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subspencer · 3 years

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spencer has been on a case for a couple weeks now, and he’s coming back tonight. his plane was delayed so he wouldn’t have gotten home until really late so you try your hardest to stay awake by doing different things that google says helps, and eventually you fall asleep reading a book or something and when spencer comes home he sees you and just moves you to get comfy and kisses your head, then you wake up and then some fluff or smut doesn’t matter<33

hiii i wrote this all last night! it’s a bit of both fluff and smut!

wc: 1.4k

According to Google, the scent of pumpkin was known to arouse men, especially when combined with the scent of lavender. So you lit a bunch of different candles, a few of both scents, plus dozens of smaller ones to line the windowsills.

Chocolate is another aphrodisiac, as you’ve heard. You hand-dipped fresh strawberries in the fanciest chocolate money could buy, plating them up next two two champagne flutes and a chilled bottle of bubbly. It was the least you and Spencer deserved after weeks apart.

Everything looked great, until he texted you at nine-thirty in the evening, at the time you were expecting his plane to land.

I’m so sorry, a massive storm came through. Plane never left. We’re getting back on now, hope to land in a few hours.

Well, fuck. You were so prepared for him; all dressed up, glasses already poured, candles lit, and a set of new lingerie on.

But it was only three hours. That’s all that separated you from Spencer, and after so many days, you could manage to busy yourself for a few hours. He was worth the wait.

You passed eighty minutes by watching some tv, another twenty while playing a game on your phone, and twenty more by going back to the tv. Two hours down, one more to go. But you made the fatal mistake of having some of that champagne while you waited, and staying awake seemed harder to do with every passing minute.

With no coffee in the house to keep yourself up, you resorted to the internet again. The first search result was a listicle of tips and tricks:

1. Get Up and Walk Around

Okay, done. And while you walked around, you also accomplished tip number four, “Eat a Healthy Snack to Boost Energy”. With a whole, peeled carrot in one hand, you paced around Spencer’s apartment while chomping on the vegetable for a good ten minutes.

It worked, but only a little. So, you tried another item.

5. Start a Conversation to Wake Up Your Mind

It was a total bust. At goddamn eleven forty five in the evening, on a week night, not many people would be excited to pick up the phone. You tried a few numbers and all of them went to voice mail.

On to the next one.

3. Give Your Eyes a Break

Okay, so no screens. You put your phone down, shut the television off, and walked over to Spencer’s bookcase. Running your fingers along their spines, you were in awe of how many books he had. It was too many to pick from, so instead, you went to his bedside table and picked up the book he was last reading in bed.

You almost fell into the trap of sitting in bed to read it. You knew if you did that, you’d fall asleep right away. So you took it to the couch, grabbing one of his sweaters off his armchair on the way, and tossing it overhead.

In a bid of hope, you never got out of that lingerie you put on for him, but now it was starting to get chilly. You promised yourself to take it off the second you heard his keys hit the door; he’d never have to know you were anything less than the perfectly seductive piece you were dressed up as.

But, Jesus fucking Christ. Spencer reads some boring books.

Not boring, maybe, but ones that have words just in the damn title that you don’t even understand. You strained your mind through four of the pages, which took at least another twenty minutes anyways, and decided that was more than enough.

You checked your phone again, hoping for a miracle. And it came to you in the form of a text from Spencer.

Just landed!

Got news that all the roads are blocked off. Trains are closed, Morgan’s gonna drive me home, but it could still take at least an hour :(

There wasn’t even a moment to be excited about the first part before you swiped out of the messages app and angrily pulled up that listicle again. All the other suggestions were rubbish; you weren’t going to go exercise in a snowstorm, there wasn’t any fucking sunlight at past midnight, and you’d already drank tons of water.

There was one item on the list you hadn’t tried yet.

2. Take a Nap to Take the Edge Off Sleepiness

That was tempting. Spencer did say it would be another hour, and as he’s informed you many times before, a twenty-minute nap was all it took to get the optimal nap in.

You caved. But you made sure to set your phone alarm for twenty minutes out, and yet another after that just in case. Fluffing Spencer’s sofa cushions up, you tucked one under your head and laid down.

You woke up just moments before Spencer came home. He walked in to find you waiting for him, clad in the hottest red lingerie he’d ever laid eyes on. After weeks of being apart, he didn’t have the time for words. He dropped his bags at the door and wordlessly stormed over, bringing his hands to either side of your face and gripping you tightly as he covered your mouth with his own.

Your mouths worked furiously together, and his hands dropped low on your hips before throwing all caution to the wind and palming your ass. With both hands just below your ass, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to the wall and pinned you against it. Your pussy was leveled perfectly against his hard dick. He grinded himself against you, moaning at the sweet friction. His head was buried in your neck, sucking so deliciously.

“Spencer,” you moaned his name, low and rolling, as he shifted your panties aside. “Mmm, feels so good baby.”

He carefully set you down and dropped to his knees, putting his face between your legs instead. His tongue pressed along the length of your seam. You let your eyes close as you dropped your head back onto the wall.

“Fuck, Spencer!” you couldn’t stop moaning it. Every other breath became the sound of his name.

And then, you felt a kiss on your forehead. And a palm on your shoulder. Your eyes flickered open, fully and for real this time.

Next thing you knew, Spencer was kneeling on the floor. Not between your legs, but by your side while you were laid out on the couch, gently shaking you awake.

“Hi,” he smiled as you finally blinked your eyes awake. “Havin’ a good dream, I hope?”

You grumbled, disappointed both that it wasn’t real, and that you’d fallen asleep. “No, no, it wasn’t supposed to be like this!” you pouted, sitting up. “I was supposed to wake up and, and –”

“Be ready for me?” He quirked a brow as he surveyed the room.

There were dozens of blown-out candles under the open windows, carrying a cool evening breeze. An untouched plate of chocolate strawberries, and a less-untouched bottle of champagne. You, clad in something silky and red, that made you look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. And also, his chunky knit sweater.

“I tried, I promise. I did everything, I even read that book of yours,” you gestured to it on the coffee table, barely cracked open.

“Well, it’s no wonder you fell asleep then,” he laughed.

“I’m so sorry, Spence.”

He only shook his head and pushed your shoulders back down until you were lying on the couch again.

“Don’t apologize.” He pulled your knees closer to him, hooking the leg closest to him over his far shoulder and nestling himself inside. “To find my girlfriend waiting for me, in my home,” he stopped to kiss the inside of your knee, “in my sweater,” and then the other one, “and in this, too?”

Spencer pushed up the hem of the sweater, exposing the fancy lingerie you had under. His large hands rested on your sides as he dove in to kiss your belly, right above the mesh garter belt you wore. From there, he kissed a line all the way down, stopping before reaching your panties.

“Well, that’s all I could’ve asked for.” He gave you a smirk before hooking one finger into your panties and pulling them to the side. He dragged his tongue over you. “So, why don’t you tell me what that dream was about?”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds smut #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #blurb

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warmau · 3 years

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☆ko-fi au: nostoligic summer romance!au hanbin find other ikon aus here

the sun burns your shoulders and the skin of your heel. you stand on it and bear the pain as you look down at hanbin, whose face is covered by one of those three-dollar nude magazines

"get up"

"can't you see i am asleep?"

the wind blows some small wisps of hair around your face - somewhere in the distance, you hear junhoe chase a beachball down the shore as jiwon yells for him to race back to the rest of your friends

"hanbin, you are not wasting your summer spread out like this, not doing anything. you are not a piece of seaweed."

"you sound like my mother"

you nudge his elbow with your toe

"did you finish your graduate school application?"

"yeah, im working on it right now looking at -"

he lifts the magazine off his face and flips to a random page, turning it around to face you

averting your gaze you make a sound of disappointment

"the deadline already passed, the school is giving you an extension because they know you'll be a great addition to the program. does that not mean anything to you?"

hanbin lets the next gust of wind pull the magazine from his weak grip and float it pathetically to his left

the silence is his answer in a way and search his face, now that you can see it properly, for anything else

his dark eyes are void and highlighted by a shadow of darkness.

his lips are chapped.

the scratch he got from face planting in the public pool's changing room last weak is still sitting on his cheek only half-hidden under a kids bandage

"hanbin, this is your future"

you whisper it - like it's your future too

maybe because somewhere subconsciously buried in both your chests. you both know it is.

"i know"

you turn around and take his apathy as the final stake in the ground

after years of caring about him, of one-sided adoration hidden behind affectionate and worried friendship

you have learned the hanbin is more stubborn than an ox - especially when he gives up

when you find yourself walking home back alone - the sun still blasting an uncomfortable heat onto your skin - you try to pretend the overwhelming feeling of crying isn't itching its way out

i can't help him forever, especially if he doesn't want to help himself

hanbin calls three days later

"do you want to go fishing with me and jinhwan?"

"fishing?"

"jinhwan said he's trying new hobbies."

you are silent for a second, a part of you wants to explode.

what are you talking about fishing! the application asks you to finish an entire song. to show your effort! who gives a fuck about fishing!

the other part of you is dormant. uninterested.

jinhwan is already a successful editor, maybe he can help hanbin find the right path better than i can.

"no thanks."

you hang up first, something you've never done with hanbin

you're both balanced in that sense - you are usually soft and forgiving and never want to hurt anyone's feelings. you just want to keep helping and helping until there's nothing left of you.

hanbin is more strict - people have to prove themselves to him otherwise he cuts them off without a qualm.

you get a text a few minutes later from jinhwan:

are you and your husband fighting?

my husband? i didn't know i finally married that millionaire from my dreams.

haha im talking about hanbin

you purse your lips. everyone in the world wants 'us' to happen.

no. we're not fighting. he doesn't want to go to grad school.

so?

your fingers hover over the keyboard. right, so what? not like it's your business to run your friend's life.

but that's not it. something is so wrong. hanbin will work on music till his eyes and ears bleed. why is it that composing one little thing for this application that is just going to better his life so hard? why is he so against it?

leaving jinhwan without an answer, you throw yourself on your bed and tell yourself that you have to break this habit

you've been putting hanbin over yourself since you were both young

getting in trouble with him when in reality you'd done nothing but try to stop him from doing something stupid

staying up with him when he'd go through bouts of bad insomnia

shoving your own secrets and pain down to comfort him about his own

you have your own life, goal, and dreams

it's your fault for somehow always imagining that hanbin would want to be part of them

"can you please talk to hanbin again."

jiwon, junhoe, and donghyuk take up the space in your car as you pull into the parking lot of the local mall

you turn the key in the ignition, jiwon and junhoe are sitting far apart in the back seat, still managing to look cramped and donghyuk looks at you sympathetically from the passenger side

"im not avoiding him."

"you're totally avoiding him."

again. you want to explode and also say nothing at all. why are there expectations on you as his friend and not the other way around?

"have you guys asked him about his grad school application? you all have your futures planned - and he's lost."

jiwon pops his bubble gum at the worst possible moment and junhoe looks awkward without an answer to come out of his big mouth.

donhyuk puts a hand on your shoulder

"he didn't just give up, you know."

you snort, "it looked that way to me."

opening the door, you step out and tell the little voice in your head that wonders out loud if hanbin needs your help to please shut up

it's two days before the extension deadline. you know this because it pops up as a reminder on your google calendar and you grumble as you delete it.

having his deadlines on my schedule like he's my goddamn boyfriend or something.

you want to enjoy your summer before you go back to school too, so you dig out a big t-shirt and bathing suit to take to the pool

only when you sling the shirt over yourself do you pick at the worn fabric and groan

this is hanbin's isn't it? the coffee stain at the bottom is totally his signature.

someone knocks on the door of your room, half expecting a family member you open it without caution and nearly throw it shut when you see hanbin in the frame

the only thing that stops you from doing so is the look of utter desperation on his face

"hanbin? when is the last time you slept?"

he breaths through his nose and mumbles maybe three or four days ago

you pull him into your room and shut the door, you try to examine him for any other signs of fatigue but he looks otherwise the same

skinny, slightly hunched over and more beautiful than you could ever say out loud in fear of dying on the spot of embarrassment

"is it your insomnia? do you need to go to the doc-"

"i can't compose the song."

you wave your hand to dismiss the sentence, "that doesn't matter right now. you have to take care of your health first and-"

"i can't stop thinking about you."

suddenly irritated with his tone - you snap under the weight of it all

"you cannot blame your inability to finish this application or giving up or not sleeping on me. just because we haven't spoken in a bit-"

"that's not what i meant."

you cross your hands over your chest, you can feel a fire unlike any other of anger lick up your spine

if he is going to pin this on me somehow im going -

"i love you."

"are you crazy?"

you blurt out your words before you really even hear his own. you were expecting him to start spinning some elaborate tale about how not seeing you or you avoiding him had somehow damaged him further

but this is hanbin, and you admit that never has he put the blame on you without you taking it on willingly

so you blink past the initial shock and ask him to repeat himself

he straightens his bad posture, looks at you and sees past the surface level

"i love you. it's making everything else a blur, so i need to tell you."

"you- you should have told me before."

"i thought you'd slap me." he laughs weakly, but it is forced "or that you'd think i was lying to get you off my back about the application."

you soften, your hands uncross and you drop the defensive look on your face

hanbin runs a line from your eyes to your knees

"are you wearing my shirt?"

"i love you too."

the spell of dread that seems to have clung itself into every nook and cranny of hanbin's existence seems to be exorcised when you say those words to him

like a light has entered the part of him that has been pitch black for weeks now

he doesn't kiss you right after you say it, he kisses you two days later when he submits his application with a song he spent thirteen hours on creating

the song is about that light, the kind of easy feeling of being put into the right puzzle with the right person

that's when he kisses you - when he meets the deadline - and you throw your arms around him and the world starts rotating in the right direction again

summer is still left over for you two to enjoy, you rush around the beach with your friends, you go fishing with jinhwan who decides he hates it at some point, and you spend whatever minute you can with hanbin

even if you're with others, your hands are always glued together. you look at him when you think he's distracted. he looks at you regardless, unashamed of the teasing that comes your way

'it finally happened! they realized they're perfect for each other!'

and when you're alone with your legs tangled with his and hanbin's nervous, soft mouth on the slope of your back. that same uncapped love bursts from both of you.

when summer dwindles and hanbin gets an email about his application

he celebrates by pressing you up against the desk and nearly toppling his laptop over

"can i ask you something?" he plays with a strand of your hair after as the sweat sticks you two together "were you so adamant about me getting into grad school because you love me or-"

you rest your chin on his chest and sigh

"yes, but because it'll help you achieve your dreams. and it'll give you a future that's stable. a future that i want for you and-"

you get shy, tucking your face into his skin

"and?"

he asks, but you just kiss him instead.

when it's ten years after - and hanbin has become successful in ways he had never dreamed

you are successful in your own right too

you're equals and your lives are full of each other and your work and everything else

and hanbin realizes when he's looking at rings by himself after work one day what you wanted to say all that time ago

you wanted him to have a good future so that it could tie in with yours

he reminds himself to ask you when he gets home, by what age had you already planned the wedding?

he expects you will stick your tongue out at him when he does, and you do, but he doesn't expect you to cry for half an hour when he pulls the little box out of his pocket.

#nostalgia au #hanbin au #hanbin scenarios #b.i au #b.i scenarios #hanbin #b.i #ikon au #ikon imagines #ikon scenarios #ko fi commissions #slightly suggestive

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otp-holic · 3 years

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Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!

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thewhizzyhead · 3 years

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a non-filipino's guide to trese: ep 1

So some of my mutuals decided to check out Trese aka the Netflix adaptation of the Filipino horror comic book series that I keep rambling about here and then since well um most of my mutuals aren’t from the Philippines fshfs I decided to make a long-ass post that basically consists of me rambling about the cultural context present in Trese with fun little tidbits about Filipino folklore. I’m not an expert on Filipino mythology so um I just typed out the stuff that I know and the stuff that I looked up on Wikipedia so um take this with a grain of salt aaaaa I’ll save the extensive google scholar research ramble on folklore present in Trese for another day.

I’ll try to find the sites where I got some of the information from cause um yea I kinda had a bit of a hard time finding the other shit so um once again, take the stuff here with a grain of salt. Also, feel free to add more info if you guys got any!

SO ANYWAYS ENJOY ME RAMBLING ABOUT EPISODE 1 OF TRESE WOO

+ MRT and LRT (Manila Metro Rail Transit and Light Rail Transit) are train systems in NCR (the capital region) and yea them suddenly stopping and malfunctioning in the middle of the goddamn rail is a daily occurrence and we have been trying to deal with this bullshit for years but alas, corruption and negligence are sweet sweet drugs.

+ When the MRT broke down, you'd see a red bee in the flashing billboard right? Well that's Jollibee and that's probably the most well-known fast food restaurant chain here heck there are even branches of it abroad!

+ According to many youtube comments along with other social media posts that I am way too tired to link here, the opening theme is an Ifugao ethnic song called Balluha'd Bayyauhen but with modern accompaniments and I think the song is about a fruit called a balluha that the character in the song tries to it but cannot swallow. (someone please correct me if I’m wrong here fjkfs)

+ The first um monster that we see Alexandra interact with is the White Lady of Balete Drive. White Ladies or “Kaperosa” are a type of female ghosts typically dressed in ghostly white dresses or similar garments. According to legend, she died in a car accident while driving along Balete Drive (a two lane street formerly lined with Balete Trees which are said to be a home for spirits and mysterious creatures) in Quezon City while other accounts say she died waiting for the arrival of her lover; others also say that she was a teenage girl who was run over and killed by a taxi driver at night and then buried around a Balete tree while another variation of the tale claims that a student from the University of the Philippines was sexually assaulted and killed by a taxi driver nearby and so said ghost haunts the street in search of her murderer. There are many other variations but according to local rumor, the legend was fabricated by a reporter in 1953 in order to make an interesting story. What remains consistent in many variations is that apparently taxi drivers would be stopped by a beautiful lady asking for a ride and if one would look at the rear window, they would see that the white lady in question is bruised and drenched in blood.

+ There are a lot of mentions about "lakans" and stuff in reference to Alex and her father right? In precolonial times, the term is used to refer to the paramount ruler or the highest-ranking political authorities in Tagalog communities (so um NCR and some parts of Region 4). In Muslim communities, they are called sultans while communities with strong trade connecitons with Indonesia or Malaysia called them Rajah. Datu is umm the more generalized term though when it comes to discussing the leaders of the precolonial Filipinos.

+ So, Alex’s mom is a babaylan and back in the pre-colonial period, each barangay (which a native filipino term for a village or a district; said term is still used today to describe um divisions in municipalities like) had them and these are basically Philippine shamans and they specialized in communicating with the spirits of the dead. To my knowledge, the role of babaylan went to women and yea people assigned male at birth but then identified as female were also allowed to become babaylans and they would be treated with the same respect given to any woman back then (honestly I dunno much about lgbtq+ stuff back in the precolonial times but all I know is that precolonial Filipinos were much a lot more welcoming towards trans identities bUT THEN THE SPANIARDS CAME AND UM ERR RUINED THAT); also the writing Alexandra's mom did in that one scene with the dagger is in Baybayin - preHispanic Filipino script. I dunno what she wrote down though. .

+ Also I kinda find it funny that the people here esp those who were at the White Lady scene are um,,, not at all surprised? Like yea quite a number of filipinos have their own superstitions and beliefs and all that but um yea the people in Trese seem very used to the bullshit,,,which in retrospect, isn't at all inaccurate fsdfd I MEAN WE DEAL WITH UNSURMOUNTABLE AMOUNTS OF BS ON A DAILY BASIS SO I DON’T THINK DEAD GHOSTS WOULD EVEN FAZE MANY FSKJDS

+ The one that appears right before Alexandra talks with the duwende (the one in the manhole) is called Laman Lupa (which i guess translates to um "What is in the earth"? just um YEA THEY ARE DIRT CREATURES). normally this is an umbrella term for duwendes and nunos but in Trese they are servants of these aforementioned creatures.

+ Duwende (which came from the Spanish phrase "dueno de case" which means "owner of the house") or dwarves in Filipino folklore are known to be mischievous and magical environmental guardians. They are believed to reside in trees or under earth mounds (those that live in the latter are called nuno sa pundo or old man of the mount) which is why quite a lot of Filipinos say "tabi tabi po" or “excuse me” when wandering around a forest or earth mounds as a sign of respect and in the hopes the duwende won't torment them. If the person is friendly, the duwende can also be friendly in return and will bring that person good lucl; otherwise, those who destroy their homes by stepping on them will face their wrath in form of heartless curse and predictions of ominous and disastrous fates. A duwende's color also depends on their budhi or conscience: to my knowledge, white duwendes are kind, red ones give protection amulets, green ones are firnedly with children and the black ones give nothing but trouble.

+ Chocnut aka the snack Alex bribes the nuno with is a very yummy chocolate snack made of coconut milk, crushed peanuts and cocoa powder. They are umm about an inch in length and maybe half an inch in width so it's fairly small; that being said I WANT THE CHOCNUT THAT ALEXANDRA HAS CAUSE HOT DAMN THAT'S A BIG CHOCNUT

+ In Trese, the creatures in the MRT scene and in the warehouse Alexandra visits after she talks with the duwende are called "aswang". In Philippine folklore, it is an umbrella term for any kind of monster so um an aswang in Luzon would be very different from the aswang in Mindanao. According to what I saw on wikipedia, they can be classified in 5 categories: the vampire (self-explanatory um they drink blood), the viscera sucker (the manananggal, i'll get to that next time), the weredog (cats and pigs are also possible but um yea they target pregnant women), the witch (self-explanatory boom curses and stuff) and the ghoul (they gather near trees in cemeteries to feast on human corpses). Aswangs are often described to have a long, hollow tongue, sharp claws and sharp teeth, although they do also have human forms.

+ To my knowledge, Ibwa, the leader of the aswangs in the warehouse, is a creature from Tinguian or Itneg mythology (they, like the Ifugao, are an indigenous ethnic group in northwestern Luzon) though I could be wrong about this dksfsf Ibwa seems like an ethnic filipino term tho wah I can't remember where I once read that. But anyways, Ibwa often stalk sthe house of a dying person to steal its body. In order for the ibwa to NOT succeed in that, some people burn holes in the garments of the dead and put a sharp iron object on top of the grave since those are most powerful weapons against aswangs which is what Alexandra uses to subdue the Ibwa and kill all the other aswangs (the knife alex uses is named Sinag which means "ray of light".)

+ ALSO I AM SO SO GLAD THEY KEPT THE FILIPINO SWEARS IN THE ENGLISH DUB YES YES THIS IS A VERY GOOD JOB so lemme discuss the versatility of tangina-

+ Also umm Bossing is a nickname of Vic Sotto - one of the three pioneer hosts of Eat Bulaga! which is the longest running Philippine noontime variety show. Over time, most probably due to the show's popularity, the term "bossing" then became um slang for "boss" or "chief"

+ Translation of what Alex says when she's stirring the eye inside the cup: “In the eyes of others, secrets will reveal themselves.”

+ Sidenote: The English dub's pronunciation of many of the tagalog lines are um yea they r pretty good but they could use a bit of work but then again I'm really not that good in speaking in Tagalog so who am I to judge gkdkf sorry po guys conyo po ako-

+ Maria Makiling is arguably the most famous of all the diwatas (ancestral spirits, nature spirits, or deities) in Philippine Mythology; she is associated with Mount Makiling in Laguna as the guardian spirit of the mountain. Mount Makiling is said to resemble a profile of a woman and people associate the profile with Maria herself. She is also known as a goddess by the name of Dayang Masalanta and people would pray to her for safety and to stop storms and earthquakes. That's the goddess Alexandra's mother mentions right when she tells Alex to hide. (Translation to what she said there: Maria Makiling, goddess of the mountain, bless us.)

+ ALSO YEA THAT MAYOR IN THE MRT STATION IS UMMM RATHER REMINISCENT OF MAAAANY POLITICIANS AND PUBLIC SERVANTS HERE LIKE BELIEVE ME I CAN THINK OF SO MANY NAMES RN. THEY WOULD FLAUNT THEIR MACHISMO AND PROMISE THAT THEY THEMSELVES SHALL PUNISH THE PERPETRATORS HARSHLY BUT IN THE END THEY DONT MEAN SHIT AND ARE IN OFFICE TO SERVE ONLY THEMSELVES AND TO SHIT ON THE REST ESP THOSE OF THE POORER SECTORS AND *NOTHING IS DONE ABOUT IT*. WE LIVE IN HELL OKAY. also hmm how the police are represented here is umm,,,interesting,,, like i know there are sOME good police officers like the ones alexandra assists but like,,,our current sociopolitical climate + the many cases showcasing the corruption in the police force + tHE SHEER AMOUNT OF POLICE BRUTALITY HERE would ummm beg to differ. but um anyways-

+ Also Mang Inasal posters can be seen in the MRT station backdrops and um it’s a very famous restaurant chain here and they serve lots of barbecue and other filipino stuffs and i miss them a lot God their halo halo is very yummy

+ Santelmo - oki so this is the fire face thingy that Alexandra summons inside the ruined train. This is the shortened version of the term "Apoy ni Santa Elmo" or "St. Elmo's Fire" - this is a weather phenomenon wherein plasma is created from an electrical discharge from a rod like object in an atmospheric electric field. This phenomenon was used to warn of imminent lightning strikes or storms (there is a chapter in Noli Me Tangere where Pilosopo Tasyo talks about that bUT I'LL SAVE THE NOLI ME TANGERE RAMBLES FOR ANOTHER DAY). But according to Philippine folklore, santelmos - which are said to be souls of people lost as sea - are balls of fire that appear where accidents or big arguments happen. In Trese, santelmos (alex's santelmo being "The Great Spirit of the Binondo Fire") can be called to assist in supernatural investigations

+ Translation of what Alex says when she draws the circles to meet with the purple ghosts: "Souls, where are you off to? I'll be entering too, so please open the door."

+ Remember the scene at the train with all the purple ghosts and the woman in a veil? Yea the woman is an emissary of a goddess named Ibu and she is the Manobo (again, another indigenous ethnic group but this time they're from Mindanao; fun fact we have around 134 ethnic groups) goddess of deceased mortals and the queen of the underworld; she also serves as a psychopomp and guides the newly deceased souls to the other side (having an MRT be the ride to the underworld isn’t in the legends tho so fkkjsf)

+ The aswang in the top hat is called Xa Mul and according to the Isneg/Apayao people (yay another ethnic group but this time in northern Luzon - the Cordillera regions to be specific), they are an evil spirit known to swallow people whole.

+ Alex has two henchmen right? Yea they are named Crispin and Basillio and No I still don’t know who’s who and I'm really sorry about that fsfjs so anyways the names Crispin and Basillio are actually those of two brothers featured in the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo novels (Crispin is younger and Basilio is older) which are basically the national novels here cause um yea written by national hero Jose Rizal as sociopolitical commentary about the Spanish regime here. I don't know if I want to spoil this cause I kinda want other people to read the novel too fskfs BUT ALL IN ALL, ONE OF THEM DIES IN LIKE THE 10TH OR 11TH CHAPTER OF NOLI ME TANGERE (and the novel has 64 chapters btw) AND UM YEA-

+ OKI SO TO ADD MORE CONTEXT TO THE SQUATTER STUFFS MENTIONED IN TRESE (we r gonna use the tiny font here because holy shit this rant is long): So,in the Philippines, especially in the capital region, there are lots of slum areas called squatters. These are dense urban settlements made of compact makeshift housing units that aren't really officially recognized by the government. This is um very reflective of the poverty situation here and there are maaany factors that come into play here and if i were to go into depth about this topic, that rant would probably turn into an academic paper so for the sake of brevity, let's just say that Things Are Fucked Up Here. Oftentimes the poorer sectors are being ignored and left to their own devices despite tons of campaign promises to make things better and easier for them. The communities that live here are incredibly vulnerable to floods, fires, and the like and afaik no concrete solutions have been in effect to protect these people and their settlements. There have also been many times where squatter areas are dismantled or demolished despite protests of people living in those areas and yea I understand the need to make space and the need for renovation but the people should still be offered some sort of temporary settlement or financial compensation thingy that doESN'T fuck them over but alas, we have an anti-poor government. That being said, I really like Trese Ep 1's portrayal of governmental negligence, but I also have some thoughts, especially in regards to the mayor being arrested THAT FAST which um believe me, NEVER FUCKING HAPPENS BECAUSE MANY MAYORS AND A LOT OF POLITICIANS HAVE THE POLICE IN THEIR POCKETS SO UM ERR YEA JUSTICE IS RARELY A THING HERE BUT UM ANYWAYS YEA THE GOVERNMENT LIKES TO SHIT ON THE POOR WOO LET'S SAVE THE USE OF SOCIOLOGICAL LENS ON THIS MATTER FOR ANOTHER DAY

+ The news channel reporting the arrest of the mayor is ABC-ZNN WHICH IS AN OBVIOUS REFERENCE TO ABSCBN aka the top media conglomerate here (that has been fucked over by the government so many times to the point that they had to shut down operations last year which is all sorts of unfair so seeing them being referenced here kinda made me happy gksfks)

#HI PATROC I HAVE A GIFT #IT'S A VERY LONG AND CONVOLUTED GIFT #BUT IT'S A GIFT #I WISH YOU THE BEST OF LUCK IN TRYING TO UNDERSTAND THIS #this is literally 2813 words long AND IT TOOK ME 12 HOURS TO TYPE THIS OUT OH GOD #AND THIS IS JUST EP 1 #here's to hoping the following eps are gonna be much easier for me to like ramble about considering that i explained quite a lot here gfsfs #please do take this ramble with a grain of salt tho cause obviously I am not a mythology expert so um feel free to add more info!#i'd really love to see more info about trese so yay!#trese #trese netflix #alexandra trese #trese spoilers #ask to tag

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incarnateirony · 2 years

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Love Patrick manipulating/rephrasing posts to try to look like he's right or has anything on me but won't pull a single damn receipt because he knows goddamn well that's not what any of it actually says, but go off buddy. Whatever makes you feel better about only knowing the friend of a coworker's ex inlaw's cousin's homeless guy that sleeps in their garage in LA as your sources.

The closest thing to a fact in there is "Jared will retire" as a "claim", from... about 2 years before the show ended, before he had Walker, and from Jared's own words but whatever soothes his fragile little sad boy ego to feel better.

Really goes to show you how long he's been obsessed with me if he's ragging on about S13 posts though. Dude. If you're gonna suck my dick that hard at least doordash me some dinner.

Particular lmao at "other companies while in a holding contract"

WITH THE SAME PARENT COMPANY YOU MEDIA ILLITERATE BARE ASSED BABBOON. ARE YOU SO INEPT YOU CAN'T TRACK PARENT COMPANY OWNERSHIP AND PARTNERSHIP AGREEMENTS?

The only things outside of WB's holding they released over the period thereof is stuff they were already cast in before signing it WHAT DOES THE FUCKING CLOD THINK A HOLDING CONTRACT *IS*?? HOLDING HIS HANDS??? CUPPING HIS BALLS GENTLY???? "Min clearly doesn't know what a holding contract is," Patrick says, "allow me to explain all the reasons a holding contract doesn't hold people. Actually, I have no reasons, just that I can't track media ownership--companies OR production timelines and development--worth a shit."

Watch, this dumb motherfucker's processing power is so simple he's gonna point at 10 inch hero like it wasn't already actively filming by July 2006 with about 2 years in development before that, casting included. Spoiler alert: Jensen landed both castings at about the same time. And do we need to get into Jared's terrible christmas movie in 2006--

Gonna put 10 dollars paper money on Patrick being too incompetent to realize the "non-CBS project" is with a fucking cbs studio/affiliate/child company. Or with an independent representation firm, similar to Pursued By A Bear or Stick to Your Guns, and still gonna end up on a CBS distribution property. Or, something that it would be considered noncompetition in, such as if it wasn't an acting role or credit on his part but some other development, depending on the specific limits of his talent holding deal with CBS. It's literally only capable of being one of those three. Guys. That's why it's called holding contracts. I cannot emphasize this enough.

Unless Mr "can't keep his mouth shut past optioning phase" on stage spoilers mcgee managed to keep something quiet he signed before taking on Walker, holding contracts are what they are. They're. They're called holding contracts for a reason. It's. It's right there in the name. It's. It's on the tin. It's. Bro. a google search could answer this for you bro. dude. pls. wot. r u ok man. man. it. It's right. It's right on the tin.

this level of stupidity broke me. surely his followers must know that is in hot competition for the dumbest shit to tumble out of his blog. they have to. I refuse to believe any sizeable group of people are as dumb as he is on this.

offtopic but while we're at it, Jared changed PR firms. Again. Take out of that what you will.

PATRICK. The reason why your opinion is ALWAYS a bad opinion is because you are out ONLY to disagree with me for the sake of disagreeing, not look at the facts that even a TODDLER could understand. GGNORM

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weirdmageddon · 3 years

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good lord what a fucking stressful day

driving up to class there was a truck in front of me for like ten straight minutes that was going 19 mph on a 35 mph road and there was a car behind me and i could just feel his pain too. it was taking all my mental effort to not blare my horn. soon as that fucking truck turned onto another road i pressed down so fucking hard on the gas pedal to get across the message to the cars behind me that i was pissed off we had to go that slow and that it was not my decision like sort of an apology to them like “you saw that fucking guy?? im not gonna keep putting you through that”

then when i got out of class i drove to the bookstore and was told i have no funds in my account to buy books and that i need to go to financial aid office. then i got anxious because nobody there knew where it was (i dont live on-campus so idk either) and i couldnt find any answers online because the map wasnt loading.

so then i looked at one of those “you are here” maps around campus and saw that financial aid was on the other side of route 41/tamiami trail (left side of campus). so i waited at that stupid light for 5 minutes and once i got to the other side i had to find a place to park which was annoying, and i still couldnt find the stupid office. i asked inside the first building i saw and the lady said it was across the road (pointing to the OTHER road, not route 41) so i walked over there. didnt look like the financial office but i checked anyway and it was locked, (and it wasnt the financial aid office). btw i’m in florida if it’s not obvious by “tamiami trail” and i have a heat intolerance (im 99.99% certain i have POTS, all i need is an official diagnosis but i havent had the appointment yet) and i started getting really fatigued and i was sweating my ass off and couldnt think straight and i felt that i was starting to get teary.

so im trying to find this stupid office in this oppressive heat. with a heat intolerance. and wearing a mask which made it feel a lot harder to get in air. i tried to ask this random kid but i broke down in front of him because i couldnt hold my shit together over something so minor as being unable to find this fucking office and i bet he thought i was insane or mentally unstable and i realized this so i was apologizing to him. when i inhaled it was so loud they were like gasps and i couldnt do anything about it and it made me so embarrassed...like the kinda gasps people do after running for their life. not quite hyperventilation because it wasnt fast but whenever i took in air it was like a sharp wheeze 😭 like my throat was so tight the air getting squeezed through it made a loud noise

so idk i think i maybe had a panic attack outside because i couldnt find this motherfucking financial aid office in this 90°F 70% humidity weather where it feels like 104°F so i could barely breathe to begin with and no one had given me good directions. then i involuntarily began holding my breath because it was embarrassing to be making loud sobbing gasps while walking.. which made it even harder to breathe but at least i wasnt drawing attention to myself.

i walked over to the student recreation center to get into the air conditioning and get some water. i sat down and i noticed i was STILL involuntarily holding my breath. they’re not breath-holding spells like babies do, like i dont do it until i get blue in the face but it’s sort of an automatic response as though to not make any noise? but it’s really involuntary it kinda becomes my default mode of breathing instead of normal respiration (anyone else do this when crying btw?? i tried looking it up but all i got was breath-holding spells in babies)

so taking few minutes while trying to calm down i took my phone out and searched for the financial aid center’s location on google and i still got nothing descriptive. i asked a more students around if they know where it is, one said he didnt know, and i was about to leave but near the exit there were like 4 students playing billiards and i asked them if they knew where it was. and i think one of the kids knew me from middle or high school because he remembered me and looked sort of familiar and said “sara are you okay” and i broke Again and i felt absolutely pathetic, but they ended up actually helping me this time find it and were really nice. turns out it WAS on the online campus map the whole time but i overlooked it because it was labeled “Palmer D / Financial Aid” and my tunnel vision ass just did not even recognize it because i was looking at the first letters going down the key list. and i felt so stupid. all of that for nothing. i couldve just stayed parked where i was for class earlier on the other side of tamiami trail. then i trudged back through the heat to my car and thats when i turned from feeling lost and panicky into frustrated and irritable because i KNEW where i needed to go but it felt like everything around me was so goddamn slow. i had to wait at that light for the full 5 minutes again because it turned from green to yellow just as i was driving up to it.

once it was green, i pulled back into that parking lot i was in at the beginning of the day and walked into the financial aid office and actually got something accomplished. i filled out a form (that they never made clear last year due to covid 🙄) which makes my bookstore funds automatically deposited and i helped walk a freshman who came in through the exact same steps after i finished mine. so that made me feel a little better.

at this point i was so full of adrenaline and cortisol and i acutely noticed how fucking DISGUSTING it was outside, the air was so muggy and it was overcast and like 90°F just an absolute swamp ass jungle. and i got back into my car and waited at that fucking tamiami light AGAIN and some stupid lady was like one whole ass car space behind the light so i couldnt turn into the right lane until it turned green and i was sittingthere for 5 mins just WAITING for this idiot to pull forward. then i waited at ANOTHER 5 minute light immediately after that before being able to actually drive home. just so many minor inconveniences all throughout my day that made everything feel so much worse.

i’ve been home for 4 hours at this point, i already showered but my body still feels like it’s full of stress hormones. my body is actually still has very minute tremors from all the stress. great start to the semester already.

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transxfiles · 3 years

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Velma Dinkley can't believe she actually let Daphne Blake talk her into taking a ride in Fred Jone's ancient, rust-bucket, completely trashed hippie van. The windows are all hand-crank, and the one in the front passenger seat is stuck, always cracked half-open; not that she's complaining, though - something definitely died in here, if the van's smell is anything to go by. Sure, Fred has those little cardboard air fresheners crammed and hung in every spare nook and cranny, but all those do is make the place smell like a Bath And Bodyworks that's been abandoned for a couple hundred years. The pleather on the seats hasn't been reupholstered in ages, not since pleather's been invented, anyway. And Velma can feel every single bump in the road beneath her feet as Fred drives them out of town, and very briefly, she wonders if the van even has shocks, anymore. But then, there's a large BOUNCE and Velma finds herself thrown across the front seat, sprawled in Daphne's lap, and as she pushes herself back up into a seated position, she's just grateful she actually got a seat.

"How're you guys doing back there?" She calls behind her to Shaggy and Scooby.

"Like, we're hanging in there Velm," Shaggy says, bracing himself between a wall and what looks like a broken ladder, still bouncing up-and-down along with the bumps in the road. Scoob cowers beside him, clearly upset about the whole endeavor, but as soon as Shaggy pulls a tupperware of Scooby Snax from his bag, the dog perks up. "And thanks for letting us take some snacks on the road!" Shaggy giggles.

Velma nods, pulling a map from her backpack and handing it to Daphne. "I can't believe we're doing this on a school night," Velma mutters. She watches as Daphne gently unfolds the map, running manicured hands over the creases, straightening it out.

"Oh come on," Daphne says, "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Stuck somewhere between my upcoming English paper and tomorrow's math test," she says, shaking her head. "I've circled our stops in red," Velma tells her, pushing her glasses up on her nose as she talks. "If everything goes to plan, we'll only need to stop at two of them. Here," she points, "and here," she moves her finger to the second location as the van hits another pothole, and the engine gives a sort of strangled shout as Fred shifts into second gear.

Velma turns around just in time to see the entire back part of the van completely shift again, and then she can't even see Shaggy or Scooby at all. The ladder's completely fallen to the ground, now, and so has what looks like an oil painting and a travel-sized gymnastics bar. There's so much stuff crammed back there she can't even see the floor, much less her cousin and his dog. She's concerned until Shaggy pops his head up out of a pile of empty chewing gum wrappers and old parking tickets, and says "What sort of van is this, anyway?"

Daphne shouts "YOU MISSED YOUR TURN" and Fred slams on the breaks and jerks the steering wheel back hard. "Honestly, I don't really know," he says to Shaggy. "Pulled it from the junkyard earlier this year, right when I got my license. It was cheap as hell because all the maker's marks were pulled off."

The van gives another sputter beneath their feet, and Velma mutters, "I don't think that's the only reason it was in the sale bin."

"What I'm saying is that I've got no idea what this van's supposed to be." Fred puts his feet back on the gas and the clutch, moves the stick shift up a notch. "Did some Google searches, borrowed a few library books on a history of motor vehicles in America. Nothing."

"Another goddamn mystery," mutters Velma.

Daphne grins. "More like a mystery machine.”

Fred slams on the breaks again, and Velma has to take a deep breath, count to ten. Stop herself from screaming at this boy and ending this investigation before it even starts. "Excuse me," she says, gritting her teeth as she turns to look at the driver. "Could you please. Drive normal. For just ten minutes.”

"Hey now, you can't all blame me!" Fred says, and he takes his hands of the steering wheel for emphasis. "If you just told me where we're going, this'd be a helluva lot easier."

"Yeah, uh, Velm?" Shaggy calls from the backseat, where it looks like he and Scooby have safely emerged from the debris and are now... playing chess? "Where are we going, exactly?"

Velma sighs. She tells herself this is why she works alone, why she keeps her cases to herself, why she doesn't have friends and doesn't have girlfriends and certainly why she doesn't let them come over to her crime scenes, much less her house. People always ask questions, always get in the way. They're crappy drivers or they don't see things as quickly as she does. They hit every pothole in the rode and miss every goddamn turn. And sure, sometimes they have bright red hair and a killer smile and a beautiful laugh and they're clever and quick and talented... but that doesn’t mean she owes them a thing. Even if they think she's incredible, and say it just as much. Even if they give her motorcycle rides, and drink crap tea, and always know how to make her smile...

Snap out of it. She's probably straight, anyway.

"We're going to see the last person known to have talked to the late Mr. Jameson," Velma says. "Amanda Nickleby, of Nickleby Law Firm. Walter Jameson’s lawyer."

From there, the questions slowly die down, and Velma finally gets some time to herself. She sits back and watches the road through the passenger window, and Fred pops in an old Hex Girls CD, from when they were just starting off playing local shows in good old Coolsville, and Velma thinks offhandedly to herself He probably only listens to them because they're hot. Doubt he appreciates the music - even if he does sing along to the entirety of I'm A Hex Girl. She hears Shaggy shout "Hex Girls? Right on!" from the back of the van, and then Daphne's resting her head on Velma's shoulder, and Velma doesn't even have the time to think, anymore, because Daphne's resting her head on her shoulder and she knows that doesn't mean something but, God, what if it does?

"We're here!" Fred announces, and the van comes to a jarring stop, resulting in several loud crashing noises from the back and a muffled "Ouch" from Shaggy.

"You have got to get the back cleared out, Fred," Daphne says.

Fred puts the car in park and Velma realizes that they're in a small parking lot outside a short, stocky office building proudly labeled "Owens Family Complex" with what she assumes must be a listing of various different business and non-profits that find their home here. Carefully, she gathers up her things (she refuses to leave her bag in Fred Jones's van) and eases the door open, scared it'll break if she moves it the wrong way. As soon as she's out, she gives Daphne a hand down, too. Daphne dusts her bright purple skirt off and smoothes it out, even there's nothing wrong with it at all.

"Like, what about us?" Shaggy says, still inside the van.

"Coming to getcha, don't worry!" Fred's smile is so bright it's infuriating. He walks around to the back of the van and opens the back doors, swinging the open wide. Miraculously, nothing falls out - not even the chessboard. "You need help getting out?" He asks. "I know it can be a bumpy ride, 'specially from back there."

"I think we got it," Shaggy says. "But thanks."

Scooby leaps proudly into the air, paws light on the pavement as he sticks the landing perfectly.

"Everyone safe?" Asks Daphne, and the others nod. "No broken bones, and no one needs to use the bathroom?"

"Nope."

"No."

"Ruh-ruh." Scooby barks.

Velma just shakes her head.

"Sounds good to me," Daphne says, throwing her arm over Velma's shoulders. "Velma?"

"Daphne?"

"Lead the way."

Daphne hopes she wasn't being too forward in the car. It's just that she knew it was going to be a long ride, and Fred's van, no matter what he says, is sort of a train wreck, and she wanted someone to hold on to, and Velma didn't seem to mind too much, did she? She certainly doesn't seem to mind Daphne's arm around her shoulders now, even if she has to step away from her to take a picture of the directory outside of the building. She almost seems reluctant to lose that contact.

Or maybe Daphne's just reading too much into this. She's probably reading too much into this.

They all push through the small glass doors with ease, Velma leading the way. She's double-checking the room and floor number of Nickleby Law Firm on her phone every few seconds, as if scared of leading them astray. Daphne can understand why - even with the bright natural lighting and the signage up everywhere, this place is a maze. The abstract paintings on the walls are all different, but they're all clearly done in the same style by the same artist. Every few steps, there's another restroom, or another janitor's closet. The tiled floor under her feet changes patterns a few times, but the colors always stay the same, and she hates that she can her the clack of her heeled boots with every step, right alongside... the sound of a dog's paws trotting happily along right beside her. For the first time, she realizes they've brought Scooby in with them - despite the notices tacked up everywhere that say "Pets and animals of any kind prohibited."

"Hey, Shaggy?" She says, "I'm not sure if dogs are allowed in here."

"Oh, like, you don't need to worry about that man." He says, giving Scoob a pat on the head. "Scooby-Doo's not a dog."

"Wha-?"

"Well," Shaggy says, cutting her off without realizing it, already lost in thought. "I guess it's not that he's not a dog. But he's not quite like other dogs, right? I mean, no one in here's got anything to say about it." He gestures to the people coming and going all around them, professionals and clients alike. "I mean, if anyone asks, I can go chill with Scoob in you're friend's van again. But, like, no one's said anything yet. And Scoob'll behave himself, right Scoob?"

The dog nods persistently. Daphne's starting to think she might be seeing things.

"This is it," Velma says, stopping in front of a door simply labeled Nickleby Law.

"Do we just... go in?" Fred asks.

Velma nods, and walks through the door, holding it open for the rest of them to come in as they please.

The first thing Daphne notices is that the office is nice. Maybe not Blake nice, but at least on her butler's level. There's IKEA furniture sitting around so new and freshly assembled she can smell the wood dust and plastic, and the far side of the room is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the parking lot, and the floor in here is done in stunning mosaics that she has to admit are a masterpiece on their own. She knows this kind of nice - it's what comes from an incredibly wealthy person funding a business they enjoy.

Or maybe a lawyer taking money from a dead man's wallet.

The second thing Daphne notices is the stunning woman sitting behind a desk at the back of the room, wearing a smart-looking suit and the best winged eyeliner Daphne’s seen outside of her cousin Danica’s modeling gigs. And with the way Velma trots over to this woman with a small, rare grin on her face, Daphne doesn’t even notice her hands start to ball into angry fists at her side until Fred whispers, “Hey, uh, you okay Daph?” and Daphne reminds herself that she has no right to get frustrated over something like this, she and Velma aren’t even dating, and Daphne’s not jealous, Blakes aren’t jealous. People are jealous of them.

"This is... a really nice new office," Velma says, shaking the woman's hand, clearly trying desperately to be anything but awkward. "I thought you were joking when you said you'd switch locations. And then we had to do an hour-long drive to get to you."

"I know it’s a bit much, but I’m just thankful Creationex Corp was willing to fund my small firm. Charities don't really get picked up by big businesses too often. We're some of the lucky ones."

"It doesn't hurt that you're good at what you do. Thank you so much for meeting with me again, Amanda." Velma says, taking a seat on the arm of one of the room's many plush sofas.

"Any time, Dinkley. I see you've brought backup with you? That's a first."

"You two know each other?" Daphne asks, voice a bit bitter. Or jealous.

"Velma helped my younger sister, Tina, and our late father, Mister Winslow Nickleby, find a jewel that someone stole from his family and hid in the most bizarre location. It's actually what got me into law - solving mysteries, working for good-"

"Until you're forced to defend murderers in court," Daphne mutters, and yup, her voice is definitely jealous right now, and she couldn't care less.

"Don't mind her," Fred says, ever the diplomat. “It was a long drive."

“Of course,” the woman smiles at them, and Daphne swears that grin is a bit too shark-like to be kind. “Please, sit down. My name is Amanda Nickleby, though I must assume Ms. Dinkley’s already told you as much.”

Shaggy takes a seat on the tiled floor beside where Scoob’s decided to take a nap, and Fred takes Daphne gently by the arm and they sit down together on the couch beside Velma. Daphne takes a deep breath. This is crucial to the investigation, and even if it wasn’t. She’s being unfair to Amanda and Velma both by acting this way. So she keeps her goddamn mouth shut and just listens.

“Amanda,” Velma says, voice professional and focused. “My… colleagues and I are working on a case concerning a client of yours. Mister Walter Jameson.

She nods. ‘“Would you mind describing the case to me?"

Velma pulls that clunky communal laptop out of her bag and flicks through a blue folder labeled CASE FILES, opening the one called Jameson House Haunting. “It’s a matter of his missing will, but it runs a bit deeper than that. Shortly after Mister Jameson’s death, as the dispute around the whereabouts of his final will and testament came to light, it was rumored that a ghost or spirit of some sort had begun to haunt his home.” Velma clicks on a file and Daphne watches as the picture she and Velma captured on their first visit to the Jameson house appears on screen. It’s blurry and dark and difficult to see, but there’s clearly a figure standing in front of them. “Upon investigating the house, Miss Blake and I managed to get this photograph of the figure in the home. Although it’s hard to make out whether this apparition is real or not, we have reason to believe that a living person - not a ghost - is using the guise of the late Mister Jameson to rifle through his house, with the hopes to find the will for their own purposes. However, until we have processed the photo so that it’s cleaner and we can see who the possible perpetrator is, and until we have more concrete evidence outside of our single picture, we cannot continue this case.” Velma closes the open windows and shuts the computer. “In short, we need your help. You were the last person known to have spoken with Mister Jameson before his passing.”

Amanda sighs. “I’ll be right back.”

She leaves the room and returns shortly with a briefcase and a manilla folder.

“I knew Walter Jameson for the last three years of his life,” Amanda says, opening up the small, leather briefcase and rifling through the documents inside. “He was a very private man, and a hasty post-mortem planner. He didn’t seem to see the point in planning for after he was gone. I get a few clients like that, every now and then - they’re a bit of a type. Older people who’ve waited so long to get their affairs in order because they’ve no children or family, or even friends to pass their possessions on to." She stops for a moment to look at a document, scanning the page, before slipping it back into the briefcase. "He met with me every now and then to discuss the legal process of it all - the mechanics of the will, how to write non-blood relations into it, how to write blood relations out of it, how everything would be interpreted from a legal standpoint. But when it came to actually writing the will, I never got a good look. He tried to keep it to himself as much as possible. And as for the whereabouts of the will, well, he never even shared that with me.”

Daphne can’t help but say something, now. This woman’s getting more and more suspicious by the minute. “I’m sorry,” she says, trying to sound polite. “But is that even… well, allowed?”

“It’s completely legal, especially in this day and age,” Amanda explains. “It’s not necessarily advised - in my opinion, it’s almost always best to have a lawyer with you when you write your final will and testament, if you want all your affairs in order. But now, with the Internet making everything so accessible, I’ve known a fair number of people who’ve written their wills with barely any assistance from lawyers.” She pauses, clearly thinking. “Though Mister Jameson is the first client I’ve ever personally dealt with who never even let me see their will.”

“So you have no idea of its possible whereabouts?” Velma asks.

“Well, not exactly. I think I can somewhat help you narrow it down.” She pulls a plastic bag of documents from the briefcase. “Mister Jameson wasn’t the most modern man. He owned a computer but seldom used it. We can assume he didn’t keep any copy of the will digitally, and only used the Internet for research reasons. The will is most likely located somewhere in his residence, possibly hidden.”

“Hidden?” Fred says.

Amanda nods. “Mister Jameson was an incredibly paranoid and secretive man. It’s likely he didn’t want me to assist him in the will-writing process because he was scared of me learning things he planned to keep secret until his passing. So it’s possible the will is hidden, which would explain why it has yet to be read.” She hands Velma the plastic bag. “The second thing I can tell you is that Mister Jameson was known to visit this individual. I don’t know her name, but she occasionally accompanied him in his visits here. The photographs in this bag are pictures taken from security camera footage, things we analyzed after Mister Jameson’s passing in the hopes we might be able to find someone he’s related to and finally get his affairs in order.”

“No luck?"

“Not really. We’re lawyers, not detectives. We tried to hire one but it was considered an inappropriate use of our funding.”

“What else is in here?” Velma asks, holding the bag up to the light but never actually opening it. She wouldn’t want to contaminate possible evidence.

“Just a variety of things Mister Jameson left here. Receipts, take-out menus. Not sure how much of it will actually be of use to you, but if there’s anyone who can figure it out, I know it’s you, Velma.”

“And what’s in the folder?” Asks Fred.

“Right. This.” Amanda says, as if she’d forgotten the folder for a moment. “It’s a collection of files on all cases and legal issues I covered with and for Mister Jameson. Again, not sure how much it’ll help you. But it’s a start.”

Velma nods, accepting the folder when Amanda hands it to her. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this is going to help our case.”

“Any time, Velma.”

“We can’t rule her out as a suspect,” Daphne exclaims as soon as they leave the building. “I mean, did you hear her in there? She was practically screaming guilt. I don’t trust that whole ‘he wrote his own will’ story.” She looks up from her rant and finds that everyone else has frozen in place and is staring at her blankly. Fred lets out a dry cough from where he stands, closest to the parking lot. “What?”

“Well jinkies Daphne,” Velma says. “Uh. Sure, we can write name down as a suspect if it really means that much to you. But it’s a little early in this case to be pointing fingers, and…”

Velma goes on to explain how while it’s important to keep an open mind about possible suspects, it’s also important to not start narrowing things too early on in the investigation and then something something personal biases and now Fred’s make a face at Daphne from the parking lot, something that says Dude you just messed up big time please change the subject if you want this to work out, so Daphne waits until Velma’s done talking and says:

“Well you know who it could be…”

“Don’t!” Fred says, hands on his hips.

“But Fred, come on-“

“Nope! You know the rules, Daph, don’t even say his name in front of me!”

“Who?” Shaggy whispers. Scooby looks up at him and Daphne can swear the dog actually shrugs.

Fred walks away in protest, shoving his fingers into his ears and loudly singing “La la la la la la la…” as he struts over towards the van.

“Red,” Daphne says. “Red Herring. Y’know, the one who goes to our school?”

“Oh yeah.” Shaggy’s makes a face at the thought of him. “That dude’s a total dick.”

“He and Fred have this weird rivalry,” Daphne explains. “Fred always thinks he’s up to something.”

“HE’S A TROUBLE MAKER!” Fred shouts, now behind the wheel of the van. “He’s always sticking his nose in other peoples’ business, he’s annoyingly heterosexual, and I worked on group project with him once and he said that my interpretation of Frankenstein was overwhelmingly radical. Can you believe that? I mean, what does that even mean? Overwhelmingly radical…”

“Well, you did mention that you thought it was a queer metaphor.”

“BECAUSE IT IS.”

Velma sighs, clearly ignoring the conversation entirely. "While I'd love to sit and talk," she says, looking pointedly at the rest of them, "I think it's about time we took a trip to our second destination of the day. Don't you?"

The others nod, and Fred helps Shaggy and Scooby into the back of the van again. Scooby jumps right in and starts swimming in it, like the piles of junk are a pool of water. Shaggy follows close behind, and Fred's laughing as he closes the doors behind them. Then, he walks over to Daphne and Velma.

"Need a hand getting up?"

"We're fine," Velma says, voice short.

She helps Daphne into the middle seat, slipping back into shotgun. She pulls the map back out of her backpack and hands it to Daphne, and then opens her computer, plugging a portable charger into the charging port, not willing to lose power while the laptop's still working hard on processing that one grainy photo.

The ride back into town somehow feels hours longer than the first leg of their journey. Maybe it's because Daphne's fallen asleep on Velma's shoulder this time, and Velma's spending all her remaining energy to keep from messing this up. Or maybe it's because Fred's just put in a Simple Plan CD and now he, Shaggy, and Scooby are singing along to I'd Do Anything at the top of their lungs. Velma winces as Fred takes his hands off the steering wheel to do air guitar and drums as the song approaches its final refrain. Does this man ever keep his eyes on the road?

"Oh shit!" Fred shouts, and somehow that's what it takes to wake Daphne from her nap.

"What is it?" She asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Needs gas," Fred says. He makes a hard right, and Velma holds onto the seat for dear life, she swears they were completely off the ground this time, and Fred slams his foot down on the gas again, sprinting the van to the first Shell he sees.

"Gas station Scoob!" Shaggy yells from the back, pulling the dog into a hug that Scooby doesn't seem to mind at all. Hell, Velma can almost hear the mutt bark “Reah, ras station!” back at his buddy.

Fred shifts gears and puts the van in park, and the entire vehicle groans beneath them, but somehow it manages to avoid complete collapse.

"You guys want to go in and get snacks?" Daphne asks, looking from Shaggy and Scooby over to Fred. "Pass me the keys and I can fill her up, Fred. You know I would never hurt the van."

He looks reluctant, but eventually nods, handing Daphne the keys. He knows Daphne - they've been best friends for years, now. They've braved exams together, faced endless dances. She'll listen to him ramble about the mechanics of Rube Goldberg machines for hours on end, and in turn he listens to her talk about psychology and dinosaurs, and whatever else is on her mind. He taught her how to tie a necktie, and she lent him nail polish because she always had extra. She's the first person he ever came out to, and she's kept his secret for him.

"You ready Shaggy?" Fred asks, slipping out of the driver's seat. "And, uh, Scoob?"

Shaggy nods, and Scoob barks out a "Yessir!" and Fred's heard rumors about how that Roger kid's dog is weird, but he never expected them to be true.

A bell jingles somewhere behind them as they walk into the gas station store. "What's the plan?" Asks Fred, approaching the chips aisle. "Sodas, candy, chips...?" He looks to his left to see Shaggy's already completely cleared an entire shelf of snacks, Scooby right behind him, and is currently approaching the discount movie rack.

"Like, I say we just grab whatever looks best and, uh, don't really narrow it down from there?" Shaggy shrugs. "Knock yourself out. Gas station ice cream's always good, might be worth a look." He scans the movie rack, crouching down to look at titles like Scream, Scream! Time for You to Die, and The Curse of the Demon Chest. Fred leans down beside him.

"You like horror movies?"

Shaggy nods. "Five dollar horror movies are always great. But Vincent Van Ghoul hour on Sundays is the best."

"Oh, on broadcast?" Fred vaguely remembers seeing something like that when he was flipping the channels one late Sunday night. "Good stuff."

They shop in silence for a moment. Sometimes Shaggy picks up a B-grade horror flick, reading the summary and then putting it back. Fred doesn't touch anything. Just watches. Eventually, Shaggy stands, and returns to shopping the snack rack.

"Do you have any idea where we're going next?" Fred asks, desperate to keep a conversation going. "Velma hasn't told me anything. I'm not sure she likes me too much."

"Don't worry about her. She's sorta like that with everyone. And, uh, we're heading to the Jameson place after this. Y'know. That's why I'm here."

Fred's eyes widen. "Oh- she wants you to- um, do your... ghost thing?"

Shaggy gives him a look, and it's clear that he's tired of this sort of thing. That it happens often.

"Listen, man," Shaggy says, "It's okay. I get it. I'm used to people not believing me." He sighs, giving Scoob a pat on the head. "People don't believe that I can be nonbinary and still use he/him pronouns. People don't believe I can be a stoner and still, like, have feelings." He doesn't go on his rant about how people seem so constantly intent on treating addicts as subhuman, but he's tempted to. "People don't believe I can be smart because I've been held back so much in school, people don't believe I can have a dog as my best friend and still be sane, people don't believe I can see ghosts because," he brings his hands up to do air quotes, “ghosts aren't real." He shakes his head. Grabs another snack from the crappy gas station shelf, tucks it under his arm. "If you're not gonna believe me, that’s just groovy. Right and fine by me. But I'd prefer you outright say it than mutter about it behind my back."

"Shaggy," Fred says, trying so hard not to mess things up again. How does he always mess things up so badly? "I don't think any of that. It's just... I don't know how to understand it better. I want to, I really do. I just don't know how."

"Well then," Shaggy sets his snacks down at the counter, waiting on the absent cashier who must be on some sort of break right now. "Let's start simple with the gender thing. You do know that pronouns and gender, like, don't really have much correlation. Right? Like. Just because you use a set of pronouns doesn't mean you also ID with that gender." He sifts though some of the chip bags, tossing the ones he doesn't like to Scoob, who devours them whole. Fred's starting to realize he ought to be a bit more scared of that dog than he initially thought. "And it doesn't mean that pronouns can't also, like, correlate with gender. With me they're even a bit related, but I can't explain it that much. And there are so many times when I wish I could just use they/them pronouns, or neopronouns, like loads of other nonbinary people do. But that doesn't fit me. Get it?"

"Oh." Fred grabs an ice cream from the freezer by the door, and places it on the counter next to Shaggy's haul. "So then why do you want to use other pronouns? If he/him works best for you as a nonbinary person, I mean."

Shaggy shrugs. "I guess it'd just make people believe me more, is all. It's like the whole word looks at me, but they see something that's not there. And I want to be seen, but it's hard, it's so freaking hard. Because I have to force people to look at me the right way, and even when they do, they still have their doubts."

"I... I think I get where you're coming from." Fred says. "Not entirely, but... I mean, I'm not trans. I'm gay. And I know it's not the same, but I guess I understand a bit where you're coming from. The whole not being seen, and then being seen in the wrong way..." He sighs. "I'm... not great, with words. But I can feel where you're coming from."

Fred looks up, and when he meets Shaggy's eyes, he's looking at Fred in a new light. Like Fred's not an enemy to try to talk out of a fight anymore.

“Jeepers, it sure is a dump back here,” Daphne says, pushing aside the piles and piles of junk in the back of Fred’s van. “It’s like someone got sick back here and vomited up the inside of a school gym, janitor’s closet and all.”

Somehow, Daphne manages to clear a space in the back big enough for the two of them to sit down. Velma grimaces, taking a seat.

"The floor's sticky."

"Yeah, that's probably the soda Fred spilled back here in late July, a few summers ago," Daphne says. "Nothing to worry about."

Velma raises an eyebrow at her. "It's still gross, Daphne."

"But not a mystery stain," Daphne says, words matter-of-fact, hand raised like she's reciting some sort of oath. "Better than many a car I've been in."

Velma laughs, and sets her computer on her lap (not the floor, it's still gross as hell back here, even if they do know where the stain and stickiness originated) and maximizes the window of the program she's been using to enhance that picture. She groans when she finds out it's still processing.

"Really?" She mutters at the screen. "How hard can it be to enhance one image? You don't even need Internet for this, you big doof."

"How're the pictures coming along? Are they gonna be of any use?"

"They will, eventually. Hopefully," Velma says, looking from the computer screen to Daphne. "They were a pretty crappy quality when I first uploaded them, what with lighting problems and the lens we used to take them and every other factor. But I've been using this program to... well, basically just work some major photo magic on it. And hopefully, by the time it's done, we'll actually be able to see what this guy looks like. That, combined with the pictures Amanda gave us - once I digitally scan them - should be a pretty good step into finding out the identity of some major players in this case."

There's a knock on the side of the van, and the two girls look up. They let the back doors open, figuring it would be nice to get some fresh air in Fred's nasty, gross, mystery van.

"Shaggy, Scooby, Fred?" Velma says. "You guys back already?"

"Yup!" Fred says. "You mind if I leave you guys in the back while you work on this? That way Shaggy and Scoob can get a turn up front."

As much as Velma dislikes Fred and absolutely despises the idea of sitting back here while the van's actually moving, she has to admit he's making a fair point. "Go on ahead," she says. "But, Shaggy, pass me some chips, please?"

"Right away cuz!" He says, handing her a bag. She pops it right open and resumes researching Mister Jameson online, minimizing the photo tool window but keeping it open. Daphne jumps as the van starts to move, things all around them already slipping and sliding and tumbling down. She grabs onto Velma's waist to steady herself, and it almost makes everything better. But then Fred turns the radio and Simple Plan's music starts blasting through the speakers again, and Velma groans.

"To the Jameson residence!" Shaggy shouts, almost a battle cry.

"To the Jameson residence!" The others repeat, and Velma wants to know how she ever managed to gain the company of three overexcited extroverts and their dog on this strange little lost-will case.

When Fred pulls up to the Jameson residence, it's late in the afternoon and sun is low in the sky, but not missing, not yet. "This is it," he says, sounding less excited than before. The house looms, creaking and groaning above them, casting a shadow over their van, which feels so much smaller than it did when Velma decided to entertain this entire adventure a few hours earlier.

"Creepy as fuck, isn't it?" Daphne says. "I'm just glad we got here before nightfall."

"Now imagine being me, man," Shaggy says. When Velma looks over at him, he's shaking.

"Are you sure about this?" Asks Velma. "We don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable with it, we don't even really need your read on the house for this case, it's not like the authorities will find it solid evidence or anything, it's really just for my own research and insight-"

"Velma," Shaggy says, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I can do this. It's important to the case and it's important to you. And no matter what, you know I've gone through worse."

He laughs, trying to lighten the mood, and Velma hates that she knows he's right. But the woman in Shaggy's house is for another time.

Velma turns to look at Daphne sitting next to her, and the to Fred in the driver's seat. "Scooby's coming with us," she says. "But you two stay in here. We need backup in case anything goes wrong. Okay?"

They nod, and Velma takes a deep breath. She opens up the back doors and jumps out of the van, and then helps Shaggy and Scooby out of the front seat.

"I just want you to remember, no matter what, I've got you," Velma says. She's got an arm around Shaggy's shoulders, helping to keep him standing despite all his nervous shaking. "Even if... whatever's in there, keeps you from saying anything, or tries to threaten you, it's tied to the property like they all are. If you ask, you can just leave, and you'll never have to go back in again, and it won't be able to hurt you."

Shaggy nods. He tries to focus only on putting one foot in front of the other, keeping his gaze on the ground at his feet instead of looking up at the house ahead of him, terrified of what he'll see.

"It's..." he sighs. "It's... not just this place that's getting to me." He stops moving for a second, and just stands there. Trying to steady his breathing. "The woman in my room... she's been getting angrier. I don't know why, I don't know what it's about or why she's taking it out on me. I... haven't been getting much sleep lately. I've been sleeping outside more. Just trying to avoid it, y'know?" He takes one step forward, and Scooby-Doo leans into him, a comforting presence. Shaggy starts to wobble again, and Velma steadies him. "But you know how people always talk about unfinished business, that sorta thing? I think she's got that going on. It's freaking me out, dude."

Velma doesn't know what to say to that, so she doesn't say anything at all. Velma Dinkley keeps her words to herself, most of the time, and only ever speaks when she knows what she's going to say.

They continue their walk towards the house, and Daphne and Fred wait in the van, watching from the rearview mirror.

"So you've got a crush on her." Fred says.

"What?!"

"Velma. You've got a crush on Velma." His gaze never leaves the reflection in the mirror. "Do I have to spell it out for you? You have noticed it, right?"

Daphne's face burns. She can't remember the last time she was blushing so hard. "I... thought I was being subtle."

"You? Subtle? Impossible." He smiles, finally looking over at her. "So. Have you figured out how to ask her out yet?"

"Fred! No, no, none of that. I don't think she even wants to go out with me. She seems pretty fine on her own."

"Come on, there's no harm in just asking her. Oh! You could have a sleepover. Good way to break the ice, right?"

"Fred."

"What? Isn't that something, uh, girls do together?"

"If you're friends, sure. But it's generally not the move to makeweight someone you actually want to ask out." She smiles, shaking her head. "Wait, how do you not know this? I thought boys had sleepovers too? Haven't you ever been to a sleepover before."

"I dunno. I think I went to one once in, uh... seventh grade, maybe?"

"And you do remember how sleepovers actually work?"

"Okay, okay. Now that you're saying it... we stayed up all night playing Minecraft and drinking Sprite until it felt like we were going to throw up and we were generally just being stupid, Daph. I'm pretty sure worse stuff went down and I just blocked it." He crosses his arms over his chest, puffing it up. "I got a tattoo from that sleepover."

"Fred, for the millionth time, your weird-shaped birthmark on your ankle is not a tattoo-"

"But it could be!"

The of them lose it, laughing so hard Daphne's doubled over in the front seat. She glances up at the mirror once more, giving it a small look. Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby are almost at the front porch of the house by now.

She hopes everything goes okay.

Shaggy Rogers doesn't feel anything when they first step on the porch, but that doesn't mean anything. The porch isn't going to cause problems unless the thing died on it. But he's terrified of opening the door, walking inside, seeing things no one else can see. Velma's the one who actually opens it, giving him one final look of Are you sure? He nods. So he crosses the threshold, bracing himself for the worst. For thoughts in his mind that don't belong to him, for a hand on his arm that he can't see, for an old woman to tell him to leave, or else she'll hurt him. But before he knows it, he's completely relaxed.

"Like, go get the others outta the car," he says. "There's nothing here."

Velma's eyes widen. "No... nothing? Nothing at all?"

"No vengeful spirits," Shaggy says. "No spirits, period."

In the back of the van, Shaggy and Velma debrief with the others. They're not outside the house anymore, no matter how ghost-free it is. Velma decided they couldn't be caught snooping - it would make them all potential suspects if the police ever decided to fully look into the case. So now they're in the lot outside the school, the one that Shaggy knows is one of the safest spots in town. They're all sitting in the back of the van. The doors are wide open, and they watch Scooby-Doo prance around outside, chasing birds and picking fights with the occasional squirrel.

"The house is totally clean," Shaggy explains. "No ghosts, no ghouls, etcetera."

"We snooped around inside for a bit, after Shaggy deemed it safe to enter," Velma says. Shaggy passes her his phone, and she picks it up, opening the photos app and showing the others some pictures. "We snapped these pictures of some footprints in the dust. Shoe size was too big to be a kid's, or one of our's that we left on accident. And it's too fresh to be Jameson's."

Fred clasps his hands together, grinning so wide and bright he could take out the sun if he really wanted to. "Well gang, looks like we've gotten pretty darn far in this case today. Who's up for some victory snacks?" He looks at the others, pointing to each of them in turn. "Victory snacks? Victory snacks? Victory snacks?"

Shaggy shouts "Hell yeah!" and lunges into the front seat, grabbing a bag of chips for each of them and tossing Scooby-Doo a Twinkie, this time (thankfully) with the wrapper off as Scooby jumps up and eats it mid-air. Daphne leans up against Velma and Shaggy and Fred are laughing and talking about how much they despise Red Herring and the project that Fred has to complete for physics this week. She's so caught up in all of the sheer joy of the moment around her that it's only when she leans back into Daphne's embrace that she gets an accidental look at the still-open computer screen, humming away in the corner of the van.

"Jinkies," Velma says, and her bag of chips drops to the floor as her hand goes limp.

Slowly, the others follow her line of sight, turning their gaze toward the laptop.

"Um, Velm? Like... who's that?" Asks Shaggy.

There's a picture on the computer screen. It's finally loaded, and the editing software must have finally processed it enough to spit it out in digital imagery. A man, face powdered to look ghastly and ghoulish, clothes torn to appear undead, stands in the center of the hallway in the photo, clearly howling out some kind of shouted threat. And even though he's scary at first glance, the longer Velma looks at him, the more she sees through his facade. The way he's clearly never even seen a real ghost, because he's doing such a bad job of acting one out. The way his outfit looks more like it came out of a five dollar movie bin than a freshly dug grave. The way he looks almost as terrified of them as they were of him.

"I have no idea," she says. "But you were right. He's no ghost."

AO3

First Chapter

<- Previous Chapter | To Be Continued

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bellatrixxue · 4 years

Text

Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)

Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67 @amazingiam00 @kalliravenne @indecisive20something @2musiclover2 @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock @wingedcatninja @arvit

Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!

A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE

FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU

So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?

Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!

Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...

If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.

I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.

Aw, Sammy...

"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T

FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.

A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.

“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.

Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit

At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.

“Bull” oop-

Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.

AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN

Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.

Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?

Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?

That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.

Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.

Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.

How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.

Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?

“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.

Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.

Go Grandpa Exposition, go!

Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!

OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.

Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!

‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.

Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.

AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?

“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?

Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...

Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp

OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY

“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.

So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?

*carefully places death flag on Roy*

Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?

That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?

*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.

Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?

Daddy Negan’s journal is a e s t h e t i q u e .

I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.

At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*

*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*

True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.

I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.

Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.

Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?

I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.

Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.

Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.

Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.

Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!

Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.

TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*

Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.

Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.

FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!

A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?

SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.

DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW

Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.

Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!

Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?

Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.

TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW

Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!

Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?

...

I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I

Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???

Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.

“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.

“I’m driving”

...

SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL

It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???

I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!

Six stars out of five!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!

- Xue

#xue's supernatural dare #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #jensen ackles #sam winchester #jared paladecki #text #i had a really bad day today with my constant pain and aching from the chemo #but this really brought genuine smiles to my face!#what a good show #what a wonderful show #how the FUCK did they fuck it up later #well #i guess i'll find out when i get there lmao

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scribblingfangirl · 4 years

Text

GLOWING IN THE DARK #0 | The Punisher - Billy Russo

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: What is this? A new Billy Russo series? Yes, yes it is and then from someone who has only written Jaskier from 'The Witcher' (if the few lousy fics even count) and one Daredevil drabble. I really enjoyed working my way through multiple Billy Russo fics here on tumblr. And while I do not agree with his character (he's an asshole and definitely not a 'cute' bad boy), I am in love with Ben Barnes (*cough* Prince Caspian, Logan Delos *cough*)… so that's a problem. This is why I wanted to throw my own take into the depths of tumblr. Now, I'm no US citizen so I have no clue how the military, goverment and all these institutions actually work, but thanks to my good friends Internet and Google I might have a chance to not totally… hmpf it. Anyway, there will probably be some MAJOR mistakes, so as this will be an Billy Russo AU anyway, just look at it like an entire AU in general, yeah? But then again: It's the marvel universe so anything's possible. Thank you in advance! However, if you wanna swing by my messages and correct me and/or help me? Yes please, let's chat and bring me up to speed on how everything works! :D Anyway enough rambling, let's start, shall we? I hope you enjoy this prologue! This is more of a warm-up to have some slight context, Billy will make his debut in the next part.

word count: ~ 1.4k

summary: A conversation on the way to the airport can lead to interesting new insights. (beginning of a Season1!BillyRusso AU)

warnings: language and there are some sentences that are waaaay to long, punctuation mistakes (in general just a weak English vocabulary)

| next part | - | series masterlist |

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The guy sitting under the tree behind the picnic table you and your friends were sitting at had been playing the same song for the past 20 minutes. Worst thing? 10 minutes into it he even started to sing it out loud, or rather, tried to do so. 'What an Asshole,' you thought groaning, shook your head and started to massage your temples. "That's not how I imagined my first day back in the States to be."

Maria, your best friend, giggled as she threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into her side, patting your head mockingly. "What? Are you telling me the soldier boys over… well, wherever you're stationed don't have such angelic voices?"

"Don't know. Couldn't hear them over the purring of our birds. Though I guess they would have sounded the same. Like plucked chicken waiting for their death sentence."

"That's kinda what they are though…," you heard one of your friends mumble on the other side of the table. From the corner of your eye you saw how another one poked her elbow into her side.

Maria released you, seeing how the other ones had pained expressions on their faces as well and clapped her hands on the table. "Well. That won't work, will it?" She stood up, smiling and walked briskly to the man.

"Hey buddy. You know anything else? Because we're sick of hearing you butcher this one."

Joining your friends in laughing at Maria's comment you turned around and caught a glimpse of the man. Poor thing was turning beet red.

"Sorry ma'am. I'm trying to learn this new song."

"Struggling a bit, aren't we?"

"Yeah well, but I don't do requests. If you want one, it's going to cost you."

Three months. It didn't even take them three months after that first conversation to get pregnant and decide to spend the rest of their lives together. It was a beautiful little ceremony, rushed for sure, but perfect for both of them. It fitted right into their relationship. And what a relationship it was. You hated seeing the uncertainty in Maria's eyes now, but you all knew it would come to this. You liked to think that she was accustomed to this, having brought you to the airport multiple times. Yet, you knew this time would be different. She wasn't just bringing her best friend, she was also bringing her now-husband and soon to be father of her child.

"You know," you said as you heaved your duffel bag into the back of the car, "If any of you dares to make me this kid's godmother, or worse, aunt-"

"We'll have your eternal love and gratitude. We know Y/N, we know."

You jokingly glared at Maria before you opened the back door of the car and sat in the seat behind her. "Not what I was trying to get to, but I let you live in your little fantasy world. This way at least one of us can sleep peacefully at night." You regretted the words almost as soon as you said them. So you quickly added, "And you know what? I'll even add a promise of being the best godmother or aunt this kid could have if you call him Pete."

Maria started the car, her pregnant belly making it harder for her to manoeuvre, and shot you a quick look as she made sure that nobody was in the way while backing out of the driveway. "I am not going to call my baby after a bird."

"You're not going to call our child Sparrow or Robin? That's good to know, after all, it will be a Frank Jr.," Frank said, having only caught the latter part of your conversation as he had checked the door one last time before entering the car the moment it was on the road.

"Goddamn Frank… Old-fashioned are we? You do realize though that it ought to be Francis Jr. right?" You smirked as you leaned over and pinched his ear a little. "You're also going to make him sound like a banker or lawyer with that name. '

He grunted and swatted your hand away, turning to look out of the window. "Oh yeah, god forbid he has a safe job and can go home to his wife and kids every day."

Silence filled the car as you slowly slid back into your seat. There it was again. You leaned your head against the window and saw Maria searching for Frank's hand with her free one, holding on to him like a lifeline. After all, it was. Even the slightest touch counted now, as it would be well over a year until their hands would find each other again.

You sighed and watched the blurry landscape pass you by. You knew that you weren't ready for a relationship. You'd love to have one, envied Maria and Frank many times over the past three months but… You wouldn't be ready to leave it all behind, leave him behind. 'Get yourself a military man,' the people said. 'That would be worse,' you'd answer, 'The possibility of seeing him out there? It's slim.' It was already hard to stay in contact with the people you left behind. You couldn't imagine how it would be trying to catch up with another solider. And not knowing if he was still alive? If you'd be able to hug him as soon as you're back on friendly territory again? You pressed your lips together.

"What's the matter?" You met Maria's eyes in the little front mirror. "You seem lost in your thoughts."

You shook your head and sadly smiled at her. "Just thinking of how strong you both are. Sure there's no possibility of me convincing you to allow Francis Jr. to live as Pete instead?" You added the last part to raise the mood.

"What exactly is it with you and Pete? I don't really fancy to call my son after an amazing ex-lover of yours."

You smirked and turned to Frank. "As you know I'm a gunner on one of the UH-1Y Venoms the Marine acquired recently. Our callsign is Blackbird, but we all call him Pete." You stopped and furrowed your brows. "Not sure why actually. I guess the boys didn't like me having the honour of naming our bird and had to overpower me somehow."

"You choose the callsign Blackbird?"

"Yes sir." You did a little salute as well as you were able to in your seat belt. "Very proud of it. Inspired by me being a little bitch who loves shiny things, especially if those shiny things can cause explosions. The shiny things are the bullets," you added at Frank's confused face. "Because I shoot them at the targets to make them go boom?"

Frank grinned as he looked over to Maria. "You knew. That's why you've been pestering me into introducing her to Billy."

You raised your eyebrows and looked at Maria through the little mirror. "Wow hold on. Declaring me aunt of your child and trying to set me up with someone? Someone's gotta show you how to draw a line Maria!"

"Don't worry. I'll be sure to learn it together with my child. And as I recall it you made me the promise to make me sleep soundly at night, so don't start moaning at us. What you reckon Frank? You think you'll be able to meet up? Introduce her to Billy? Somewhere, somehow?"

"Na…," he muttered as he slid deeper into his seat, remembering again that you weren't going on a road trip but to the airport. "We're stationed in different parts of this goddamn mess. It'd be a big surprise if we ever met on the battlefield, right kid?."

"We're the same age Castle, but yeah. However, if we ever fly over your base I'll be sure to wave at you. And, who knows? If we do ever land near your base I'll let you introduce me to your buddy. If you managed to beat me in a friendly round of combat that is. Or else you'll call your son Pete."

"You guys are children," Maria muttered as she set the blinker to turn into the airport, but you and Frank grinned at each other and high-fived.

"Deal."

#billy russo x reader #billy russo one shot #billy russo oneshot #the punisher x reader #the punisher one shot #the punisher oneshot #billy russo #the punisher #billy russo x you #billy russo imagine #the punisher x you #the punisher imagine #my writing #viascribbles

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whindsor · 3 years

Text

the trials of online dating, pt 1

so @witchofinterest asked about mika and bucky meeting online, as is alluded to in the first episode of falcon and winter soldier, and, well...here’s part one oops!

After hours of research and thought and more research and more thought, Bucky decided HiLove was the best option. The general consensus on the forums was that people were looking for something more than a hookup, and it was an app that only allowed those identifying as female or non-binary to send the first message after a reciprocating match. The very, very small part of him that remained in 1943 balked at this, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. His entire past was a quick Google search away; his potential matches deserved to know, and he didn’t want to feel the sting of rejection if they found out the hard way. A win-win.

At least, as much of a win as an ex-hydra-super-soldier was going to get.

It was all Dr. Raynor’s idea, and it wasn’t his favorite, but he was willing to jump through the hoops and say all the right things so that he could be done with this probationary period and move on with his life.

He did his best filling out the profile. Age? 106. Interests? Well he couldn’t very well put knives and psychotherapy, so instead he put hiking, technology, and reading. Job? That was easy. Former military. He didn’t need to put that he originally got drafted in the 40s, and spent the last however many years as the fist of a rogue military organization; that would be part of the Google search. He put his real name, because Dr. Raynor made him, and clicked okay. He’d been avoiding this for weeks now, and if he didn’t at least have it up whenever he saw her later that day, she would write in that stupid notebook like those scientists used to.

This was a terrible idea.

This was the worst idea.

Somehow the goddamn push notifications got turned on, and within the hour the app started going off. He eyed his phone for the first few minutes before giving in a swiping it open.

Mistake number two.

A woman in her 50s messaged him, and apparently he had to swipe a certain way to see this message. Once he saw the message - and the photos attached to it - he nearly threw his phone against the wall. Back when he last dated, in 1943, he thought he appreciated a bold woman. Bold by today’s standards was a little more than he was ready for.

He was afraid to open the app after that, and so he just let his phone sit and buzz while he watched the EuroCup matches and counted down the minutes until his appointment. There were other things he could do to occupy his time, like visit the sushi shop or the library. But that seemed overwhelming, so instead he sat on the floor and watched his games until it was finally time to go into the clinic.

“So, James,” Dr. Raynor started, crossing her legs and pretending to be casual. Bucky sat with his hands clasped, his knee bouncing as he readied himself for the interrogation. Or therapy, as they called it. “Anything new to report today?”

“Well, I tried that dating app thing you told me to do,” he said. If he started with this, then maybe he could take up enough of the time with the bullshit and avoid having to talk about stupid stuff, like what he thought about during his panic attacks or whether his arm still hurt. The look on Dr. Raynor’s face said she didn’t believe him.

“Oh yea? Which one?” she asked, her voice just as convincing as her face.

“HiLove. Seemed the best option,” Bucky said, hoping that was the right answer. She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, it wasn’t a bad move,” she said. “Any matches so far?”

He allowed one bark of a laugh before schooling his features again. “One woman, uh, wanted my appraisal of her physical appearance.”

“She sent you a nude.”

“She - what?”

“She sent you a nude. A nudie, a dirty picture, a-“

“Yea, yea, I get it,” he interrupted, not wanting to beat the dead horse. “Yea, she sent me ‘a nude’.”

“Any others?”

“Any others what?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Did any other women send messages? Or nudes?”

“I don’t know, I stopped looking after the first one,” he said. Oftentimes he lied to Dr. Raynor, but this time he could be truthful. She sighed, holding her hand out and beckoning with her fingers. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and handed it over, watching as she easily keyed in his passcode. Casual security breach. That was fine. That totally wasn’t something that kept him up at night.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” she muttered, expertly swiping through the notifications. She moved a little too easily, as if she were familiar with the app. He decided not to comment on that. “Alright, James, we gotta filter some of the shit outta here.”

“I’d prefer to filter all the shit, but that’s just me,” he said. This was a stupid exercise, but at least it was manageable, and it would keep her occupied for a while.

“Too young, too young, way too young…” Was Dr. Raynor talking to herself or to him? It didn’t matter. She kept swiping. “Chaser, chaser, catfish…ah, here’s a good one.” She opened the profile and handed it over to him.

“She’s also way too young,” he said, looking at the picture of a beautiful woman. Dark hair, dark eyes, bright smile…someone that definitely would catch his eye, if he didn’t feel the weight of his past keeping his head down.

“She’s thirty-three.”

“That’s, like, a third of my age.”

“Well, if we discount all the times you were in ice, really you’re somewhere in the thirty-five to thirty-seven range. That’s not a bad gap.”

He glared up at her for a moment before going back to the profile. He furrowed his brows as he read further. “She’s Romanian.”

“Ah, you finally noticed that, did you?” she said, and he could hear the gloating in her voice. “What, is she not your type?”

“I don’t think I have a type anymore.”

“Then swipe and see what happens.”

“I don’t know, Doc,” he said, shaking his head. This was not how it was supposed to go.

“Don’t know what?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. He shrugged, looking off to the side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her slide the notebook off the table.

“Oh, c’mon, Doc, that’s not notebook worthy,” he said. She paused her pen, but still tapped it threateningly against the paper.

“Then tell me what you ‘don’t know’ about matching with that woman,” she said.

“I haven’t been on a date in eighty years, I think a little trepidation is normal even without the shit I’ve dealt with between now and then,” he said. “It just doesn’t feel right going into something without…without the other person knowing the full story.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you a virgin, James?”

“No.” What did that have anything to do with it? “Why?”

“Just making sure I have the full story,” she said. “So you don’t want to chance anything cause they don’t know everything about you.”

“Well…”

“Counterpoint: do you know everything about her?”

He gave her an annoyed look, the matching sensation bubbling behind his sternum. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

She sighed again, scribbling something down. Inside, he wanted to rip the notebook from her hands. On the outside, he just glanced down at his phone. The screen had darkened from lack of activity, and he tapped it to wake up again. The same pretty woman smiled up at him, the little pink bar waiting for him to confirm or deny their connection.

“Want me to do it for you?” Dr. Raynor asked, her pen now still. “Cause I will.”

“I can do it, thank you,” he said. “I just don’t know if I want to.”

“Bullshit, James,” she said. “She’s a pretty girl, and it’s online. You can ghost her if you get too scared. It’s an asshole move, but technically it’s an option.”

He’s a ghost story.

“I’m not gonna do that to anyone,” he said.

“What, ghost them? Or burden them?” she asked, leaning forward and resting her elbow on her knee.

“Either. Both.” Again, with the honesty. Idiot move.

“James, listen,” she said, making him look up at her. Her tone was gentle - at least, Dr. Raynor version of gentle. “Everyone has baggage. You’ve gotta start unloading some, or you’re gonna end up getting crushed by it. The worst has already happened to you. Sometimes, if you want the good stuff, you have to go out and get it.”

Bucky stared down at the phone, wishing that it was just the jitters that he felt instead of a cold stone of dread. The worst had already happened to him, a thousand times over. Would rejection feel like nothing, or would it break him?

Well, Dr. Raynor was right. He wouldn’t know unless he tried.

“Alright, Mika Corsof,” he said, swiping the pink arrow. “Let’s see what happens.”

#online dating au #thank you leaf!!!!#i'm gonna have too much fun with this #mucky

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lynndoublelegacy · 3 years

Text

just a cool dnd meme i saw

Yook so it’s less a meme and more like. a big ol questionare but hey, might as well do it. originally saw it on @/probablyottrpgideas, go check them out

1. Game Master, Player, or both? Why?

Ok so technically I’ve DMed twice but I really don’t find it fun? and don’t ever want to do it again. so. Player. I like building characters and their connections with fellow PCs more than building worlds

2. When did you start roleplaying? How old were you?

oh god, if we’re talking about roleplaying in general? I’ve been doing it basically as long as I can remember. As a kid I would play House, and then once I got older in like 5th grade I actually started making characters and playing out their stories with friends. Google+ is what made me realize this was actually like, a THING, though, and I got into some roleplaying groups there, then on DevaintArt. Dungeons and Dragons is a newer development? I got into it in late 2018 when my sister’s friend invited us to a one-shot, and... well, yea, I got hooked lol

3. What was the first roleplaying book you ever owned?

dude, bold of you to assume I really own any. I don’t have that kind of money and literally only own the Guide to Wildemount, and that was a gift

4. Describe the first game you ever ran or played in.

I mean... it’s not a game but ima describe the one shot, bc my first campaign was a hot mess without a true storyline and I used the same character for it anyway. I played a tiefling bard called Aisling Kai (I didn’t know this was a cliche combo at this point, and I honestly played her like a rogue with a music motif but Whatever) and we were a little group tasked to figure out why the hell anyone who goes into this cave never comes out. So we go in, make our way through the dungeon, fight some frog people (I made one of their ears bleed just by getting a nat 20 on a performance check to play a high f# on flute, that was fun, FWEET), and turns out yep, theres a hill giant down here. We kicked his ass and collapsed the cave on top of us (dw I think we were fine but my memory is a little screwy)

5. What system did you grow up with? / 6. Which system do you play now?

i learned on and currently play dnd 5e. I don’t really know anything else, but I’m debating checking out Vampire of the Masquerade.

7. Longest campaign you’ve run or played in?

That would be my Tal’Dorei campaign group, aka The Fatefallen! Started in the Fall of 2019 and still going to this day, just played our 45th session last week. I play Ilia Liadon, the drow grave cleric, and the only member of our party who has been there for every single session since the beginning.

8. Where did you meet your current gaming group?

...well first I feel the need to mention that I have 3 different groups (2 of them are on hiatus now for pandemic related reasons but! we’re still groups). My first group (with Aisling) was formed slowly over time as friends adopted friends into the group, I think it started as a school club? but that didn’t last long. The other two started from a different school club as well, though one has since branched out into other people as well.

9. Strategic combat or dramatic plotlines?

I am a roleplayer first and a gamer second. Give me all of the backstories and dramatic plotlines. Don’t get me wrong, I still like combat, but story takes precedent for me.

10. Favorite RPG genre?

I don’t tend to define myself by genre? But I tend to fall into more of a fantasy, at most arcanapunk style. Give me all of the magic, and magic powered tech.

11. Your first character.

I got into her a little bit earlier, but my first character was Aisling, aka Calypso Kai. She was a homebrew subclass bard with a criminal background, who honestly? should’ve been a rogue. I’ve since rebuilt her into an Assassin Rogue/College of Eloguence Bard multiclasser, but this iteration was like. Baby her, baby me new to dnd, I did not know what I was doing. She tried to be edgy, but my mom energy came through HARD and she just. Never really had a set characterization. She deserves better and I plan on playing her better sometime in the future.

12. Your favorite character.

You are making me choose between my children. BUT, if I had to pick, either Ilia Liadon, or! Ashe Wednesday, a protector aasimar drunken master monk and my profile picture. Ashe also deserved a lot better from their campaign, so I have a massive soft spot for them, they were made during a really tough time in my life (as was Ilia) and was going through an equally rough time in-game, since I made them for a Curse of Strahd campaign without understanding what I was getting into. They’re my little rebellious asshole and I love them dearly, someone get this kid therapy. Ilia, on the other hand, is just... she’s a comfort character for me at this point. mostly soft edges, such a mom- while Ashe was me yelling “come at me” at the world while crying, Ilia was just... embracing it. Making it better. basically, if they actually existed, I would die for both of them.

13. Your most ridiculous character.

I don’t usually play super ridiculous characters, but! I would say Keothi “Bookfinder” Vaimeil counts. She was basically me looking all of the goliath barbarian stereotypes in the eye, and going “nah. she’s a nerd.” She’s literally a massive puppy dog, just the sweetest big old thing, sitting in her house and reading all the books she can get her hands on in order to make up for her amnesia. Oh, and did I mention that she’s a zombie? ...yea. She’s wacky, but I love her.

14. The best in-character line you’ve ever had.

“I need sleep. I don’t even sleep and I need sleep.”

~Ilia, after a particularly tough fight and an emotionally draining day

15. Your most epic death.

Ok so... none of my characters in game have ever actually died during the storyline? Keothi obviously has in her backstory, and Ilia might have in hers as well, it was never explicitly stated, but during the game? Nope. Ashe got stupid close, but nope. Since Keothi is my only death period, and her death was pretty epic, I’m just gonna describe that. Her parents and siblings in her Goliath tribe had all fallen ill, so she decided to go searching for a possible cure, and ended up getting conned into helping this cult, since they said they would cure her family. Turns out, yea, they were lying, they just needed a goliath willing to sacrifice themselves with a cursed sword. They made the mistake of revealing this before Keothi was actually dead, so as she was dying, she brought the entire goddamn cultist temple down to the bottom of the sea and took the cultists with her. The sword was why she was undead, in the Shadowfell, and couldn’t remember anything.

16. Your most disappointing death.

As mentioned, I’ve never died in campaign, but I feel like I have to mention this one that happened to our party in Curse of Strahd. We were in the death house, all 5 of us, still level 1, and our barbarian falls into a pit trap with spikes. None of us realize she’s actually dead, so we send out paladin down to get her... with the monk, the bard, and the warlock holding the rope. ....yea both of them died.

17. Something that shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

I’m stuck between two options for this one. First one was the time our water genasi paladin/rogue bloodbended our gnome cleric into a bridge to keep her from falling all the way down a ravine. The second time was when our party managed to defend a small seaside town from a pirate raid with just an NPC with Control Water, a ballista, ourselves, and some explosives. Neither should’ve worked, but both did. Having a triton in your party can really come in clutch in a seaside campaign.

18. Something that went hilariously awry.

I have one that’s hilarious and one that’s horrifying. Hilarious one: in my first ever campaign, someone from Aisling’s backstory popped up and our sorcerer went “that’s shady” (to be fair, he was) and then went to investigate BY HIMSELF. He obviously got kidnapped by the mafia, and then we went all stealth mission to break him out. Stealth was immediately abandoned after our other bard used a SCREAMING SWORD to break open the locks, then we proceeded to go out the way we came, setting everything on fire on the way out, and with our bard lying their way out the front door (with the rest of us in tow as “prisoners”) by pretending to be a fellow mafia member. It was great. Horrifying one: Ilia tries to Send to a member of the party who left in order to let him know that a fellow party member had died. Forgot that he left bc his mind was invaded by a previously dead, very evil old god, and ends up trapped there with him for a while. Ended up with all of our main spellcasters trapped in their own heads while the barbarian paced around worriedly and the rogue decided he was going to get smashed instead of worrying himself silly.

19. Your most memorable in-character moment.

There are a LOT in Ilia’s campaign, but! If I had to pick one, it would actually be a pretty recent one involving Ilia and our party’s wizard, Liara. They’re basically the embodiment of head vs heart? Anyway, Liara is currently suffering from something called magic corruption, though idk if suffering is the right word. Anyway! It basically resulted in her getting... possessed? by her own magic during the night during Ilia’s watch, and they had a really, really interesting conversation regarding guilt, death, and grief, and yea basically I love them. Honorable mention to our druid’s death (he’s back and better now, but that was my first long-time death in a game, we didn’t know he was coming back) and also the moment that Ilia realized that her childhood bff/crush had been revived in a new body and that this NPC was her best friend. That was a trip.

20. The coolest item you ever got and how you came to possess it.

I got this item in the revamp of my first ever campaign and nothing has topped it since which is Sad but hey. Anyway! I got this really cool, possibly cursed dagger after I threw a knife at an absolutely eldritch being and it got stuck in him as he transformed. It looked really badass, and allowed me to cast Inflict Wounds on occasion when I stabbed someone with it. So yea, we love that. Honorable mention to my paladin/bloodhunter’s Helm of the Aberrant Gladiator which allows you to basically do a bunch of fear based affects and psychic stuff.

Numbers 21 through 30 don’t apply to me but. yea. enjoy this summary of my dnd history I guess

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #d&d 5e #dnd meme #i would like to apologize to Vail and Zohros #they deserved better than to be briefly mentioned but their campaigns are also on hiatus #so they're not overly relevant rn #vail is the paladin/bloodhunter #zohros is the triton #he's a rogue

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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20. Sink

Word Count: 3989 Trigger warnings for religion and mentions of child pornography

Lord, if it’s you,” (Simon) Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said. Then (Simon) Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Matthew 14:28-30

Simon had never been very religious. Scratch that… Simon had never been very mystical about religion. Whenever he was younger, his family went to church and he was quite studious and learned a lot in that time period. His father still believed in God and country or whatever and his grandmother, he imagined was praying over his mom every single day. But, he had never really known what it felt like to have that kind of faith in anyone or anything… until he was given Grace. It wasn’t lost on him the religious implications of being a boy named Simon (like Simon Peter, aka The Apostle Peter - huge name in the Bible world) being granted a savior, being blessed with Grace after a terrible sin, whether intentional or not, of killing Hope… His mind was in a daze right now.

It was the fourth religious dream he had since that interview, and in this one, he was Simon Peter, calling to his Savior in the storm. Grace was just across the water. All he had to do was get to her and she would rescue him from all of this, just like she always used to. But, he looked at the impending storm, instead. He had Grace, but he was focused on the storm, and he sank… He jumped up from his sleep and literally felt like he had been drowning. Ugh. 10 years of church and 4 years of private school could definitely mess with one’s mind. Then again, so could 6 years of Grace and 5 years without it… her…

He had begun to try to stop rationalizing that she wasn’t human. Unfortunately for him, before he considered her the void, she hadn’t been human for him either, then. She had been a deity. He worshipped her. She had been a vessel to save him, to help him, to comfort him. She had been what he built his faith system upon, his religion, his Apex, his lifestyle… Then, she was gone and he tried to continue without her. He tried to rebuild in his own image, in his own name. He tried to walk on water, as he had seen her do, now all he was doing was sinking…

In the aftermath of the interview, Simon noted that his faithful followers went on one of their ravenous attacks in Shana’s comment sections. She could even just post a photo of herself in the newsroom at Spelman as an inspirational post and they appeared in her comments to berate her for speaking about inspiration when she would attack an abuse survivor and have his abuser on her show, trying to make her sympathetic. Shana seemed entertained for some of the comments, replying things like a simple “K” or “Lol” and never addressing the person again, even if they supplied a melee of character attacks at her.

But, on the video link, whenever people started also attacking Grace’s fakeness and the fact that she still gets to abuse Simon indirectly by doing things like this, Shana had enough. She let them know that she had no regrets about the interview with Grace, no regrets about anything that she said about Simon, and none about all of her opinions of him. “Even if he’s a different person today, considering that he never got any backlash for the sex tape from high school, which i firmly STILL believe that he should be held accountable for, which I am convinced that he leaked, and I think that if he’s truly changed, he would have wanted to make that right at some point and free Grace from the uninvited attacks for that CRIME AGAINST HER, committed by him.”

There was an explosion of mixed reactions. Everything from, “This is the first that I’m hearing of this” to “Simon would never have done anything like that to Grace” to “WHERE CAN I FIND A SEX TAPE OF SIMON AND GRACE???” Many people were blocked. Many people were rocked, as Shana went live to address the massive amount of comments coming from her spilling that tea.

She made mention of the facts that while the statute of limitations of revenge porn had been exceeded, they didn’t exist for child porn. “And in case anybody is confused, yes, I am including links to inform you about how what he did is in fact child pornography creation, possession, and distribution, AND what the law says concerning them.” After replying to many of the comments, mostly in an amused fashion, she got bored.

“Listen, I’m getting ready to go chill with my lady and get ready for class tomorrow, but I’ll just say this one more thing, “I’m not taking my foot off of Simon Laurent’s neck. As long as Grace has had to suffer in silence, because she’s no longer the vengeful type or whatever, she’s on right now in her journey, the journalist in me and the enraged victim in me will always come for Simon and the way he used the privilege that he did have - not to say that he didn’t lack in certain areas like money and common decency, but the ones he DID have - his race, his gender, his orientation, his proximity to education, etc, in order to vilify and humble this girl with false accusations of crimes, and get away with unconfessed crimes. Yeah, this IS about my Sassy Strawberry keychain, Simon you bitch! I know you watching. To those of you who can’t be bothered to use your Googles, I don’t know what to tell you, kinfolk. Shady Shana has said all that she needs to say for now. Tata, from the perfect place for shade.”

Then her accusations, the search for the information of said accusations and the buzz from back then resurfacing went even more viral than the things that he had said about Grace whenever he reached notoriety from the stories. Now that the Internet and social media were even bigger and just kept growing with time, Grace still being a huge public persona, despite the few short years that she wasn’t online and the time she had been inside, she made an explosive comeback at least as an Internet personality, and Simon was never as frequent online as he was a short time in the eye of the public to get himself established, but several professors had used his story for various seminars and lectures, his books did pretty well, and he was a very established young mind in his academic circles… So, he was a big deal in his world, but on the grand scale becoming infamous for this new attention.

Shana and Grace’s worlds were very large, and both of those were combining to infiltrate his world with these not necessarily new pieces of information, but things that he thought would have been forgotten or left alone. He had not even considered that Shana would ever… Like… why was SHE so damn upset? Because of a small scuffle? Because of somebody else’s alleged injustice? Somebody that she didn’t even LIKE for most of her life? “Journalist” she was a shit-stirrer! All of her muckraking was making things complicated for simple Simon. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like dreaming about Grace as his savior. He didn’t like the idea of reaching out to her to get her to grab her dog. He didn’t like that he was suffering from nights more sleepless than usual and beginning to become counterproductive in his work.

Worrying about ramifications of the words “child pornography” and “sexual predator” being tossed about in conversations with his name led to nightmares, paranoia, guilt, intrusive thoughts, and mistakes in class and at work. One of them turned out big…

Amelia came up to him in her lab, with her arms folded and her face stern, “Is there anything you think we should discuss, Mr. Laurent?” He frowned and glanced her way, still working on the formula for the next tests in the prosthetics serum they were spending time discussing as one of his potential next big things. She raised her eyebrows and asked, “Not even an acknowledgment of what I’m speaking of?”

“I know what you’re speaking of and I decided that no, we don’t need to discuss it. It’s a personal matter.”

“A personal matter? Simon, you are supposed to be seeing a counsellor once a week, and now I find out that not only did he recommend that you see him twice a week, but that you haven’t seen him in several weeks! It is part of your ability to stay here, and I don’t appreciate that you’ve ducked out on this requirement, especially considering the personal matter you’re referring to.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and set down his supplies. “This is about the shrink? I haven’t been able to see the guy, because I’ve been working on the new formula nonstop. I need a breakthrough, and if I can get the formula right for enhancing the prosthetics, I’ll be famous for that. I’ll be closer to the goal of enriching artificial organs, maybe even organic ones!”

“I know what this work would mean if successful. That isn’t the point. The point is that you are not allowed to be here without the help that you need and you agreed to. I’m going to have to speak to the committee, now that I know you haven’t been…” She turned and he caught her wrist really hard. The woman jerked away. She was stronger than he thought.

“Amelia… Please. I need this. People are out to get me. Out to destroy everything that I’ve built for myself, without parents, without love, without an inheritance. I got here on my own merit, my own mind! I can’t have it be the thing that gets me sent away.”

“You needed to consider that after we gave you another chance! We can’t keep going back and forth with you while you refuse to take the help that you need in order to get to your next rung!” She was loud. He felt like she was yelling at him. He didn’t like people yelling at him, especially women, especially older ones… It made him extremely angry and he yelled right back at her, only to find that she either hadn’t been yelling or she had an even louder yelling setting.

“I’M DOING MY GODDAMN BEST!”

“MAYBE YOUR BEST ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH!”

And in addition to the yelling, the thing yelled was extremely hurtful. But, Simon was an angry hurt type. So, he was hurt, but it manifested in anger, “LIKE YOURS WASN’T! YOU HATE ME BECAUSE I CAN BE A BETTER YOU!” She laughed. That made him even angrier. “ADMIT IT! YOU’RE SO HARD ON ME BECAUSE I AM BETTER THAN YOU!”

“Simon, you’re a child. A foolish, often incorrect child. There are many things that I credit as better than me. You aren’t one of them.” He was breathing hard and clenching his fists. “I advise you to immediately set an appointment with your therapist and I demand that you leave the lab at once. At the very least, you need to take a break. At worse… you broke our agreement, Simon.” She began to touch his research, to put everything away, as he stormed out, trying not to let her see him cry and trying not to explode in the lab and further mess things up for himself. He didn’t get far before there was a different explosion in there. Not an extremely loud one, but loud enough that he turned around as others rushed in.

Simon got on the phone, calling the last counselor that he had spoken to as everyone else scurried about trying to get help and rushing in various directions. “She was just arguing with Laurent, he rushed out and then this happened,” he heard someone say and he watched the three students who had been talking stop and look right at him. “Are you calling 911?” One of them asked. He shook his head, because he hadn’t been. Once again, it wasn’t his first thought when he witnessed an emergency. One of them grabbed their phone out, presumably to do so and he… left. He probably should have stayed, but he couldn’t breathe and needed some space and needed to rage.

It didn’t take others long to start whispering. Simon had found a dumpster to kick for a while before returning to the scene and seeing them rushing Amelia into an ambulance. Police were there and wanted to talk with him. He knew that people would talk. They had been talking. He also knew that sometimes he imagined that people were talking more than they actually were and he hoped that perhaps, this would be one of those times that he imagined the criticism. It was not.

On top of the internet’s allegations of child pornography, learning that the state of California might be investigating these allegations, for the Monroe Estate, and being questioned about his chemical engineering “mistake” with the formula that became unstable as Professor Hughes attempted to put it away…

Simon was whatever the opposite of numb was. He felt all things, everything, anything, all at once and at a peak. He hadn’t felt this way in a really long time and the only times he had, he had Grace to think of and settle him. After that, he had his own greatness to reflect upon… but that was slipping away from him and Grace had slipped away… No… He had shoved her away, and he needed her so much right now. Because he didn’t know if he could pull himself up from sinking. “Lord save me!” He heard himself yelling from the water in the storm… But Grace couldn’t hear him. She was too far away, and she wasn’t his savior anymore. He looked up for something to latch onto, but all there was, was the Void.

Its big black, form, with an aura of fluid black smoke, and hovered over him and charged at him, its face stopping just short of his own and he looked up to see it. It was nothing but a pale mask, much like one of the ones that Grace used to wear. Maybe… Maybe she was still inside of the void somewhere. Maybe she would rescue him after all. “Grace?” he called, “Is that you?” It had nothing in it’s face. No feeling, no warmth. There was no way that Grace was there. It had no reply. He blinked it away and looked at the police. They had just released him… so… something had saved him… for now. Probably just dumb luck, or lack of evidence. There had to be a lack of evidence, because he knew that he had done nothing wrong.

Despite having done nothing wrong, he had apparently made some type of mistake with the formula, but he figured it was more likely that Amelia had made some mistake in putting it away. It was too soon to voice that opinion. Students were upset, like she was some lovable figure. She was a bitch. He didn’t feel bad at all that she was hurt and he hoped that nobody expected him to act like he did. But, they were talking again. He felt like whenever he was a freshman at the academy and the staff and students didn’t appreciate him because they hadn’t seen his value yet… but these people knew him. He was important! He was significant now! He had done everything to become valuable and honored, including giving up Grace when she was holding him back!

“Simon, it sounds like you’re just blaming everyone else for your problems again.”

“I’m only saying what happened. I matter, and they treat me like I don’t. They look at me like I’m a criminal. They’re handling me like I haven’t done great things! Like they haven’t heard of me or something! Who do they think they are?”

“To not value you? Maybe they’re just strangers, Simon. You’ve spoken to me a few times, and I don’t know you, either. That doesn’t take away from anything that you might have done, but it doesn’t give me the insight that you have of yourself. The same can be said about any of the people here,” the counsellor said. Simon resumed his meetings, but it was too little too late, as he was called back to the committee.

Grace was really just trying to enjoy her life. She only did the interview with Shana because Shana had REALLY come through in finding Hazel for her. She explained to the people keeping Hazel how she knew her and how she found her (not mentioning Shana’s name, but that she “hired an investigator”) mainly because she just wanted to see how Hazel was doing. The short answer was “not great,” but the long answer was Grace hated the fact that everyone that she talked to about Hazel didn’t seem to really know her or how to deal with her. That made her afraid that Hazel would continue to get bounced around, and eventually be lost to her again. After being approved as someone who could visit and spend time with Hazel (a longer process than she would have liked, and one that she knew could have been shortened if she just went crawling back to her parents), but one that was worth the work, because not only was she able to see Hazel and talk to her, but she also got her a phone, in case they were separated again and Hazel needed to reach out to her.

The last thing that Grace wanted to do was be dragged into Simon’s situation. So, whenever people asked her about him, sent her messages, intruded into her comments, @ her in posts… she declined from responding. She made a statement on her linked social media accounts, reminding everyone that 1. She doesn’t speak about Simon. 2. She said everything that she intended to say to people outside of the situation to Shana in the interview. 3. She is not responsible for Shana’s feelings about the incident in question (the recording and sharing of the recording) 4. She has never spoken to anyone but Simon about the incident in question and doesn’t plan on going much more in depth with anybody about it any time soon.

Whenever asked about the recording, since she did say in the statement that she had spoken with Simon about it, and it was presumed that meant that maybe they had made it together and it got leaked, as those things tend to do, she confirmed that she didn’t know anything about the recording until after everyone else had seen it, that she doesn’t like to think about it or that time in her life because it was one of her most embarrassing and painful experiences and she doesn’t want to have to relive it simply because people are curious about these details that don’t affect them one way or another…

People were relentless and dedicated to being in other people’s business. What about Simon? It affects Simon! Why aren’t you helping clear Simon’s name? Why are you still hurting Simon? What about affecting Simon? She’d punch every last one of these people in the mouth, just like she did Simon when she found out, if they were in front of her. Even, now, being someone trying very hard to be peaceful and patient… “Simon already knows everything about that time that I would be able to say, so telling anyone else anything wouldn’t help him or me. If I was silent about it whenever it might have actually changed my trajectory in a favorable way, I’m certainly not going to begin going off about it now that I’ve been given another chance at a positive life, despite the things that caused me pain. Simon knows more than I do and more than you. Perhaps you should ask him, if you want someone who doesn’t seem to mind speaking about these subjects.”

That was what did it. Simon watched in a panic as former Apex members, arose to defend Grace and admit that during the time, Simon was open with certain people about having orchestrated the recording and using it to oust Grace from her throne. “We were mean kids, and I don’t know if we thought far ahead enough to really see what something like that could do to somebody. We all found it either funny or scary and weren’t brave enough to stand up for her back then, but Grace did nothing wrong and people should let her live her life instead of bringing this back up and hurting her again.” They basically all said some variation of that.

He became immediately notorious as #GraceDidNothingWrong began trending and multiple Apex members, former nonessentials, declared nulls, and actual victims of some of Simon’s direct attacks come forward, opening up about their experiences with Simon’s Apex, the Apex in general, including anecdotes, quotes, confessions, etc to further prove Simon’s guilt. To top it off Simon was put on academic probation as everything unfolded including the way he had been handling his psychiatric deal with the committee being unmet and the negligence that led to Professor Hughes’ accident. When he began losing various deals, gets major backlash for the accident, on top of the allegations of child pornography being investigated, he began to spiral as he considered possible charges from CA to MA. He deleted all of his social media accounts and shadow cyberstalked Grace, only to see that she really wasn’t participating in all of this.

He was SO CLOSE to his first Master’s degree. He couldn’t let all of this throw away his future! He was young and stupid and maybe he was wrong, but he wasn’t going to say that and he definitely didn’t feel like he deserved to be punished for it right now!

He had been trying not to think about that interview, but the more he tried not to think about it, the more he obsessed over it - over her wondering how he was doing, over the potential for her to actually still care. It was so stupid. It was foolish. There was no way that she really felt like that, but all of his distraction had caused him to possibly make some type of stupid mistake. The police were investigating, but he was the main one working in the lab, so whatever happened was most likely due to some type of misstep on his part. He certainly had not rigged anything to explode in Professor Hughes’ face, like some seemed to be trying to suggest!

The fact that they did not get along wasn’t very helpful to him. The argument right before it happened made it even more suspicious, and where they should have been able to speak with his psychiatrist to ensure that he was doing fine… he hadn’t been consistent with any long enough for them to know that he was doing fine… which brought attention back on him from the committee, which he guessed felt like he was jumping through loopholes in their deal. He saw the Void again, it's voice like a chorus of succubi singing, “I’ve come to take everything from you. It’s what you deserve.”

He rushed to the airport. He didn’t even have a place to stay. He rushed to the Monroe’s, snuck into their gate and beat on the door. It was 2 am, but he couldn’t wait. The Void was after him, and he NEEDED his Grace.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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