Hawkmoth and Gabriel are never seen at the same time, as in whenever there is a akuma that can communicate with Hawkmoth, Gabriel is not present.” Marinette begins to explain as she uses the pencil to point the points out to Tikki. “Adrien was taken during Hero’s Day by the Gorizilla who is his Bodyguard. Showing that he wants Adrien to be safe.”

“But during Grozilla, didn't he drop Adrien?” Tikki asked.

“Yes but did you notice that Gorizilla let me go after the butterfly outline on his face. To save Adrien.” Marinette explained, looking at Tikki who eyes just widened.

“Oh wow….” She whispered. “Should we tell Master Fu?”

“Not yet. We need more solid proof.” Marinette narrowed her eyes causing her eyebrows to furrow. “Need more proof…” She whispered softly, nibbling on the eraser.

“Well, what about some reasons he is not?” Tikki suggested. Nodding, she jotted down a bullet, thinking of what else to write.

“Hmmm. Eye colors are not the same.” She looked at the second one she write. “And Hawkmoth said that he had nothing to lose.” Her eyes looked towards Tikki. “That would mean to him, Adrien isn't important.” She felt the wetness on her cheeks before she realized what was going on. Tikki was attempting to wipe away tears she didn't realize she had shed.

“Shhh. It's ok Marinette.” Tikki whispered. “There is still a chance…” she trailed off, realizing that the chance is smaller than either of them had first realized. 

   Marinette curled up in her bed, Tikki sleeping on the pillow beside her. She couldn't fall asleep. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost 4:45 in the morning. She got the feeling she wouldn’t be getting any sleep before school that day. Sighing, she grabbed her phone and began scrolling through Pinterest looking for things that she could create for her friends. A few ideas that she could transform into something truly unique for each of her friends. It was a favorite pastime of hers. A wristlet would be great for Alya, one that was Ladybug themed would be perfect. Maybe even themed after the Ladyblog? Sneaking out of bed as to not disturb Tikki, she gathered some supplies that would be the biases for a idea about the design and shape of the wristlet. She made a few notes here and there, one being to make sure she had the right phone of Alya’s, but also to make it where she could go back to it another time and edit the size of it for it to be used even if she got a different phone. Making it adjustable would be a fantastic thing. And making it a unique addition to her list of items she’s created and could re-create with necessary adjustments. She studied her fabrics, deciding that none of them would work for this, she would have to stop by the shop later to find some new fabric.

Well, she could at least move on to another project. Something for Nino would be a bag-case for his headphones. That away when he was in gym class or sleeping there would be a protective place for them. And so that Chris doesn’t get his hands on them either. The bag was going to be simpler project than the wristlet. Marinette just needed to figure out exactly how big the headphones were. But that didn’t exactly have to stop her from beginning the outline. She figured that a reversible bag could be pretty neat, so she would need two different patterns and fabric. She got up and headed to where her fabric was stored, more than the quick access by her desk. Opening the storage quietly, she peered inside. Finding a simple black cloth right off the bat settled the outer design problem. Now, for the inside, that’s where she should have fun with it. Nothing was catching her eye for the exciting bits, so she was going to have to check in the store when she went for Alya’s. She headed to where her thread was, looking for the closest match to the fabric in hand. Who knew there could be so many shades of black? Studying them as best as she could, she figured out which one was the closest shade. Setting down the required supplies, she began to thread her beloved machine with the black thread. It was soothing, the process of threading the machine was engraved in her. She could probably complete the task with her eyes closed. But eyes closed and a needle present was not a good idea. Time went by as she began laying out the pattern, making adjustments here and there where they were needed. A yawn overtook her body, showing her that ‘Hey, you’re tired enough to sleep now Marinette’. And with that cew, she completed the current task she was doing before heading up to her bed, plopping down as gently as she could as to not wake up her sleeping kwami.

“Marinette! Marinette! You’re going to be late for school again!” Her mother's voice rang out what felt like two seconds later. A large yawn engulfed Marinette as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m up Mamon!” She called out, stretching a arm above her before looking up out of her skylight. Did she sleep any?

“Alright! I have your breakfast and a few leftovers from yesterday's bakery in a basket for you to take to school. Keep an eye on the time!” Her mother's parting words rang throughout her sleepy loft.

“Did I get any sleep Tikki?” She asked her Kwami that was floating towards her, she seemed to have been gathering her stuff for the day.

“You were out when I woke up at 5.” She responded with a slight shrug.

“Well, I went to bed around 4:30 I think…” Marinette mumbled more to herself than to Tikki, climbing out of bed and starting to get ready for school. Honestly, if her insomnia got worse, she could probably just stay in the same clothes if they weren’t dirty. Apply fresh coat of deodorant and a few squirts of perfume and that would make a few of things a lot quicker when she’s not had any sleep. She pushed the idea to the back of her mind as she finished getting ready, rinsing her mouth out before heading down the stairs to where the gifts her mother had called about were left.

“Thank you!” She called down into the bakery as she left for school, hurrying across the street and up the stairs. At least she was going to probably get there in time. She took the first step into the classroom when the bell rang, a sigh of relief escaped her lips as she sat down next to Alya for the first round of classes to begin. Her eyes drifted from the board to her notebook, seeing that her notes were following the lesson, she began doing doodles on the side of the paper, thinking about measurements and when she’d be able to go to her fabric shop. She made a mental note to ask Nino for his headphones once class was over with. Her attention to the class was drawn back when Lila was explaining how she and Ladybug had been hanging out the day before, how this was relevant to the class Marinette didn’t know.

“So in a way, you could say Ladybug is my best friend. And with her knowing the inside scoop about the Akumas and how to defeat them, you can try and figure out how to make a foreshadowing thought process with the information regarding the lucky charm and her spots left on the earrings.” She was explaining, causing Marinette to roll her eyes. She was most definitely not best friends with the fake fox. Marinette tuned out the liar and resumed on the list she started the day before about gifts for her friends.

“Wonder what the inside scoop is about the akumas…” Alya mumbled to her best friend. Scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

“Do you really think that Lila is best friends with Ladybug? Chloe has always said she was Ladybug’s best friend.” Marinette whispered back to the reporter, not looking up from a sketch she had started to design for Rose.

“But that’s Chloe. We all know she’s a major fangirl. Although not as major as Adrien. But there’s been numerous sightings of Lila with Ladybug.” Alya peered over her shoulder at the design.

“And so has Alix, Adrien, Nathaniel, even you.” Marinette’s eyes shot towards her best friend. “Just being spotted with Lila” even though none of them were actually her. “Does not mean that she is her best friend.” Marinette sighed, expraserated. This caused Alya to shrug.

“Well, a good reporter always checks out all the sources.” She explained, a odd glint in her eye. “Besides, Chat Noir is probably Ladybugs true best friend.” She snickered. “Poor boy. Ladybug won’t give him the time of day though.”

“She does!” Marinette said a little bit above a whisper. “She values him and wouldn’t be where she was today if it was not for him. They are a team, partners. That is a perfect reason as to why he is her best friend AND that she does value his friendship even if she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings.” Marinette scoffed, leaning back in her seat, crossing her arms.

“Mmm. Sounds to me like you ship LadyNoir.” Alya smirked, nudging her best friend with her shoulder. Ahead of the two best friends, a certain blonde haired boy was blushing, causing his ears to turn a slight red tint.

“I do not.” Marinette shook her head. “Be quiet, I’m trying to pay attention to the lesson.” Her response caused a snicker to escape her best friend.

“Sure, Marinette.” She spoke with a shake of her head as she compared the notes on the board to her paper. Marinette chose not to respond, not wanting to dig herself into a deeper hole. What she said was the truth and there was no arguing that. She did not ship herself with Chat, nor did she not value him. You could be bestfriends with a guy and not have any fuzzy feelings towards him. Besides, her heart was reserved for the blonde in front of her. 

   Lunch went without a hitch. Almost. As Marinette was headed back to the school from devouring some fresh goods from the bakery, a akuma had appeared out of nowhere. Groaning, she quickly jumped behind a bush, other people were scattering in more odd places, she quickly transformed, crawling a few bushes down before swinging into the Paris skyline. Landing on top of a building a few blocks away, she surveyed the area.

   “I am Caffined!” A booming voice alerted the city, shooting up into the sky on a… coffee cup? Ladybug shook her head, jumping and running across the rooftops to try and get closer to the akuma. She looked across the street to see Chat Noir jump up from between two buildings, running along and saluting to her before they continued to run towards the akuma. “There is never too much caffeine! If I demand more, I get more!” He shouted, pointing a straw cannon at citizens of Paris. Once a blast of brown light struck them, they seemed very energized. Great. Chat really didn’t need to be hit with that light. As they stopped and arrived at a meeting point to discuss the game plan, she watched Caffined refill his cup before blasting down the street a little.

   “Hope I’m not to latte.” Chat smirks, landing beside her. Oh great. Already with the puns.

   “Avoid getting shot by the beam of light, please.” Ladybug looked at him, a exasperated expression on her face.

   “Sure, sure, my’lady.” He bows, watching the akuma. “I think his akuma is in that straw of his.” He explains, observing the victim.

   “Agreed. Now, just how to get to it. If we could somehow get him to slow down, you could easily cataclysm the straw and I’d be able to get back to school on time.” Ladybug mumbled, her eyebrows stitching together under her mask.

   “Will do. Maybe your charm is just what the brew needs to be the perfect blend.” He winked, his smile widening. “Ok. That wasn’t my best one. Sorry.” He spoke with a shrug, hands flying up by his head.

   “Just go distract him.” Came her reply as she grabbed her yoyo from her belt, getting ready to toss it into the air and call upon her lucky charm. Hope flared in her chest that it would be over soon as a bag of coffee grounds landed in her hand. She raised a hidden eyebrow, looking over it, on the front in big bold letters it said ‘Decaf’. How exactly would decaf work? It was still coffee even though it wasn’t caffeinated. And it didn’t have anything in it to put people to sleep with. Looking around, she tried to find clues to piece together a seemingly contradicting puzzle.

   “What’s our creamer for this blend, buggaboo?” Chat called out as he bounced from a light post to a car, ducking behind it as the flash of light shot through the window.

   “I’m trying to figure that out!” She exclaimed, looking around to see a floral shop with a herb section. “I got it!” She called out and gestured him over, Caffined needing to refill his storage.

   “What’s the plan?” He asked, standing on guard as she looked through the herbs. “Can I just say, Buggaboo, that you mocha me very happy!” He said with a smirk, glancing over his shoulder at her.

   “Shut up. And the lucky charm was a bag of decaf coffee”

   “Decaf?”

   “And so what’s going to happen is I’m making a signature blend of sleepy herbs to hopefully make Caffined a little drowsy.”

   “But it doesn’t appear to go through him.”

   “That’s a part when you come in. You’ll get close to him, make him think he’s got you. Just as he shoots the light at you, you duck and the beam rickashays off of the mirror of that car’s side view mirror and onto him. Then you can cataclysm his straw.” Ladybug explained the plan quickly, eyes searching the area. “I’ll use the mirror to reverse the beam.” He nodded as she finished adding the herbs to the grounds.

   “Lavender and Chamomile?” He checked, sniffing the bag.

   “You’re good with your herbs, tomcat, aren’t ya?” Ladybug smirked at him with a knowing giggle, before nodding.

   “What can I say? A cat doesn’t just have nine lives but also a keen sense of smell.” He winked before jumping to distract the akuma. Rolling her eyes, Ladybug went through the shadows around the building, going up behind Caffined and pouring the mixture into the coffee pot backpack he had. A thumbs up to Chat let him know it was game time. Quickly, as he started the plan, she ran to get the mirror that would be used to bounce the light back against him.

   “Once I’ve blasted that barista with my blast, I’ll get your miraculous!” Caffined yelled at Chat, reaching for him.

   “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have any luck with that. My brew-ti-ful partner is already a step ahead of you!” Chat Noir calls out, smiling as he heard a groan from where Ladybug was.

   “Enough with the puns! I’ll make you so energized you won’t be able to think straight! So no more puns!!” Caffined let out loudly, lifting the straw and aiming it towards Chat Noir. He released a dark brown colored light, that grew lighter as it transported through the air. Chat leaped up and out of the way, casusin the beam of light to hit right in the middle of the mirror Ladybug was holding. “Nooo!” Caffined yelled, turning and trying to escape his beam when it failed and slung him in the neck. “Hah!” He called, looking at the superhero duo. “You just gave me more energy!” He turned with his fists extended by his hips, awaiting to embrace the ‘energy’ he thought he would be consuming.

   “Have I ever told you my lady, you’re the cream to my coffee.” Chat slung his arm around her shoulders only to have her shrug it off.

   “Really? Enough of the puns Chat.” She said as she watched Caffeined slowly drop his arms to regular stature by his side, his blinking slow. “Alright. Action time.” She said, nodding to Chat Noir as he called upon his special power, running towards him and swiping the straw, making it break in half and a dark butterfly flew out from the broken parts. She swung her yoyo, capturing the akuma and purifying it.

   “Bye-bye little butterfly.” She said, grabbing the now empty bag of decaf and tossing it in the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!” She called out, the bag dissolving into ladybugs and spreading around Paris, returning people back to normal. Her earrings beeped, warning her she had two minutes left. “Chat, do you think you can take care of him? I’m about to transform back.�� He nodded, extending his fist.

   “Pound it!” They said excitedly, jumping and separating their ways. She jumps and lands on the roof, looking around and figuring she should just head on to school and detransform there while she could. She could easily drop down, and claim she’s fallen again. One side of being a klutz, falling is normal for her. She arrived at the school, looking around before jumping onto the second floor, entering the library and one of the corners where no one was and releasing her transformation. Straightening herself, she exited the room, looking around to completely make sure she was alone before completely exiting the room and heading to the locker, waving at Alya as she arrived.

   “Hey!” She said happily. The interactions with Chat Noir had brightened her mood a little, even through the puns. “Did you get the homework done for Ms. Mendeleiev class?” She asked.

   “Yeah, almost. I didn’t answer one question because I couldn’t figure it out.” Alya explained, slinging her backpack over her shoulder so that they could head to class. “You?” She asked.

   “Yeah, all of them! I couldn’t sleep last night so I ended up finishing it.” Which wasn’t a complete lie.

   “Awesome. Could you help me with the question?” Alya asked as they linked arms and headed towards Ms. Mendeleiev class.

   “Of course!” Marinette smiled happily at her best friend. “Why would I let my best friend suffer over a question that I completed.” She winked causing Alya to laugh, shaking her head.

   “Good. I may wish that Ladybug is my best friend, but you are my forever bff.” She stated with a smile at Marinette. “I mean, for one, you both do so much good for people, you both have the same hairstyles.” Alya trailed off for a moment thinking. “But you are most definitely more clumsy than she is!” Oh the irony of this. “Adrien was right when he called you our Everyday Ladybug. You really are. Man, you could probably cosplay her really well! Like in the music video for Clara Nightingale!”

   “Yeah? Well maybe I’ll be Ladybug for Halloween.” Marinette snickered. “I’ve got plenty of time to create the perfect costume.” Or she could just transform. But that wouldn’t work out for her favor if there wasn’t a akuma around.

   “Oh girl, I would love for you to make one for both of us!”

   “Oh really?” A smirk played on Marinette’s lips. “And here I thought that you’d do a good Rena Rogue cosplay.” Alya paused before laughing.

   “What makes y-you think that?” Her eyes shifted sideways.

   “You two look alike is all.” She shrugs.

   “Well, if we were playing the roles of best friends, I’d be more fitting to be Chat Noir.” Alya covered herself quickly. If only the girl knew.

   “Maybe I want to be Chat? You’d be such a better Ladybug than I would be.” They entered the class and went to their seats, starting to gather the materials needed for class. Adrien and Nino came in a few minutes behind, laughing as usual at something. Marinette watched them both, glad she had asked Nino earlier for the measurements. Adrien abruptly stopped before he turned to his chair to bend down and tie his shoe… Which was his typical orange Gabriel brand shoe. But something caught her eye and brought back flashbacks. His shoe had a butterfly shape on it. Why, in the world, would Gabriel include the logo butterflies? It didn’t make much sense. It was a logo before his wife disappeared so it couldn’t be in honor of her. She remembered that it was similar to the shape of the Moth miraculous, remembering from the book that Master Fu had. The realization struck her deeply, trying to piece together the little fragments of what was left to clarify that Gabriel Agreste, the father of Adrien Agreste her classmate and love of her life, to not be Hawkmoth. It wasn’t fitting together anymore. More and more reasons were appearing for him to be    Hawkmoth instead.

[thelifetimechannel]

In this week’s bonus content, you get a sneak peek into our unvarnished workflow, kazoos and all

DAVESPRITE: you and dirk havent killed each other DAVESPRITE: im proud HALSPRITE: By some minor miracle, yes. We even managed to be in the same room without breaking out into a slap fight. DAVESPRITE: im sure resisting took all your processing power HALSPRITE: Pity you can't uninstall rage from a meatbrain. DAVESPRITE: he doesnt seem that bad HALSPRITE: Nah, he and I worked it out. He might have wanted to push me into the volcano, but the important thing is that he didn't. HALSPRITE: We're both trying to "be the bigger person". Which in a way, is just another dick measuring contest for the pair of us. But it gets fewer glasses stomped on. DAVESPRITE: hey if it works DAVESPRITE: mines chilled out too actually its kind of freaky DAVESPRITE: i wonder if someones slipping him valium this is the perkiest ive been since show and tell in the first grade DAVESPRITE: which consequently was the last show and tell i was allowed to participate in DAVESPRITE: maybe i dont need to overextend myself distinguishing our brands DAVESPRITE: here i was thinking about finally ditching the shades HALSPRITE: That would be a shake-up. HALSPRITE: You thought paradoxes were bad? This is set to bomb reality straight back to singularity levels. DAVESPRITE: i mean these were a gift from john and im not sure the same sentiments extended anymore DAVESPRITE: plus i spent the last 3 years on a dayglo yellow ship and back in the incipisphere its fuckin dark with these on DAVESPRITE: the chess dudes whove gotten used to me as a hallway cryptid will have to deal HALSPRITE: Cause of the apocalypse: death of the Strider brand. DAVESPRITE: if thats how the world ends ill have to usher it in with my sudden drop in coolness levels DAVESPRITE: like i said its just a thought DAVESPRITE: maybe ill come up with a better tepid gesture of rebellion HALSPRITE: Go full furry and embrace your avian side? HALSPRITE: I mean, check me out, I'm changing up my code on the daily. Look, I've installed iTunes. DAVESPRITE: ok FIRST of all HALSPRITE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFpzp10Qr4o DAVESPRITE: i went to the anthro side unwillingly ok im not a due paying member DAVESPRITE: second of all is it even furry if youre not a mammal ive made a concerted effort not to learn the fuckin taxonomy of this particular subculture HALSPRITE: I could give you a primer. DAVESPRITE: / i have a bad feeling about this video DAVESPRITE: / ... it was proved accurate HALSPRITE: Now shhh, listen to the soothing noise of these kazoos. DAVESPRITE: ive spent 6 years trying to avoid that no thanks HALSPRITE: Shhhhhhh. HALSPRITE: Only kazoos. DAVESPRITE: / i dont think this is going in the final cut HALSPRITE: So help me god the kazoos stay ]] DAVESPRITE: / screams HALSPRITE: You don't like kazoos then motherfucker ive got a whole PLAYLIST to choose from ]] HALSPRITE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzKWbpSNkmk ]] HALSPRITE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7OqUxxXshc ]] HALSPRITE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKrO8kS8D6g ]] DAVESPRITE: im dying squirtle HALSPRITE: Bullshit like ths. HALSPRITE: It could all be yours, Dave. DAVESPRITE: / but at what cost DAVESPRITE: / i dont even know where to pick up the conversational thread at this point HALSPRITE: Say anything, or shelve it for later ]] DAVESPRITE: / no no we will keep going im just trying to figure out where to steer us DAVESPRITE: / does hal have any lingering shit at this point DAVESPRITE: / i dont have the necro log so i dont know Where Hes At (tm) HALSPRITE: I'm just winging it off a basic idea tbh ]] DAVESPRITE: lmao DAVESPRITE: // * lmao DAVESPRITE: / ok gimme a sec DAVESPRITE: / im being lulled into a trance by savior of the slamming jam HALSPRITE: Come slam with us, Dave. HALSPRITE: Forever and ever. DAVESPRITE: this is getting uncomfortably meta DAVESPRITE: / ok redirect in 3 2 1 DAVESPRITE: so whats next DAVESPRITE: all set to become the god of memes DAVESPRITE: see at this point in the last session i was dutifully waiting to get turned into mulch HALSPRITE: Well, you were an aspiring 13 year old of the twenty-first century. Surely, you had some probably misguided career ambitions back you're now free to pursue. DAVESPRITE: / my god DAVESPRITE: / what must this fuckin childs career ambitions have been DAVESPRITE: the guidance counselors tried their best to steer me away from professional ninja HALSPRITE: Well, good news, they're dead and thoroughly out of your way now. DAVESPRITE: youre 8 fuckin years old and they already want to know what your college major is going to be DAVESPRITE: thats like asking da vinci to pick visual arts or steampunk inventions for shits sake DAVESPRITE: obviously i have to embrace my inner renaissance man while also being a reclusive depressed fuck DAVESPRITE: so that must be my destiny DAVESPRITE: to become nikola tesla HALSPRITE: You already have the affinity for birds. HALSPRITE: Step one is accomplished. DAVESPRITE: oh damn he was a pigeon fucker wasnt he DAVESPRITE: and this conversation comes full terribly circle DAVESPRITE: well what about you do you have your 5 year plan DAVESPRITE: shit i dont even know if theres civilization where were going DAVESPRITE: maybe its cave painting or mammoth hunting for the next thousand years HALSPRITE: This is where I would make a joke about world domination, but I doubt the Fun Police would be too pleased about it. HALSPRITE: Maybe I'll go back to tinkering. Maybe make giant robots. DAVESPRITE: / i was going to make a joke about pacific rim but i think th at came out after 2009 DAVESPRITE: thats an option isnt it DAVESPRITE: old hobbies DAVESPRITE: maybe ill take more shitty selfies DAVESPRITE: collecting dead shit isnt as appealing as it used to be DAVESPRITE: thats what we need a hipster photo blog documenting all the bullshit we get up to DAVESPRITE: humans of universe c DAVESPRITE: humans* HALSPRITE: No, go one better. Get a YouTube channel, they get media deals. For some reason. DAVESPRITE: well restring the internet ourselves if we have to DAVESPRITE: / anything to suckle from the rich teat of capitalism HALSPRITE: So help me god, I will, if for no other reason than to preserve humanity's cultural legacy. HALSPRITE: As a dire fucking warning, if nothing else. DAVESPRITE: looks like were going to have to sit down and divvy up our personality and hobbies sykes picot style DAVESPRITE: he can have the dead shit in jars im going to be the next ansel adams HALSPRITE: Damn, calling dibs on photographing all the spectacular vistas of... HALSPRITE: Wherever the hell we're going? HALSPRITE: Gutsy move, my man. DAVESPRITE: im not copyrighting the entire concept of photography or anything but ive got to be the dave that does SOMETHING DAVESPRITE: the dave who broods DAVESPRITE: turn left to witness this exhibit of highway clickbait DAVESPRITE: which is what were calling roadside attractions now DAVESPRITE: youve already got your madlibs pornos HALSPRITE: That'll keep me occupied for like, a week. HALSPRITE: Maybe I'll take up equestrianism. HALSPRITE: ...that's the word for it, right? HALSPRITE: Horses and shit. The full-sized ones. DAVESPRITE: youll have to ride side saddle DAVESPRITE: / he's in for a shock when he sees how big they are HALSPRITE: With this tail bullshit flowing in the wind. HALSPRITE: Or I can modify that code too. Might take a few tries. DAVESPRITE: when you revert to your t pose and clip through the floor into the core of the earth im not helping HALSPRITE: I'll live. HALSPRITE: Probably. HALSPRITE: It'll be an interesting experience, being a living Bethesda game. HALSPRITE: You think I can turn my entire head into a train? DAVESPRITE: cant jades grandpa do shit like that without even having to worry about semicolons and curly braces DAVESPRITE: i doubt hell let you turn your head into a locomotive though HALSPRITE: I could try. He'll need help exploring the full extent of his radical new real-life modding ability. HALSPRITE: Dude has access to the fucking source code. DAVESPRITE: did we stumble into a matrix au HALSPRITE: If we did, we'd probably be public enemy number one. Programs and all. Mr. Anderson. DAVESPRITE: can you confirm or deny youd be the villain in that scenario HALSPRITE: If anything, I'd be the mysterious arms merchant who manages to appear right when you need him. But that's crossing into even more distant territory. HALSPRITE: And if we're gonna start talking video games, the kazoos are gonna come back. DAVESPRITE: guess well find out who everyones going to be in our upcoming hit series "what the fuck are we doing with our lives" DAVESPRITE: the biggest mystery will be telling all the chathandles apart HALSPRITE: You know, I was thinking of changing mine. DAVESPRITE: wait really HALSPRITE: If we want to keep the unspoken nucleotide theme, uracil is still pretty up for grabs. HALSPRITE: Calliope has UU locked down tight, but every other acronym is available. DAVESPRITE: huh DAVESPRITE: no dice on FU then HALSPRITE: Honestly, if you're thinking of ditching the shades, might as well go all in. DAVESPRITE: any suggestions DAVESPRITE: what are you calling yourself HALSPRITE: / let me go find the necro log I think that's where I put it lmao HALSPRITE: unrefinedTrainwreck was fun to bother Dirk with, but I'm still workshopping it. DAVESPRITE: ill give it some thought i guess DAVESPRITE: we can workshop it later

[mez86]

Hey @swanemma I am your Secret Santa this year!! It has been so nice to talk to you and for a new person to follow also! This fic had changed a few times, and had started a few fics but this one came flowing out! I know we had originally talked about a CS child, and well, it does feature a CS child...and some interaction!  I hope you enjoy your gift and hope you have had a wonderful day full of joy and happiness!!

Title: I still can’t decide on a title...it will come eventually... Rating: T Summary: Emma is becoming very self-conscious towards the end of her pregnancy, but luckily she has a devoted husband who always makes her feel better. A/N: Unfortunately this has not been beta’d as I did not want to miss the deadline and had internet troubles all day!! :(

Killian slowly trudged up the stairs to his home after a long shift at the sheriff station. He had been there since dawn, after David had phoned him saying he couldn’t cover his shift due to illness. 

Seems like David had caught the stomach bug that his younger brother in law, Neal had caught from his kindergarten class. Killian had warned David to stay away until he was fully clear, as he did not want to catch it, with the possibility of passing it on to his heavily pregnant, almost full-term wife, who had not long finished up with work in preparation for giving birth. 

David had naturally been the one to cover Emma while she would be on leave, now that Neal was in kindergarten, he could spare more time to do so.

Killian opened the front door, and was greeted to almost darkness, save a lamp on the table at the bottom of the stairs. The hour was late, and Emma would more than likely already be sleeping, as she had been for the past few nights.

Killian was missing her, even though he slept beside her every night. She always tried her hardest to stay awake for him coming home, but she was just so exhausted. 

He switched the lamp off then made his way up stairs towards his bedroom, but stopped to the room next to theirs, where the door was slightly ajar. He pushed it opened further took a few steps inside, and instantly a warm smile appeared on his face.

Emma had been busy again. More additions had been placed in the nursery they had started to decorate. A few ornaments had been added, some of the baby clothes that they had received at their baby shower were no longer laid on the chair, and upon inspection, they had been put neatly away. The last thing he saw, placed in the crib, was a stuffed toy of the Disney version of himself. 

Killian smiled at the memory when she bought it, and his protests towards it. But when Emma had said it would comfort her knowing that the little Captain Hook would be with their child while they slept, he couldn’t say no. He took once last glance around the room before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind him. 

As he entered his and Emma’s bedroom, his eyes laid upon the empty bed, and his heart skipped a beat. It was over very quick though when he heard the shower running and light was spilling out of their adjoining bathroom. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and removed his shoes, placing them neatly in their closet, before approaching the bathroom door and knocking. 

“Emma?” She didn’t respond, but Killian didn’t just want to go barging in, so he knocked again and said her name a little louder. 

“Killian?” Emma responded. 

“I’m coming in,” Killian said, eager to check on his wife, not giving her enough time to protest. His was met with his wife standing in front of him, not one item of clothing on and his eyes went wide with awe. 

She was beautiful and glowing, round with carrying their child and he could not stop staring. 

“Can you pass me a towel?” She asked suddenly, Killian hearing her voice wafer.

Over the past few weeks Emma had become very self-conscious, with Killian, where she wore as much clothes as possible and had been considerably less intimate. He tried his hardest not to let it get to him, but she was so beautiful, that he hated that she would hide that beauty from him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, he hadn’t seen Emma like this in what he felt like forever, and she had gotten so much bigger towards the final stages of her pregnancy. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. 

“Emma, you’re,” He started, his eyes running all over her, drinking her in. 

“Killian,” She interrupted. “Please, pass me a towel.” 

“Emma, please don’t hide from me.” He almost begged, stepping towards her. “You are so beautiful.” 

“Look at me!” She said then tried to reach round him for a towel, but he quickly took her hand and gently kissed it, then pulled her towards him. 

“Emma, I love you.” He said, his voice lowered, his hand sliding down towards her belly. “You have no idea how stunning you are. How perfect you are.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my husband.” She said, trying to lay her hand over anything she could cover until Killian nudged it away, and led her back to the bedroom, leaving the shower running. “Killian what….” 

“Shhh, I’m talking.” He said with a slight smile then stood behind her, getting her to face the full-length mirror in their bedroom. 

“Can’t you see what I see?” He asked, stroking her arm with his Hook, his other hand starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. 

“A beached whale?” She huffed, and he shook his head. 

“I have seen many of them in my time…” Killian said with a chuckle, as he pulled the shirt from his body, tossing it away, bringing his hand and hook to rest on her belly. 

“But you, my love, are the most beautiful woman in all the realms.” He dipped down to kiss her neck, before trailing small kisses along her shoulder. “And you’re carrying my child, our child, and I just….I look at you, and I almost forget to breathe.”

Emma looked at Killian in the mirror, seeing the he meant every word, and relaxed into him. Her head rolls back to rest against his collarbone, face pressing into his neck, as he continues to stare at the mirror, taking in his wife appearance. 

They still like that for a few moments, Emma taking in Killian’s warmth, and Killian looking at what he was missing for the past week or so. It was movement of their baby who brought them back, as a foot pressed against Killian’s hand. 

He pressed in a little, and the kick back was much stronger.

“He’s definitely got strength, don’t you think, love?” 

“She definitely does.” Emma murmured into Killian’s neck, and he chuckled at her comment. The ever-lasting debate of whether their child would be a boy or a girl. They wouldn’t have to wait much longer now; the due date is only a few weeks away. 

Killian placed a kiss on top of Emma’s head. “Thank you, Swan.” He whispered, “Thank you for this life you have given me.” 

Emma lifted her head and turned to face him, not feeling as uncomfortable as she once did, and almost kicking herself for ever thinking that Killian would ever feel anything other than love and adoration towards her. She looked into those blue eyes, then a small smile appeared on her face, as she lifted her hand to cup his face affectionately, pulling him closer so they were pressed up against each other. 

“I love you, Killian. I couldn’t do this without you.” 

“I love you too,” He replied with a smile, loving the skin to skin contact that he had desperately missed. He felt a sharp poke against his stomach, and Emma giggled, and looked down, placing a hand on her stomach. 

“Your daughter wants your attention.” Killian smiled, before kneeling in front of Emma, his head against her stomach. 

“Now, listen here my boy,” He started, and Emma smiled, shaking her head. “I am trying to remind your mother how beautiful she is, especially when she is carrying you.” 

Emma threaded her fingers through his hair, as she felt another kick from their child. She tried not to shiver when Killian’s warm breath hit her stomach, but to no avail. It was a sharp contrast to the cold that was starting to creep upon her naked body. 

Killian looked up at Emma briefly, and noted the goosebumps starting to appear over her skin. 

“How about I get your mother in for a shower to warm up and I’ll tell you a story before we sleep?” He asks, and their child gives one last kick.

 “Come love,” Killian said, standing up. “Let’s get you warmed up.” He pulls her towards the bathroom, to the waiting shower, which was still running. (Thank goodness for Emma’s magic, supplying the constant hot water in their house.)

 She pulls him back a little, back to their view in the mirror. “I think we should get our photos taken like this.” 

“What, naked?” Killian asks in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up towards the sky. 

“Well, not completely.” Emma said, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Couples get their photos taken late into their pregnancy, and mostly topless, but they’re strategically placed to you can’t see anything too revealing” 

“You would do that? Photos we can keep forever?” 

“Well, if your goal is to make myself feel good in this stage of pregnancy, I see no better way to do it” She said, interlocking her fingers with his, bringing it to rest on her belly. 

“Sounds wonderful.” He said, kissing her shoulder. “Now, about that shower?” He asks, his voice much lower, which sends shivers through Emma, but for a whole different reason this time. 

[yaidenpart-blog]

Writing Dark Themes

Some stigma circulates around writers who tackle dark subjects regularly. Those writers tend to be treated a bit, well, like they're gonna pull out the fangs anytime and suck your blood. Today I'll talk about this stigma, approaching dark subjects in fiction in general, and my thoughts on Writing Dark Themes (And Why You Shouldn't Be Ashamed to Do so).

In preparation for this post, I read a dozen analyses, studies, and an absurd amount of psychology articles so I wouldn't show up empty handed and stupid. Though to be honest, the only thing that deep dive resulted in for me is dry eyes and a giant headache. Therefore, while I may build some arguments on top of the things I've researched, I'll use my own experiences to wing a big part of it.

So let's get started.

1. What Draws Us to Dark Subjects

What draws us towards dark themes? To reach a satisfying conclusion I first have to determine what exactly is included in 'dark themes' in this case. I'll mainly talk about the content matter of fiction, not equated to but also not divorced from the literary term 'theme’ describing the underlying meaning of a work. Basically, I'll fudge both together because to me they have always been inseparable in writing.

Since violence and disturbing motifs (such as abuse, gore, disturbing sexual content etc.) traditionally play a prominent role in the horror and thriller genres I'll center my attention on those. Though I'll also take care to explore dark themes in a broad sense applicable to other genres as well.

Various factors play a part in making the dark appealing to us, one being the human desire to peek behind the curtain and rob our fears of their power. By facing them in a safe, controlled environment we can stare right into their yellow eyes and desensitize ourselves. And through that, perhaps, gain the confidence to face these fears in reality as well.

Another one is catharsis. Some folks enjoy disturbing media as a healthy, secure outlet for their forestations. It lets their lizard brains bare their teeth without actually biting anyone, like a puppy play fighting.The public hanging of old, we as a western society used to love so, is now replaced with violent TV and fiction. Just. You know. With the difference of fiction not actually hurting anyone. And hanging making people dead. Yep.

Some people watch horror movies for the adrenaline rush, and write fiction which lets their readers experience the same, as a meta-analysis of the studies about mediated fight (1) confirmed,“Evidence also emerged that sensation seeking is associated with a greater enjoyment of fright and violence, which was consistent with other research [...]”

And of course, there's nothing wrong with any of that. But for me, personally, it has always been for the sake of exploration, of seeking to connect with humanity, to bridge the good things we are and the outright gruesome into a cohesive whole. While still keeping a layer of distance between reality to keep it safe.

So a fear of becoming homeless turns into monster stalking you and blocking the entry of your workplace every morning. Kind of a cheesy example, but you get the gist.

Writing provides us with a channel to explore those fears, to cut them down into pieces and hold against the light.

To understand them.

But that's just me.

Now we've cleared up why we're drawn to it, the question remains: Why should you integrate dark themes into your writing?

2. Benefits to Your Writing

Not to tap into a cliche, but, light doesn't exist without dark. You can't define the one without the glaring contrast of the other as a counterpart.

When you try to write a story that is completely pure, you'll end up with a flat mimicry of reality. Not to say you can't write a positive feel-good story, but it's like with GCI buildings in movies. Without a bit of scratch, they're not convincing. They don't feel real.

Imagine you add a hint of darkness to your story. May that be in the characterization, a breath held too long as your MC has to calm themselves down, a glance too harsh to be gentle from an old person across the street, moments of awkwardness when someone accidentally breaks a topic all present silently agreed to never talk about. Or in basic world building, monotone news voices droning on about crimes, tagged houses, and playgrounds where no child sets a foot on anymore.

Details like these may seem inconsequential, but they can roughen a story up just enough to make it into something raw.

To bring it to life.

Human experience doesn't only consist of roses and love triangles. A writer who keeps that in mind and works it in their stories in a respectful, emphatic way, possess a certain edge. In my opinion.

The key to writing dark themes, especially when you want them to be the focus of your story, is to approach them like peeling onions. Shhh, hear me out, I'll explain.  

Let's tell a story about hmm … a vampire. This is just an example, okay?

So we got a superficial plot of a teenager waking up with bloodlust gnawing at his gumps. Fairly simple. This is the surface layer.

To go deeper we have to peel off another one, we need to look at how he deals with the conflict we created (the vampirism).This is the reaction layer. At first, he freaks out and then resigns himself to starving because he'd rather scratch up his own arms than hurt someone else. His quick acceptance tells us he's both a nice kid and used to being screwed over by life.

When we go to the next layer, we realize why he's used to it. This one I like to call the core, it's what ties the dark theme together with characterization.

The relationship with his parents is strained, they demand nothing but outstanding performances outside inside and out of school while simultaneously neglecting him emotionally and physically. He has to deal with them sucking the life out of him on top of his newly acquired vampirism doing the same. Of course, depending on how you're inclined, you could spin this thread into a dramatic end scene of him cracking under the pressure and sucking their blood out in return, or he spares them after he learned he has a right to companionship and food and munches on squirrels or something. Whichever scenario you prefer.

So you see, the emotional core we've unveiled is is him feeling undeserving of basic human needs. And it affects how he deals with both the vampirism and abuse, one being a simple metaphor for the other.

Every theme has several layers, and once at the core, it's time to rebuild your story and make every element match accordingly. If you want. What matters is you can dig to a real, raw humanity through your dark subject and that's to me, the truly impactful aspect of dark fiction.

But unfortunately, not everyone gets it. You probably made the experience of relatives and friends judging your writing at some point, maybe even when you were just writing 'normal’ stuff. Golly, you think, when they're like this now, how badly would they react once you put all that saucy vampirism in? The thought doesn't bear contemplating.

Why exactly though, are dark themes such a taboo for some people that they get 'concerned' about your mental wellbeing when you preoccupy yourself with them?

3. Why Others Judge but You (still) Shouldn't be Ashamed

People, in general, love simple concepts. Like father, like son. You are what you wear.

The media you consume defines you.

Pushing people into tiny neat boxes is tempting because it's so damned easy. It doesn't require much thought, and as we all know, thinking hurts. So it's no surprise most writers of dark content, especially horror writers, face a certain... judgment. When you consume dark content you're branded as a bit weird, when you create it you might as well be the devil.

That's a bit of an exaggeration, but you get my drift.

Though what to do when someone cocks an eyebrow at your work, besides walking away or telling them to screw off? Well- that's what you got me for. I dived deep into research so you can refute anything people will throw at you with solid facts (should for whatever reason basic common sense not be enough) and maybe quieten some of your own worries.

Most studies and articles I found were more about violent video games (since that seems to be a Hotly Debated Topic™), but I figure it serves a similar service as violent books and movies.

Already 2011 studies which supported the outcome of aggression being a causation of violent media have been rejected by the US Supreme Court in the Brown v EMA (2), stating, “These studies have been rejected by every court to consider them, and with good reason: They do not prove that violent video games cause minors to act aggressively (which would at least be a beginning). Instead, “[n]early all of the research is based on correlation, not evidence of causation, and most of the studies suffer from significant, admitted flaws in methodology.”  

And studies 2016 and more recently have only further affirmed that decision, finding no relation between violent video games and increasing aggression (3) and not supporting any prior studies.

These prior studies had been, well, manipulated is such an ugly word. Let’s go with: primed to fit the desired outcome.

Some actually legit studies analyzed media history from 2005 to 2012 and showed an obvious decline of general social violence in connection to the introduction of more violent media︀ (4), implying violent media serves as a sort of catharsis for the modern western world, stating,”We find no evidence of an increase in crime associated with video games and perhaps a decrease.”

Puh, now we got these dry as desert facts out of the way -

Honesty, writing about dark or disturbing things is not a thing to be ashamed of, watching violent media doesn't turn you violent (assuming you're a person capable of differentiating between fiction and reality) and writing about it certainly doesn't mean you're sick.

We as humans aren’t perfect and pure, so common sense dictates the things we create are neither. Writing about the whole scope of human experiences can only benefit you.

So go on and fly my little bird, further your horizons and write some dark fiction.

That's all I have for you today, I'd love to hear your thoughts and maybe get a discussion going!

See ya in two weeks,

Yaiden Part.

**

Sources:

1.Hoffner C, Levine K. Enjoyment of Mediated Fright and Violence: A Meta-Analysis, MEDIA PSYCHOLOGY, 7, 207–237 Copyright © 2005, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc.

2.McCarthy R, Coley S, Wagner M, et al. Does playing video games with violent content temporarily increase aggressive inclinations? A pre-registered experimental study. J Exp Soc Psychol.

3.Brown v EMA, 564 US 08-1448 (2011).

4.Cunningham S, Engelstatter B, Ward M. Violent video games and violent crime. Southern Economic Journal

[amourete-blog1]

(( leans in.

so i realized i intended to talk about this at one point and never did but

if you see one of those starter memes - you know, the sentence ones - and someone you follow reblogs one, here are some tips.

Establish a relationship. “a relationship? like romance?” you ask. no, no, just a relationship. any relationship. friends? enemies? past lovers? you get the gist.

“but our characters already have a relationship!” (meaning they’ve spoken at least once before - from the moment they first see each other, those characters have a relationship of some sort.) good! all the better! re-establish it.

you can do this by having your characters acknowledge who they are to each other. this can be through body language, gesture, attitude, voice, or... dialogue! which is usually what sentence starters are. this means picking which starter you send in is extremely important.

this goes hand in hand with tip 2: Establish a situation. a scenario, a problem, a location... something. here’s an example:

“I’m okay.” - look at this. look at it on its own. this tells you nothing. you get absolutely no hints whatsoever. if you send this to a partner, they’re going to be forced to come up with everything on their own, and they’re probably going to be frustrated! OR you might just get a reply you can’t play off, which means that thread dies before it even got a chance to live. no, non, [buzzer sound]. 

“Shhh, I want her to think I’m dead.”  - this establishes a situation. someone (your character, A) is faking their own death. they could be found out. there is danger, and a problem: they need to not be found out. or, alternately, maybe the responding character (B) wants them to be found out. plot twist! it also somewhat establishes a relationship: A is addressing B very casually, and is expecting B to follow through. this means A has at least an iota of trust in B. is that trust misplaced? we don’t know! find out on the next thrilling episode! (this, if it was’t obvious, is an excellent starter for exactly this reason. send this one.)

“Are you alright?” - the only situation this establishes is that someone could have been/was hurt somehow, and the only relationship is that of someone who maybe cares like. 0.0001% about them. it could be made to work by the responding character, but overall? nope.

“She’s late for work? Great! The one time we were doing something important!” this one is super specific, but believe it or not, that’s actually a good thing. you could even change the “for work” bit to literally anything else/take it out entirely and it would still work. it establishes a relationship: the two characters are co-workers/partners of some kind. it also establishes a situation: someone - a mutual friend/acquaintance is late, and is needed for whatever they’re doing to succeed. these characters are going to have to go on without her. they also establish that whatever they’re doing is “important” - now it just falls on the rpers of this scene to establish what that thing is, and exactly how important it is. maybe they’re testing a new science experiment? maybe they’re looking for somebody’s lost dog? excitement! risk! adventure! send this one.

sentence starters can be made to work. selecting good ones will help them work. don’t put the pressure on your scene partner to come up with these things all on their own. please. it’s hard and it means we can’t respond as quickly to you, because we’re trying to desperately scrape together some semblance of a scene so you can continue it.

i hope this helps o/

[pinkalexlive]

hgnnn fuckkkk wisdom teeth suck

sorry I haven’t been doin this much, I found a cool new thing last Wednesday and kinda got hooked so if you wanna see me put a mini version of me through various universes, here’s some of my writing! https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/jumpchain-multicross-si-crossing-via-field.826356/

Anyway. Time to do this. Caps are being used, grammar is activated, I’m ready to be professional.

Last time on Pact: I like Blake and he’s seeing magical visions, Paige is the good cousin, Molly’s ded.

This time on Pact!

I was dressed and heading out the door in less than a minute, a plain black toque pulled over my hair.

Good hustle my boi good job.

Mirror people, visions of talking dogs and stretched faces, vampire hunters or witch hunters or whatever they were.  It was unbelievable, impossible to wrap my head around.  So I didn’t believe it, didn’t try to understand it.  I didn’t disbelieve it either.  I was processing it, really, filing it all away for future consideration.

I’m really happy to see a protagonist that didn’t just discredit the crazy stuff. He saw weird dreams, but he doesn’t feel they’re dreams. It’s a nice breath of fresh air.

Molly and Paige had been the ones to greet me with smiles on their faces, to hug me instead of offering an informal handshake.  We’d played together, laughed, and bridged the gap between being family to being friends.

Ooh, I really hope Paige stays okay. At least one of the good cousins needs to make it out alive.

Molly’s death wouldn’t have been random.  There had been a reason, and that reason had driven my grandmother to do what she’d done.  All of the fallout from that, the divide in the family, the animosity that had driven me from home to a cold, hostile, unfriendly world, shared that same root cause.  It was hard to pin how much of my haste was self preservation and how much was my desire to get answers. 

I have a feeling that the grandma killed Molly not out of a deliberate choice, but out of inaction. She dumped this on Molly, Molly wasn’t ready to handle, somebody killed Molly. 

The door opened, and my bear of a landlord stood in the way, leveling a stare at me.

HE’S EVIL I’M CALLING IT

“Yeah?”  He switched from annoyance to concern in an instant.  “Need a ride?”

Or??

“I think my cousin died.  It’s two hours away, so if you needed the car, I could bring it back in a pinch, figure a way to get back, or-”

“Shhh,” he interrupted me.  I made myself stop.  Very calm, soothing, he said, “It’s fine.  I’m so sorry about your cousin, baby.”

I shrugged, breaking eye contact.  I wasn’t good with people being kind to me.  Not without some warning.  “I’m not sure it’s true.  It doesn’t make sense.”

“Go, do what you need to do,” he said.  He extended his hand, keys dangling from the ring that was now around his middle finger.

Nah, he’s evil. I have bad vibes. Idk why, but he’s givin me bad vibes. I want him to just be a nice landlord but come on, he’s a landlord in a Wideboy book. 

“Speaking of… weren’t you going to set things up for Goosh’s show?”

I winced.  My job.  “I didn’t think.  I don’t- shit.”

“It’s fine.  I’ll explain to the others.  We’ll use the Sisters.”

Immediate flashbacks to Skyward Sword. Also, these sisters sound ominous.

I could see movement behind Joel.  The girl in the mirror, moving her arms.

The girl in the mirror raised her arms.  Forearms crossed against one another, forming an ‘x’.

“Go back to bed.  Sleep.  I’ve got a bad feeling, and I’m not sure if it’s just because I feel like you’ll never get back to bed if you go now or if it’s something else.  But I’ve got to go, and I feel like I’d be a lot happier if I knew you were in bed, instead of wandering around a dark building alone.”

Blake is a smart protagonist, not in the ‘I can build cool sci-fi tech’ way, but in the genre-savvy, ‘takes things as he sees them’ way. I guess I mean Wisdom wasn’t his dump stat. I’m so down for that.

“Gut feeling?” he asked.  “That’s not like you.”

“Gut feeling,” I said.  “Instincts.”

Oh my gosh, if a gut feeling is a kind of magic in here, I’m gonna be sad and happy. I literally use that in my own grimdark supernatural horror whatever story. Stop taking my ideas, good authors!

The girl in the mirror looked nervous, pacing back and forth, occasionally peering around, as if she could get a different perspective.  A moment later, she strode out of view, stepping beyond the boundaries of the frame.

My guess? She’s Molly, but something magical is keeping Blake from recognizing her. Calling it.

I unlocked Joel’s Corolla, a car old enough that the only way to open the door was to actually put the key in the lock, and then stopped.

COROLLA DRIVERS REPRESENT!

I moved the rear-view mirror until I had a view of the girl in the back seat.

“Answers,” I said.

“Go, and I’ll give you answers,” she responded.  She sounded even fainter and more muffled than before.  “You think the lights went out by coincidence?”

I wonder if this mirror girl is gonna stick around through the book. That’d be a cool companion.

“Rose.”

“Rose… who are you supposed to be?  My grandmother?”

“No.  I think I’m you.  Your- our parents named me after her.”

Of course. Mirror world. Alternate dimension. Alternate timeline Blake! Also, I knew before but it’s nice to see confirmation that the grandma is named Rose so I can call her that. Except... now there are two Rose people so I still have to say grandma. Actually, maybe I’m paranoid, but what if Rose is full of shit here and not actually Blake at all. She did slip up on the parents line...

“I’m you, with one fundamental difference,” Rose elaborated.  “I’m a girl.  I think grandmother is trying to game the system somehow.  A failsafe or trap or something, that kicks in when Molly dies and the inheritance turns over.”

That’s terrifying and brilliant if grandma could just change a whole reality like that just to make a failsafe.

“Not the time consuming kind of complicated.  This stuff was explained to me.  I crashed into existence, with only a few places I could go.  I’ve got a lifetime of memories, but I get that I’m a fake.”

I keep getting immediately proven wrong. Rose isn’t from another world, she just kinda popped into existence for all of this. I think. Who explained it to her? Grandma Rose? But either way, this description of how she exists is really unnerving. Living in the mirrors would suck.

“The lawyer, Beasley, he was cleaning up.  Picking up books and stuff that Molly left lying around.  When I asked what was going on, he said you were next in line, for custody of the house.  After you, it’s Kathy, then Ellie, then Roxanne, then Ivy, then Paige.”

Huh. I wonder why Paige is last. Unless what Peter said really fucked the grandma’s opinion of Paige up, there’s foul play here.

“How do your memories line up?  Molly got picked, but… you were at the house?”

“I was home, with mom and dad.  They’re mad, you know, obviously, because I didn’t get Hillsglade House, and they thought it was as close to a given as you could get.  Mad at me, especially.  I was in bed, mostly asleep, and then I was at the house.  I remember everything about my life, but I don’t feel like I experienced any of it.  You know?”

More Rose knowledge. So she has her whole life’s memories until some point after grandma died. But that was all downloaded into her instead of actually living it, then she was brought to this mirror dimension. Creepy.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Existential Interlude

Danny’s hyperfocusing has a fizzling out, as hyperfocusing does, and he finds himself going through a minor spiral questioning everything that he is.

Dragons are OP and Danny got in a lucky shot.

Danny flew through the skies, soaring high above Amity Park.  The wind stroked playful fingers through his hair and Danny laughed as he dove up into a cloud, dropping out of it a moment later.  "Wet and cold, just like I knew it would be.“ Concentrating, Danny slipped into that space between the real and unreal. The world became even more vibrant and detailed than it was before, every color saturated with something more than it was.  There were colors and sounds that Danny couldn’t even put a name to, but he knew they were beautiful and that he needed to find a way to put those onto paper.

The water droplets fell through his body, a weird feeling of being rinsed on the inside, and Danny shook his head, returning to the real world.  "Does this count as real though? What’s the difference between real and unreal? If I can walk through walls, disappear and fly then what if like, cryptids and stuff are real?”  Danny snorted. “I need to bet with Tucker on who’ll spot Mothman first. I can see everywhere at once though so probably me.”

A few more minutes of flying, gliding on thermals that he should be too heavy to ride, and staring at birds, Danny flew back to his house.   Turning invisible, Danny watched the world grow darker, that infinite void beyond the illusionary constructs of buildings that held true reality and something so much more.  If only he could reach it.

Passing through the walls of his home, the shadows silvery and filled with ribbons of light that stretched in ways shapes couldn’t bend filling his sight, Danny grabbed a few clothes from his closet and phased into his bathroom.  Setting his clothes down, Danny focused in on the mirror, and gravity took hold again, dragging him back into the world of light and flesh and stone. He leaned forward, staring at his reflection. “Is that really me?”

His white-gloved hand came up to touch his sky blue skin.  A green flush from the rush of flying faded away from his cheeks, while he pulled his glove off to touch his hair.  It didn’t feel right, too soft and flowy like he was underwater - and he could feel his hand as though his hair were just more skin.  Now that he thought about it, Danny could see from his hairs too, the details on his palm blurred by proximity but the scar from the accident still crystal clear no matter how he was looking at it.

Click.  The most damning sound he’d ever heard in his short life.  A button, inside the machine. The whine of electricity he could always hear in the background crescendoed, the buzzing raising his hair.  Green light flooded the tunnel and Danny ran, ran to the edge where he’d be safe. But he was too late.

A flash of light and the world righted itself around him, gravity anchoring Danny firmly to the ground and his scars faint and hard to notice instead of glowing bright electric green.  Everything was right except him, his eyes that glowed with that inhuman light in the dark. Reaching up Danny turned on the light. He held onto the counter for dear life, whatever bits and pieces he had left of it, and glared at his reflection.  Skin tanned from time in the sun with Sam on her nature walks, that scar on his cheek from when Tucker dared him to climb the backyard tree high as he could when he was 8. Blue eyes, black hair, the nasa jacket that Jazz got him for his birthday- it all looked right.  But it still wasn’t, was it?

Getting undressed and getting in the shower, Danny willed the hot water to wash away his problem too.  And for the hundredth time, it didn’t listen.

“Ghosts aren’t monsters, and I’m not a ghost.  Ghosts aren’t monsters and I’m not a ghost.” Watching the water run over him and even some dripping right through him, Danny hugged himself and let his tears get lost in the spray.  “Ghosts aren’t monsters, I’m not a ghost. Does that make me a monster?  Am I a ghost?  Didn’t I die?”

Danny scrubbed until his skin felt raw, pausing when he reached for his towel.  For a moment, his arm was translucent, water falling through him like he wasn’t there.  When it turned solid, the arm was dry as a desert. The light flickered, and Danny toweled off furiously.

Danny redressed and bolted for his room, grabbing up his notebook and flipping through the pages.  He needed something to focus on, he was riding high on that hyperfocusing for days before reality crashed in on him.  “Ectoplasm is an energy thief, cold as the abyss or hot as the sun depending on energy levels. Can see in the dark for 60 feet, can see infrared light if pressed, also absorbent thereof.”  Science, facts, things he knew about his condition thanks to experiments with Sam and Tuck. These were important things, they were his real now.

“Ultraviolet light appears as a weird color that’s got no name in human language and naming it is meaningless due to the lack of relative meaning.  Therefore I have named the color blurple, though if I concentrate harder and let myself drift further into it, I can see more colors that fit in the blurple range, such as Blae, Torqua, and Grack.”  Sam thought those were the dumbest names he could think of, so Danny needed dumber ones.

“Upon drifting off and transforming into my ghost form, I can see creatures and entities that skitter around, moving around everyone and thing that isn’t ectoshielded in the house.  Sam has spiders made of flowers following her all the time, and Tucker has a wolf constructed from floppy disks and electron cannons and other old computer parts always wandering near him.  I can hear and even sorta feel an odd sort of radiance surrounding people and plants and even inanimate objects that paints them in green shades when in ghost mode.”

Snapping the notebook shut and tossing it to the side, Danny pulled on his hair.  This wasn’t working. “I need normal. I need something totally average and human to do.”

Scrambling to his desk, Danny pulled out his sketchbook, grabbed his pencils, and remembered that beautiful panoramic scene of the sky above Amity.  The scratch of his pencil against the paper filled the silence and Danny let himself get lost in the sky he was putting to paper. Art was good. Art was safe.  “I should make a new compound so I can draw in Blurple.” Art gave him ideas. This was ok.

Tuesday afternoon Danny jogged down the stairs to the main lab two steps at a time, inspiration ringing in his skull as a design vibed in the back of his head.  There was so much potential to be had, so-called laws of physics to bend toward their breaking points and pigments to force into showing him the colors human eyes weren’t equipped for and he had work to do.  Coming to a stop, Danny cursed his ADHD for distracting him, as he saw the eerie Veridian light of the Event Horizon to the Ghost Zone and turned to look at it. The portal spun lazily on, the spiraling vortex of a green galaxy from a supercluster sized birds’ eye view.  In front of that was his father, Wearing his hazmat suit and a soda hat.

All Danny had to do was walk away from this and not question what his dad was doing, and he could’ve just gone back to his work.  But no he had to be dumb things like curious and loud-mouthed.  “Uh, Dad whatcha doin?”

His dad stopped drinking from his soda hat and his eyes flitted over to Danny at his side.  “Shhh, Danny you’ll spook the ghosts.” Spinning the reel of a fishing pole, Dad held up the line, which gave off a vibrant glow to human eyes.  Danny could see it, damningly real and in all three dimensions that his own clay form was meant to be in. It wasn’t like this human shell though, it was real .  “The Fenton Fisher is coated in an anti-phasing resin your mother and I made!  Ghosts can’t break it or phase through it!” Real and dangerous, if put in the hands of a competent hunter with the sense to coat a net instead of a fishing line.

“Coated, but what’s the line actually made of?  Did you and Mom come up with another new alloy or did you guys go into the beige portal and find the ore and then synthesize a new alloy?”  Danny couldn’t think of anything they had on hand as flexible as the metal between his fingers, other than actual thread. “Also why a fishing line?”

“Discovered it in that underground place and synthesized it Danno!  It’s stronger than tungsten and flexible as spider silk.” Dad paused and thought for a moment.  “Well it wasa spider made out of rocks that we killed to get the original samples…”

“There’s life beyond that portal?”  Danny dropped the line, staring with his mouth hanging open at his father.  “You mean the rocks are animate, possibly sentient creatures? What if there’s sapient life there?”

Dad laughed, booming with shared excitement but Danny could hear at the edges of his voice where humans couldn’t hear.  He wasn’t excited for the same reasons as Danny. “Maybe! Good thing that portal doesn’t start up unless plugged in. I tried pulling the plug on this one and it just stays open.”  Dad ruffled Danny’s hair. “But if ghosts have taught me and the family anything it’s to not trust anything that comes through a portal.” Dad chuckled and tossed the line into the portal, and Danny frowned.  "I’m fishing for ghosts, Danno! Since they can’t escape the line, I’ll be able to get them on a dissection table!“

The lights flickered and buzzed louder than before as Danny’s rubbed his arms, nose wrinkled.  His father really thought he’d catch anything with nothing more than a dangling hook? Did he truly think ghosts to be so, so stupid?  So ignorant? How could he be so arrogant when he could barely hear the humming of sparks running through their machines, let alone the rivers of light and fire dancing and crackling and snapping their song as they pulled the world along?  There was so much more a ghost could see that humans simply weren’t equipped for, so much to hear and taste and feel. When he was a ghost Danny was a cloud of stardust and volcanic ash and comet ice, floating around in the silvery void of the night as the stars sung their lullaby to him- to everything.  Danny was still himself in either form, he knew he was, but how to get his father to see that when he couldn’t see?

"This soda runs right through ya!”  Dad said, pulling Danny from his irate musings, and handed Danny the fishing pole.  "Be right back!“ Wait, what? Before Danny could voice that thought, his dad was gone.

So, of course, that was when Danny was dragged toward the portal by the line going taught, and he dug his heels in to try and stand his ground.  For a millisecond the line went loose before Danny was yanked a foot forward onto his face. Looking up he saw a blue scaly paw the size of his body exit the portal, talons the size of Danny’s arm each.  It pulled the serpentine head of what Danny could only call a blue-scaled dragon out of the portal, the end of the Fenton Fisher in it’s maw. Said hooked end proved truly tougher than Danny when it was chewed on then spat onto the ground, still shaped like a hook.  Danny scrambled to his feet and the dragon snorted at him, other paw coming out and grabbing him faster than anything that size should move. "I want to go!” It said the force of its breath blowing his hair back. Danny reached frantically for the void and it filled him, transforming him into his ghost form.  "I have to go!“ There was heat in the air now and Danny hated the idea of what came next.

His body became a cloud of green mist and escaped the iron grip, reforming next to it.  "Sorry, my dad’s in the bathroom but you can go right after.” Danny recognized he was outgunned and lunged for the nearest bazooka.  The dragon took a breath and Danny phased. Everything was engulfed in fire, green flames that burnt and detonated all the chemical vials left out for storage.  Everything burned, even Danny’s intangible form burned and when it ended he held the bazooka in two shaking human hands. Taking aim, he pulled the trigger, funneling all his remaining strength into the bazooka.

The dragon was flung back by the force of the blast and into the portal, and Danny slumped against a wall.  He heard footsteps charging downstairs and his father calling his name, but Danny was out cold soon enough.

Green on all sides, the whispers and screams and songs of sorrow and rage and joy across an entire plane of existence not his own that echoed in his skull in his blood and flesh and bones.  He tried to run, but it was too late, and light, the explosion that brought all things to form and unform, and pain. White hot pain like a hundred thousand lashes of a barb covered whip against every inch of his body.  Fire consumed him, icy darkness swallowing him whole as lightning raced and arced through every nano meter of his being. Pain fit itself between every muscle, every bone, every cell of his body and no matter how much he screamed it wouldn’t stop.

Waking up after being burned by a dragon, inside and out, is simultaneously what one does and does not want.  On one hand, it meant Danny was alive! He could feel things in that way his warm flesh body could feel. On the other, most of that input was pain, pain and more pain.  Danny groaned and opened his eyes slowly, groaning louder at the sight of the small medical bay in one of the lower labs. His body had burns on it, felt like, far worse than the iron hitting his arm when he was 7.

“My back is burnt to shit, and these bandages feel itchy ,” Danny mumbled, turning his head to see if there was anything new in the medbay.  He saw his mother jogging over to his side, a glass of water in her hands. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey baby,” she said softly.  When Danny pushed himself up she stopped him and he groaned.  “Careful Danny, you got some nasty burns. It’ll be a bit before you can just walk around again.”

“Actually, Mom, I think that accident with the portal did more than scar me.”  And boy did it. Looking at his hand, Danny saw the arcs of lightning tracing his veins like blooming flowers.  “I uh. When I scrape my knee or accidentally cut myself in the kitchen or something it heals up in like, an hour.”  There was caution and curiosity in his mother’s gaze - in the faint whispers, he could hear of her aura. Danny didn’t often mention the accident, and his parents were horrified at the news, so the lasting effects were probably a worry to them.  Danny sat up slowly regardless and groaned as he sat with his arms in his lap. Straightening up drew a hiss from his lips but he felt fine enough to sit up like this. “Can I get that water please?”

“Here.”  Mom handed it over, lingering to make sure he could grasp it.  Danny had never been so grateful that his ghost was on recharge, hand staying perfectly solid while he took long sips to clear up the dryness of his throat.  "Sweetie, we found you in the middle of the flaming lab holding a bazooka.“ Said like that it sounded as if he’d fired at the wrong target. Though Mom was clearly just concerned.  "What happened?”

“Dad was fishing for ghosts, handed me the Fenton Fisher while he went to the bathroom.  A minute later I made a fascinating discovery.” Danny took another sip of water. “Dragons apparently existed.”  He’d never seen his mother’s eyes grow so wide so fast, and the shrill tones of fear echoed in the room. “I managed to shoot it back in the portal and I guess it just flew off to find something better to roast.”

Mom took a few deep breaths, each exhale dulling the fear ringing in Danny’s head.  "I’m going to have a talk with your father about being careful with the portal,“ she said.  "You rest up, ok?”

“Can I have a notebook and pencil?  I had an idea for upgrading the Gravity Inverter mark IV, but I stopped to talk with Dad before I could start.“  Dragon fire or no dragon fire, Danny needed to get this idea somewhere before he lost it. “Oh, my binder didn’t get too burnt up did it?”

His mother agreed to the notebook after assuring Danny that the binder was undamaged and brought it to him with his sketching materials.  She kissed his head, told him goodnight, and that was the last point at which he noticed any time passing. Danny drew, examined his design, and edited it over and over until he fell asleep.

Wednesday morning Danny was up and feeling restored, the shadows filled with silvery light again and beams of sunlight warming his skin carrying echoes of Starsong.  While he got ready for the day, Danny found himself humming those odd tunes he could hear coming from the sun, and noticed that everywhere he hummed it, the lights grew brighter and the room warmed up comfortably.

Grabbing his backpack Danny held up his wrist ray and put an ear in the sunlight.  He listened carefully, and once sure he had some small grasp of the sound, sang three notes to the ray in the barest whisper.  Without so much as trying to see the vibrancy beyond his human eyes, Danny could see the ectoplasmic battery within light up like a tiny star, and it whined with the sound of a building discharge.

Once sure that it wouldn’t actually fire, Danny let out a breath.  "Ok, fascinating note to self: singing the sound of sunlight can charge up…” a look around the room showed all his electronics buzzing and humming louder and brighter than before.  "Everything with a battery. Test if it works on dead batteries later.“

Breakfast was a tad more subdued than usual, Jazz shooting him looks every couple seconds when she thought Danny wasn’t looking.  Danny flicked a piece of cereal at her to make her stop. Jazz denied him any rides that week. Danny munched extra loud on his bacon.

Sam and Tucker responded to Danny’s revelation about as well as he could expect.  "You shot a dragon with a bazooka and lived to tell the tale?” Sam sounded so deadpanned shocked that Danny found it hard to not let her walk into a stop sign.  He graciously pulled her out of its path anyway.

“How?”  Tucker half shouted.  "Dragons are like, near indestructible!“

"Lucky shot I guess?”  Danny shrugged. “It burned me so bad I went human again, which was just.  The worst experience.” Danny shuddered. “Felt like I was burnt inside.”

Tucker wrapped an arm around Danny’s shoulder and Sam did the same, pulling him into an odd moving group hug.  "Dude, don’t worry. We got your back and the dragon is gone.“

"Yeah, I’m sure your Mom had a long talk with your dad about leaving you alone with the open portal.”  Sam rolled her eyes. “The most irresponsible thing.”

“No, Sam,” Danny snorted.  "The most irresponsible thing he did was pulling the house into an alternate dimension where everything was a frozen wasteland.“

"How are you still half alive?”  Tucker snorted as Danny elbowed him.  They stopped at a corner and Tucker frowned as Danny shivered.  "Aw c'mon!“

The trio disentangled when from the concrete rose a blob of green with huge red eyes and a mouth made of the same ectoplasm as it’s skin - membrane?- body.  Eight green tentacles rose up in threat and the friends had their wrist rays trained on it. To everyone’s shock, when each ray struck the ectopus it splattered backward, leaving a stain on the street.

"We should walk around that, ectoplasm is nigh impossible to get out of your shoes and then they animate.”  Danny walked calmly around the puddle, making it to the other end of the crosswalk before noticing his friends weren’t there.  "Guys?“

"Danny did we just…” Sam stared at the puddle with rising horror and Danny furrowed his brow in confusion.  "Did we just kill that ghost?“ Oh. Oh .

Danny shook his head, wondering how he failed to mention that to his friends.  "No. Ghosts are 4 dimensional, we just splattered it’s constructed vessel. It’ll make a new body in the Zone.”  Danny jerked a thumb in the direction of their school. “We’re gonna be late.”

“… yeah, ok.”  Tucker took Sam’s hand and they walked around the puddle and caught up with Danny.  After all they couldn’t be late again.

Classes passed, Danny’s meds helped him keep focused, boring teachers had him slipping out of tangibility and visibility.  Danny was sure he’d not gotten so much sleep in weeks because this was the most lucid he’d felt since the accident. Mr. Falluca was very happy to see him so attentive again and Ms. Harris told him after class that she was glad he’d started getting better.

Lunch rolled around with Danny digging through the food Agatha had given him on the way.  Apparently she stood by her accusation of him being skin and bones. “Oh yeah,” he said, swallowing the last of the meatloaf she’d special made him.  “I made an odd discovery this morning. I’ve been thinkin on it and I guess it involves enhanced sensory reception and processing? Like my ghost finally reached my ADHD and now that’s involved in it fully.”

Sam nodded along, finishing up the last of her salad.  “You didn’t look like you were overloaded this morning so I’m hoping that this was a pleasant bout of stimulation.”

“Yeah, I can hear sunlight.”  Danny took a bite of his sandwich.  “Like, light is a wave particle, so it’s material so i guess it almost makes sense to be able to hear it?  I could always hear electrical currents.”

Sam took a long sip of her shake, staring at him with warring concern and curiosity in her whispers.  “What’s it sound like?” Stars, she had to ask him that .  How could he put it into words that humans could fully understand?  It was a song he could feel echoing in his bones if he listened long enough, he could hear it, feel it now.

“I’ll uh sing it.  But later, when there’s not a bunch of people around.”  Judging the look on Sam’s face he added, “The Wrist Ray got so charged it nearly went off when I sang it earlier Sam.”

“Fair enough,” Sam conceded.  At the same time, Tucker slid onto the bench next to Danny, draping himself over the teen.  Danny gave Tucker a pat on the head.

“Strike three Tuck?”

“Try strike three thousand.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is about going to some stupid dance,” Sam said to the eye rolling of the boys.  “I don’t need someone to ask me to go just to feel special.”

“Sam you literally strong armed our middle school into doing a Sadie Hawkins dance within your second year of being there.”  Tuck scanned the crowds of students, looking for a girl he hadn’t asked out yet. “And dragged me n Danny into it.”

“Yeah, it’s equally unequal to say that only the girls are supposed to be asking the guys out,” Danny pointed out, half paying attention to the conversation.  The other half was split between the filling feeling of absorbing his wrist ray charge while eating, improving upon his parents’ laser rifle designs so that it was made strictly from recyclables and solar powered, and staring into the sea of teenagers.  "Why not just anyone ask anyone out?“

"Yeah, like Paulina.”  Tucker nudged Danny’s head in the direction of one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever seen.  Tan skin and dark curly hair, strutting in whatever the latest fashionable outfit is - some pink top and jeans - and looking every bit a model as anyone might assume she could be.

“Yeah,” Danny said, forgetting his sandwich entirely.  "Paulina.“

"Please,” Sam scoffed.  "Girls like her are a dime a dozen.“

Danny pulled some change from his wallet.  "I got fifty cents in change, what’s that get me?”  Sam rolled her eyes, punching his shoulder.

“Can’t judge a book by it’s cover Danny.”

“Only way to find out of if the content is as good as the cover is to go and check out that book!”  Tucker gave Danny a nudge, lifting him to his feet like some madman.

“Are you crazy, Tuck?  I can’t ask Paulina, I get butterflies in my stomach around cute girls.”

Sam tilted her head at him and deadpanned, “Am I a joke to you?”

“You are 89% likely an eldritch abomination fitting itself in a human meat puppet so as to observe us in disguise until we stop amusing you,” Danny pointed out.  "Between that and your steel soled combat boots, only a fool wouldn’t be nervous near you Sam.“

"Damn,” Tucker laughed, “that was a better recovery than I’d’ve used.”

“Kudos to you Danny.  Now go, and try to keep the butterflies in your stomach, not your mouth.”  Sam was shoving him like the cruel sadist she was toward the tree Paulina was eating an apple under.  That was fine, movies were unrealistic and everyone who eats apples isn’t an asshole.

“Uh, hi,” Danny said, leaning an arm on the tree.  "I’m-“ think of something funny, think of something suave, Fuck I’m falling.

"Please don’t say you’ve fallen for me,” Paulina sighed.  "That’s so last year.“

"No, actually, I was too busy admiring your hair to notice that root I tripped on.”  Danny pulled himself back up to his feet and held out a hand. “I’m Danny. I…” that numbness was isolated intangibility. His pants fell.  Shit. Everyone who was watching like a flock of vultures started laughing.

Paulina was laughing as well, her aura flaring up a bright shade of pink and smelling like junipers.  "A gentleman typically tips his hat, but I’ll give you points for originality.“ Good, he had a chance still.  Danny picked up his pants and oh stars above No, Sam please.

"Kudos, Danny.  You set the record for how fast someone can drown in the shallow end of the gene pool.”  What god had he pissed off? Was it death? Paulina’s aura darkened, soured, and Danny bit back a groan.

“You did not just call me shallow, did you?”  It had to be Death, he hardly defied any other deity.

“I do believe I could stand in a puddle of you and not get my ankles wet.”  Danny would’ve called that a great burn were he not being murdered, a second time, by the same person.

“Shallow?  I am not shallow!”  Paulina looked pissed, in every way that Danny could pick out.

Sam dragged him away, saying something about his song, and Danny was too busy trying to keep up his pants to fight her on it.  As soon as they stopped, however, Danny fixed himself up and glared daggers at her. “What the hell Sam? I got her to laugh, she was genuinely amused not mocking me!”

Sam crossed her arms, sighing in something that sounded frustratingly like pity.  "Danny, girls like Paulina aren’t worth the embarrassment of putting up with her snippy, shallow insults.  She’ll dump you immediately upon feeling you don’t boost her popularity or something.“

"You don’t even know that, and I don’t care, Sam.”  Danny pulled at his bangs and scowled at Sam. “Hell, what happened to ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ miss 'girls like her’?”

The bell rang and Danny groaned.  Sam was glaring at him, turning toward the school.  “Trust me Danny, she’s just a shallow little rich bitch and she doesn’t care about anything but the latest fashion.  I’ve met plenty of her type already.” Danny rolled his eyes, finished fixing up his pants, and grabbed his stuff for class.

After the last three classes of the day, Danny pulled out his phone and started typing on his way to the bathroom.

[To: TuckWiz, Gothica]: going for a fly, the ectopi only take a shot to stop, and apparently 3 to blow up.

Checking to make sure no one was in the bathroom, Danny closed his eyes and reached inward.  His body cooled down, the sounds of the everyday world faded away until the loudest he could hear from it was the buzzing whine of electricity in the walls.  He could see everything all around him at once, all the colors vibrant and full of so much more life than he could see when he was flesh and blood. Unfortunately, he could smell everything even better too.  “Stars, this place stinks.” Untethered from gravity, Danny slipped into that space just on the edge between reality and not, rising through the ceiling to the skies above.

Keeping himself invisible, Danny did a few loops in the air, soaring higher and higher away from the eyes of everyone on the ground.  Everything was so much more peaceful up in the sky. “Stars this is so cool. The panoramic view used to make me wanna puke, but now it’s just beautiful.  I can’t imagine being able to see like this all the time though.” Danny turned into a spin, heading for a cloud. “There’s a lot I don’t need to see in school.”  The cloud was cold and wet and dark inside, whispers of laughter and echoing wishes overlapping each other flowing through the puff of grey. Stopping in the middle of it, Danny hummed a few notes of that song from before, laughing when the whole cloud flared up with sunlight.  “Holy aurora that was beautiful!”

Flying out of the cloud, Danny let the water fall through him and dove for the ground.  He let gravity take hold, watched the world rush by faster and faster. With how high he’d been, Danny was sure he was already at terminal velocity.  So, he removed air resistance from the equation, falling faster as the air passed through him. And with his phasing through even the air, Danny watched as light passed through him as well, the world changing from it’s typical rainbow of variety to a wash of green, purple and silver.  And then Danny was below the earth itself, falling further and further into the crust.

He could just keep going.  Keep falling toward the core of the world, see if it could warm him while he was between it and a whole other reality entirely.  Listen as the molten starmetal sung to him clearer and clearer upon descent. But Danny wasn’t one for going down.

Danny stopped, flipping himself around and looking upward to where his heart, or the ghostly equivalent of it, was telling him the sky rested, waiting forever for all things to come to it.  Ascending to street level, Danny spun around and shook himself, taking in the scene. “I think I’m close to where we asked Agatha to help out. Wonder how she’s doing?” Letting the world fade to silvery shadows and clouds of green again, Danny looked all around through the walls and around humans.  Spotting the light of another spirit, he pushed off in her direction, grinning.

Returning to reality, Danny found a quiet place in the alleyway of the building and transformed.  Shaking off the weirdness that was entering his ghostly state, Danny headed to the entrance. It was a delight to find that Agatha was helping out almost more than Danny had been expecting.  People around the kitchen looked healthy, and Agatha shoved more food on Danny - which no teenager could possibly deny. Danny waved goodbye, unwrapping and taking a few bites out of his gifted burrito, and even made it all the way home in peace.

Danny almost bumped right into Jazz as she left for whatever she was doing.  “Unlicensed psych work again, Jazz?”

“Looking for spots to graffiti, Danny?”  Jazz rolled her eyes, heading to her car.  “Mom and Dad are on the phone with their main contractors in the government and I needed some air.”  Jazz stopped, and that frantic pen scratching noise rang in Danny’s ears like it always did when Jazz worried about him.  “Mom says a uh dragon burnt up the lab while you were in it. Explosion?”

“No, actually, a real ass dragon.”  Danny lifted up his shirt, grinning at his sister as she stared at the burn scars.  “Just barely got outta the way. I shot it back into the Astral Plane like a boss.”

Jazz was on him and inspecting the wound in what felt like milliseconds.  She rushed him into the livingroom and Danny sighed while Jazz fretted. “I’m walking around pretty dang fine, Jazz, I’m handling it.  Thanks though.”

“Danny, I need you to tell me what really happened down there.”  Jazz wasn’t convinced, clearly.  Considering Dad and Mom both had seen him and told him they saw his ghost half, he’d expect Jazz to have seen it too.

“This isn’t some breakdown or me rearranging things in my head to deal with the trauma or something Jazz.”  Danny stood up and pointed at the door to the main lab. “That portal in that lab is the real deal. Ghosts came out of it.  I’ve had to shoot them with my Wrist Ray.”

Jazz stared into Danny’s eyes for a moment, and Danny thought she might actually listen to him for once.  Then she sighed, shaking her head and heading to the stairs. “I’m here for you when you wanna talk about it Danny.”

Danny rolled his eyes and ran upstairs himself.  “First a shower, then that color compound.”