#i have one really clear memory of the kids being taken aside for sunday school after rhe first 15 minutes of the meeting

[farsailing]

mmmm thinking of attending meetings after the move if my work schedule allows. i’m def not interested in returning to Christianity theistically, but i do kind of miss the community of meetings. the society of friends for my new city does unprogrammed worship (the kind my family attended) and is inclusive so i may reach out to them about attending sometimes

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 4 -- Stalemate Word Count: 8284

READ ON AO3

Waking up to the sound of her parents’ latest invention going awry was something she was sure she was never going to get used to. Never mind that she’d have an entire life to get accustomed to it or her newfound respect for what her family did for a living. 

As disciplined as Jasmine Fenton was, being awakened by an explosion was never going to be anything but annoying. 

Sighing resignedly, Jazz yanked her covers aside and got up, ready to start a new day. After showering and getting dressed with a long-sleeved, white dress shirt, a black ribbon tied tightly around its collar; a matching black, a-line skirt over thin grey tights; a teal blazer over her shirt, and brown ankle boots (which went well with her brown leather shoulder bag); she first made her way down the stairs to her parents’ lab. 

Absent-mindedly combing her pixie cut with her fingersーa decision she made after 18 years of rushed haircuts due to having been covered in some sort of unknown ectoplasmic goo after an invention explodedー, Jazz cut straight to the chase. “Let me guess, your latest invention just ‘malfunctioned’”, she air-quoted. 

As she expected, Jack and Maddie were hunched over a metallic device that had definitely seen better days, if the smoke coming off of it was any indication...What she wasn’t expecting though, although she should have, was her dad’s answer. “Actually, that was just the Fenton Toaster. We were about to start the day with a healthy, ghost-kicking breakfast, when she failed on us.” Had she been sixteen again or literally any other person in the world, Jazz might’ve actually been taken aback by the fact that her dad was tearing up over a toaster. Then again, she was Jazz Fenton and this sort of thing from her dad was as common as him yelling obscenities about ghosts. “Oh, dear friend. We hardly knew ye!” 

Rolling her eyes at his dad’s antics while her mum patted his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, Jazz muttered, “Dad, that toaster’s almost as old as Danny…” Who, by the way, was going to be ecstatic to learn the dreaded toast-drying machine from Hell had finally been vanquished. 

Speaking of her little brother, “Where’s Danny, anyway?”

Again, to any other family in the USA but the Fentons, that question would have seemed stupid. Danny was a college student who lived at his university’s dorms with his best friend, so the chances of him being around his childhood home during the school year were pretty slim. And, again, they were the Fentons, and her little brother had been going back and forth from his dorm, to Fenton Works, to the Ghost Zone (not like their parents knew, or even needed to know, about that one…) since he first got into APU. 

Maddie left her weeping husband’s side to pick a wrench up and start working on the toaster again ーpoor Danny; it seemed the evil, toast-drying machine from Hell was harder to get rid of than Vlad. “Sorry, sweetie. You missed him while you were doing your research. Your brother was here yesterday; he said he came Sunday night because he couldn’t find his dorms’ keys. But he’s back at college now.”

She suddenly stopped tinkering with the busted toaster’s inner workings, taking off her goggles from her face, a pensive expression plastered on her face. “Hm...I know Danny’s always been a little distracted, but he keeps losing his keys. At this rate he’s going to end up sleeping on the street just because he can’t get inside his own home!”

Recovering from his temporary loss of composure over the Fenton Toaster ー“I love you, guys, but it’s a miracle this family hasn’t been studied by professional psychiatrics already. Not like I didn’t give it my best shot…”, Jazz thought to herselfー, Jack was soon standing right beside his wife, towering over the pile of scrap metal with a matching pensive expression of his own. 

That couldn’t be good.

“Now that you mention it, sweetcakes,” he said, “you’re right. Danny’s always losing stuff!”

“Right?” Maddie insisted. “Don’t you remember, back in his first year of high school, when his English teacher, Mr. Lancer, called you over because Danny’s pants kept falling several times just that week?”

“Uh...the memory’s a bit blurry, Hon, but I know what you mean.” In truth, Jack didn’t remember any of that. All he knew was that he suddenly found himself chaperoning a homecoming dance. If only there was a way to get your memories back like those keychains that you attached to your clothes… And then it hit him. “I know, Maddie! Why don’t we make one of those keychains that you attach to your clothes so you won’t lose them for Danny?”

His wife beamed at that. For all his scatterbrained-ness, Jack truly was a talented inventor with a creative mind. Just a fuzzy head. “Oh, that sounds marvelous, honey! I’m sure Danny will love that!” She exclaimed before quickly pecking him on the lips.

Unbeknownst to her parents, Jazz grimaced in worry at the idea. Back when she was sixteen, or any other day, really; she’d have been overjoyed at the idea of her ghost-hunting parents creating something that was absolutely non-ghost-related, but since said idea would make it more difficult for Danny to keep his secret from them...She was just glad she was in town to look over him. Trying to appear supportive rather than dismayed, Jazz chirped, “Yeah, great idea, Dad...What are you going to call it? The Fenton Keychain?”

“‘The Fenton Keychain?’” Jack parroted before scoffing. “Of course not, Jazzy-pants! I was thinking something more along the lines of, ‘The Fenton Fermoir’!” He announced, striking a dramatic pose. 

The blue-eyed young woman started at that, taken aback. “Wait, ‘fermoir’? Isn’t that French?”

“Yes, it’s an adjective that means ‘that which closes.’” 

Gaping at her dad, Jazz blinked. And blinked again. And blinked a third time for good luck. “...you know French?”

This time, it was her mother who answered her, laughing her question off. “Oh, yes. There’s more to us than just ghost-hunting, you know?” Then she and her husband laughed together at her own joke. 

“Could’ve fooled me…” Jazz mumbled. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Um...oh, right. So Danny’s not here today, huh?” Her parents shook their heads. “That’s a shame, I wanted to ask him how things were going with...um...with, you know, school and all that. Oh, well! I’m sure he’ll tell me some other time.”

Jack and Maddie exchanged a glance. Ever since Danny started going to high school, their kids often acted weird. At first, they blamed it on adolescence, making them want to make an identity for themselves outside of their parents’ influence but not knowing exactly who they truly were, either. But the fact that their eldest child was 23, their youngest 21, and they still acted like that sometimes was a bit concerning. 

The wrench in her hand long forgotten, Maddie made her way to her daughter’s side. She draped an arm around her shoulders, not noticing that said arm was the one holding the aforementioned wrench and that she was unconsciously pointing at Jazz’s face with it. “Honey, is there something about Danny we should know about?”

Jazz panicked.

Yes.

Yes, there were so many things about Danny they should know about.

They should know their kid had gone through a terrible accident that changed his life forever at the tender age of fourteen. They should know he got ghost powers he spent agonising months trying to get control over. They should know he only ever wanted to protect innocents from ghosts and yet, he was labeled as a menace by the very same people he was trying to look after. They should know he’d not only been carrying the burden of being Amity Park’s unofficial protector since he was fourteen, but also became the king of an entire dimension and could count the people he could rely on with his hands. They should know he went through his very first serious heartbreak because the girl he liked hated his ghost half more than she liked him. They should know their college best friend was a fruitloop who wanted to kill Dad, take Mum from him, and either kill or adopt Danny; because, really, it all depended on the side of the bed Vlad woke up on.

They should know their only son was risking his life even more now because he’d made a deal with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park who, judging by what Danny had told her, was the embodiment of a death sentence.

And he’d been carrying all those burdens and responsibilities, facing constant danger, making decisions not even full-fledged adults would find easy to make, and had been aimed at with ecto-blasters by his own parents since he was fourteen. Being Danny Phantom had stolen some of the best years of his life away from  Danny Fenton. 

And they had no idea of any of that. 

But how could they, when Danny refused to tell them the truth?

Every time Danny faced a bigger threat than dealing with ghosts of the same caliber as the Box Ghost, Jazz tried convincing him to come clean to their parents. Because, what if they never saw him again after that battle? What would she tell them, then? 

But Danny would not budge. And, Jazz remembered, she couldn’t blame him. With the entire town, barring a dedicated fan club, and a good chunk of the Ghost Zone against him, how could he risk losing one of the very few places he could call home? Just like she told him when he asked her why she never said anything about his secret, it was his secret. Only he could talk about it with Mum and Dad. 

“Jazz, honey? Is everything alright?”

Her mother’s voice broke her out of her stupor. She must’ve spaced out for a while, for her parents were looking at her worriedly. Flushing sheepishly, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. And don’t worry about Danny either. He just…” What was that excuse he told her he’d use if anyone started asking questions again? Oh, right. “He’s just busy working on a paper to help me with my own thesis, that’s all.”

Okay. So not only was it a lie, but it wasn’t exactly what Danny told her to say, either. Her little brother decided to respond saying he was suddenly very interested in the occult because he was writing a paper on a seminar he’d signed himself up for, but since she went back to Amity Park to study the witches there, it was still a good excuse. 

Said excuse seemed to calm her parents down, before they fully registered her words and they seemed worried again. But, she knew, this time they were worried for her.

“Uh, Princess? Are you sure you want to focus that thesis of yours on...witches?” Jack asked warily, looking up from the remainers of the Fenton Toaster.

The redhead rolled her eyes in annoyance; there they went again. “Your father’s right, sweetie. While not necessarily a bad topic...erm...it’s not exactly the easiest one to research.” Her mother tried to discourage her gently. “For starters, most of the  records we have are nothing but speculations and hearsay… I mean, the Salem witch trials were mostly based on unfounded accusations!”

How two of the world leading experts in ectology, who defended the existence of ghosts long before their theories were proven correct, could be so convinced there was no such thing as witches was beyond her. Arbitrary scepticism, much?

Jazz had to admit, she understood her family’s surprise when she opted to focus her thesis for her Cryptology class on the legendary women. A psychology undergraduate, a woman convinced of the infallible nature of the scientific method since birth, and an aspiring psychologist since she was sixteen, it was understandable that her decision to minor in Cryptology would come as a surprise to...well, everyone. 

But protecting your half-ghost little brother from the shadows for the last seven years had a way of making you question everything you once thought you knew. 

After all, if such a thing as ghosts weren’t only real but had an entire dimension for themselves, then who was to say such a thing as magic-wielding women couldn’t exist?

The moment Danny told her and Tucker he planned on asking them for help at the beginning of Fall only cemented her decision. It was a real pity Danny refused to disclose the supposed location of the Amity Park clan for her safety. 

“Mum, Dad, I’ve told you already. It’s precisely because of all those myths that I want to study them. For all we know, all those potions that are always mentioned in folklore could just be really advanced medicine. Are we really going to turn our backs on the scientific community like that?”

“And that’s a great idea sweetie! But…” Maddie tried reasoning with her, but nothing came to mind. Awkwardly, she turned to her husband and whispered harshly, “Help me out here, will you?”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. “What your mother’s trying to say, Jazz, is that, if there was evidence on the existence of witches, we’d already know. Don’t forget, your ancestor, John Fentonightingale, was a celebrated witch hunter during the time of the Salem trials. He was an admired and respected member of his village, but the only thing he ever did was send innocent people to be burned alive.

“When he eventually realised what he’d done, he spent the rest of his life lamenting his shortsightedness; rejecting the fame and glory his witch-hunting days had brought him. And even if he ultimately turned to ghost-huntingー”

“Goodbye, fame and respect.” Jazz mumbled.

“ーthe hole in his heart caused by his actions would never be filled again.” Jack finished his tale with a morose expression, hoping Jazz would understand what he was trying to say. 

She didn’t. “Okay, that was a very moving story with a valuable lesson on the dangers of letting fear and paranoia overtake us. But what does it have to do with me?”

Still standing by her daughter’s side, Maddie tried comfortingly rubbing her arms with the hand that wasn’t holding the wrench. “We’re just trying to warn you not to jump to conclusions, because you might regret it.”

Okay, that was it. Her parents were in no position to warn her against jumping to conclusions; they lost that right the day she finally understood they’d been unknowingly talking about ripping their own son apart ‘molecule by molecule’ ーright in front of him. Jerking away from her mother’s touch, she put her hands on her hips as she sent them her most meaningful look.

“For the last time! I’m not going to try and, I don’t know, rally up the entire town against the witches! I just want to study them. You know, learn about their culture, about the origins of their abilities, about the differences between fact and fiction...” she shot them a pointed look as she stressed that last part. “I just want to understand them!”

“But you don’t even know if they exist!” Jack protested as she made it to the stairs.

Hearing her dad’s comment, she turned to face them once more. Oh, she knew they existed alright, that much Danny had been able to clue her in. What she didn’t know was where to find them. But she couldn’t tell them that. “Well, that certainly didn’t stop you from building a ghost portal to another dimension you weren’t even sure existed! And it sure as Heck won’t stop me!” 

That last comment should be enough to get her parents off her back for at least a couple of days. But the conversation had put her in a bad mood, something that didn’t happen since she learned to appreciate her parents’ ghost-hunting abilities, or, when it was Danny who was being pursued by them, their lack thereof. Stomping out of the house and slamming the door closed behind her, Jazz angrily made her way to the usual starting point of her quest. 

The Amity Park Public Library. 

The large granite building was supposed to be completely white, but the decades since it was built had washed out the stones, making them look grey-ish instead. The several steps leading up to the entrance were flanked by two lead lion statues resting atop a block of stone each. The front of the building, on the other hand, was both decorated and supported by numerous columns, with two of them at either side of the wooden door. 

Despite the impressive sight, what truly mattered lay behind its doors. Walking inside, Jazz let herself be washed over by the smell of ink and paper so characteristic of the library. Wherever she looked, hundreds of books stood proudly on their shelves, some of them so high up that the only way to reach them was with the help of stairs. 

Scattered around the library were several tables and plastic chairs where the visitors could sit to read their latest acquisition or work on the projects that brought them to the library in the first place. 

Breathing the scent in, Jazz walked over to the little counter located right at the entrance of the library, where the librarian would usually be working on her computer. Whenever she wasn’t out and about organising books, that is. 

Jazz waved at her with a smile. After coming to the library to study for years, she was basically a regular by now. “Good morning, Wilhelmina!” Wincing at her unintentional high-pitched tone, she lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “How’s everything around here?”

Looking up from her computer, the pudgy woman smiled knowingly at Jazz before willing her chair to get closer to her. “Good morning, Jasmine. It’s been so long since I last saw you; when was it again, two days ago?” Wilhelmina joked as she leaned in closer to the redhead, intertwining her fingers as her elbows rested on her desk.

Jazz flushed slightly at the harmless jab. “What can I say? You won’t get rid of me so easily!”

“Don’t I know it…” There was something odd about the way the librarian said those words, but the redhead decided to let it go. It was probably nothing, either way. 

“I wanted to ask you if you could recommend a book onー?”

“On witches?” The auburn-haired lady finished for her. Seeing the young woman’s embarrassed hint of red on her cheeks, she chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so surprised, my dear. You’ve been asking for the same thing for almost a month now! It’s just nice seeing someone retain some sort of interest for this old place and its books. Nowadays, most people just come here to surf the net for free.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me for a while, then! So, the books?”

Leaning back on her chair, Wilhelmina pointed to a faraway aisle. “Try the History section. I’m sure there’ll be a journal or something to help you with your paper.”

Jazz flashed her a charming grin, “Thanks, Wilhelmina. You’re the best!” As she turned her back on the librarian, Jazz failed to notice the dark grin that made its way to her face. 

Once Jazz was out of earshot, Wilhelmina said, “Oh, you have no idea,” the twisted expression never leaving her face.

As she walked around the library’s endless halls, Jazz couldn’t help but be grateful for having Wilhelmina as the librarian. Any other person would have looked at her like she was crazy or a Satanist murderer in the making for researching the occult so much, but never Wilhelmina. The woman just smiled at her and tried helping her to the best of her abilities. If Jazz had been looking for information entirely on her own, she’d have stuck to a particular section of the library, but Wilhelmina was always recommending a broader search. And, Jazz couldn’t help but think, it was a smart choice. One never knew what they could find or learn if they listened to different experiences other than their own. 

Standing in front of the shelf where the history books were, the aqua-eyed woman began scanning for something that might help her clear up the fog surrounding the group of witches Danny might be facing from now on. If she could just find out where their hideout was supposed to be… Not only would she be able to study them, but she might even convince them to ally themselves with her brother for good!

Ever since she was a teenager and found out about her brother’s secret, Jazz was determined to focus her thesis on the effects such circumstances could have on him. But as time went by, she came to understand that would be impossible. Writing a thesis on Danny’s very unique circumstances would be akin to exposing him, and she couldn’t do that to him. 

Because he trusted her. 

Danny’s number of enemies increased tenfold by the day, while his allies followed a much more stagnant rhythm. Goodness, he couldn’t even get his girlfriend to give up ghost hunting for him! She and Tucker were the only two people in all of Amity Park he could rely on. 

And there was no way she’d ever betray that trust. 

Which, sure, was a very meaningful proof of the love and bond between them, but still left Jazz without a topic for her thesis. So when Danny revealed his discoveries on the existence of witches, of all things, she was ecstatic. 

The possibility of a magical species living in Amity Park was perfect on many levels. On the one hand, it would expand their knowledge of the paranormal, with the added bonus of finding potential alternatives for everyday problems. And on the other, it gave her the perfect excuse to stay close to Danny and make sure he was safe. With her in town, he wouldn’t have to make up excuses as to why he slept in Fenton Works when he already had a perfectly nice place to stay at APU. All he had to do was phase through her room to get to his. 

And, most importantly, that way he had somebody else he could talk to about his double life. He was going to need it if he’d indeed managed to establish a truce between the spellbinding women and ghosts. From what he’d told them, those sorceresses were vile. 

As she walked over a nearby table carrying a pile of books with both hands, Jazz couldn’t help but wonder how her little brother would handle the situation. 

.............

Danny was not handling the situation well.

Although, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. Lady Arcana’s own unwillingness to cooperate was a key factor in their stalemate. 

Even if they addressed each other formally and obvious jabs directed at their respective species were, thankfully, non-existent, the coldness between them that reigned during their first face-to-face interaction was now stronger than ever. 

Just like the last time, he’d sent Skulker to escort the queen and her entourageーwhich still consisted of the same two witches; talk about confidence…ー through the Ghost Zone up until they arrived at his lair’s throne room. They still pretended they were both honoured to be in each other’s presence even though Danny was sure the Witch Queen wished she could just spit at him as much as he did. 

And knowing Desiree, if she were near to grant her wish, a cascade of spit would rain down on him.

This time, however, Danny had ventured deeper inside his lair, with the witches close behind him. Figuring discussing over inter-dimensional safety in the middle of his throne room would be unwise, since one never knew who could be watching, he led his guests to the Council Room; where the Observants, Clockwork, and heーand occasionally Frostbite or any other ghost with a modicum of authorityーgathered to discuss political affairs regarding the Infinite Realms. 

Admittedly, he wanted to slap himself for not thinking about it sooner. 

Another thing that was different and he had failed to point out earlier was that, technically, the witches weren’t alone. No, there was nobody else besides the queen and her two...guards? ーcould he even call them guards?ー but they weren’t alone per se, either. 

The bespectacled, strawberry blonde one had a pet owl perched on her shoulder. The bird, Danny had to admit, was beautiful. Its plumage was predominantly white and cream. The white feathers were more noticeable in its belly and heart-shaped face, with most of its body and the top of its head looking rather creamy. The owl’s black orbs seemed not only capable of seeing in the dark, but also deep inside your soul. 

In other words, the girl’s pet was pretty, but creepy. And he had a feeling that would be a stable of these women. 

The Asian teenager seemed to prefer reptiles, and, yes, he based his hypothesis entirely on the fact that the girl had a bearded dragon around her neck as if she was wearing a scarf. Danny couldn’t tell what was creepier; the lizard’s naturally spiky, scale-covered body and its little tongue licking its eyeball, or the way the witch scratched her pet’s chin and cooed at it when she thought nobody was paying attention to her. 

“Well, it could be worse. She could buy herself a cat and name it after a married woman who will never love her back.” Danny had to physically restrain himself from shuddering at the thought. 

But the weirdest thing, of course, had to be Lady Arcana’s own companion. Which, again, he was sure was going to be a stable between them. At first he didn't even see her carrying anything, her form obscured by her cloak, but the moment they entered the Council Room ーalone; Lady Arcana had stationed her witches to guard the doors, just as he did the same with two of Walker’s goonsーand she made herself comfortable (or as comfortable as she’d ever be in enemy territory), he spotted it.

Had she really brought a potted plant with her all the way from the portal to his lair? And, now that he took a closer look, was that a carnivorous plant?

Scratch whatever he said about the teenager and her lizard. The way the plant nuzzled her face or wrapped itself around her forearm as she gently stroked its stem was ten times creepier. Although, a part of him couldn’t help but think she and Undergrowth would get along swimmingly. 

Two plant-loving psychos bonding with each other. Talk about a meet cute. 

But never mind their questionable taste for pets. They’d been discussing for over an hour and they were still at the starting point. Time was money and this woman was going to make him go bankrupt if they kept going like this. 

“Your Majesty, I understand the situation is quite...extraordinary, but I’m afraid we are still in need of a solution.” He tried for the umpteenth time that hour. 

The woman before him just sniffed in displeasure. It was a good thing they were separated by a rather large, rectangular table, otherwise, he might have leaned forward and wrung her little neck out of sheer exasperation. “I am perfectly aware of the situation, King Phantom. But, as I have informed you already, there is not much I can do if I do not know the cause of the portals opening.”

But that was precisely why he needed her help! Getting frustrated, Danny let out through gritted teeth, “Which I believe is precisely the reason why I need you here in the first place, my Lady. You are supposed to be able to discover the reason behind it.”

“Well, supposedly, these portals are a natural occurrence of the Ghost Zone. How is it possible that you do not know how to take care of the problem on your own?” She countered, matter-of-factly, and Danny would have given about anything to get her to shut up and do something useful instead. 

“Supposedly,” he echoed, “your people have the natural ability to surpass the laws that separate the Infinite Realms and Earth from each other, and hence, youーshouldーknowーhowーtoーcounterーit!” His voice raising in volume as he spoke, he made sure to punctuate that last part for emphasis. 

Narrowing her violet eyes at him in disdainーhow could he have ever thought they were beautiful?!ー, Lady Arcana spat. “Supposedly, that bond was tattered after your kind’s betrayal.”

If it weren’t for the audacity of her statement, he would’ve recoiled at the gravity and resentment etched into her words. Narrowing his own eyes at her, he leaned forward. “Trust me, your Majesty, you would be wise to keep your mouth shut; you are in no position to talk about betrayals.”

As her scowl deepened, teeth borne at him in anger, a low growl could be heard emanating from her throat. But Danny was not going to be intimidated that easily. Returning the intensity of her gaze, the two kept eye contact, initiating a staring contest born from frustration and distrust. 

Eventually, the Witch Queen averted her eyes, crossing her eyes in a huff as she leaned back on her chair. Her little plant reacted to her turmoil, for it hopped over to her ーwait, it hopped?!ーto get her attention. Noticing her weird-ass pet near her, the witch began to absent-mindedly caress its little, purple...head?

He was never eating a salad again in his life; he ought to let Tucker know he’d decided to join him in his carnivorous ways.

Leaning back against his own chair, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. They’d been at it for more than an hour and, rather than discuss a possible solution, all they’d done was argue. Sighing through his nose, he called out to her, an idea forming in his mind, “Hey.”

Taken aback by his sudden drop of formality, Sam looked over at him with a guarded expression. What was he up to? Rather than answering, she raised an interested eyebrow as a sign to go on. 

Danny took that raised eyebrow and her silence as permission to continue. “How about we drop the honorifics and formality for a while, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’m a rather laid-back person and having to address someone as if I was meeting the Queen of England tends to stress me out. And that by extension makes me much more prone to get defensive.”

Sam bit back her reply that she was, in fact, as much of a queen as the Queen of England, and that he should treat her as such.

“And let’s be real; getting defensive with each other is going to get us nowhere, don’t you agree? Besides, I’m already stressed out as it is due to a matter regarding a black hole forming, so I bet I’m not the most agreeable guy to be around right now.”

“No, you aren’t”, Sam was actually surprised Phantom shared her beliefs about formality and social distance. But that didn’t mean she was going to lower her guard around him. And his last words took her completely by surprise. “...did you just say ‘black hole’?”

“That’s not something you should concern yourself with.” He dismissed the question immediately.

Squinting her lavender eyes at him, her suspicions of any ulterior motives never quite going away, Sam gave in. “What are you getting at?”

At least she was listening to him. He was willing to count that as progress. Danny raised his palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, we don’t know for how long we’re gonna have to work together. So how about we’re at least casual with each other? Because, I don’t know about you, but all this higher register of speech is giving me a headache.”

As if to prove his point, Danny rose up in the air until he was comfortably floating about three feet high. As he leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head and one leg over the other, nothing would’ve wiped the smug look on his face as he looked down on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park, her own jaw hanging low in awe. 

Noticing the smugness radiating off of him in waves, the raven-haired girl forced her jaw shut. No way in Hell was she going to give him the satisfaction of amazing her. Even if she wasn’t going to say it aloud, Sam concurred with his point. Straightening her back, head held up high, she made sure to bruise his ego the same way he almost bruised hers. “Fine. Let’s drop the honorifics, I was tired of pretending I have any respect for you, anyway.”

Danny frowned at that. “Hey!”

“What? Do you seriously expect me to believe I’m not in immediate danger of being attacked by a ghost just for the mere fact of invading their turf? That you and your people actually respect mine?” Her voice was laced with cynicism as she scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

As much as Danny would’ve loved to contradict her, he knew he couldn’t. After all, he hadn’t just sent Skulker to escort them in fear they might get lost, the possibility of them being ambushed by vengeful ghosts was very real.

The raven-haired girl smiled triumphantly, knowing she had him right where she wanted him. “If it’s any consolation, if any of you so much as tried stepping foot, or ghostly tail, or whatever, into our territory, not a single one of us would hesitate to exorcise the Hell outta you.” Motioning to the door with her head, she added. “Susan in particular would have a blast.”

“Susan?”

“The teenager with the bearded dragon; Count Scalynton”

“‘Count Scalynton’?” Danny echoed in disbelief, before having to stifle a laugh with his gloved hand. Seeing the Witch Queen’s unamused stare, however, he sobered up. “And...uh...what about...the owl?”

“That’s Spooky.” Lady Arcana replied with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“And your little friend?” He asked hesitantly, pointing at the potted plant comfortably perched on its owner’s lap, but making sure his finger didn’t get too close; in fear of getting it bitten off. 

“Oh, this little guy?” Sam looked down at DeMilo with a fond smile. “His name’s DeMilo.”

“...are you serious?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No! No, no. Of course not! DeMilo is...uh, a great name.” He quickly assured her, sheepishly. The last thing he needed was to invoke her wrath, again. Clearing his throat, Danny decided it’d be best to change topics. “So...No honorifics?”

“No honorifics.” Lady  Arcana nodded from her chair. 

“Right. So, instead of ‘your Majesty’, ‘my Lord’, or ‘King Phantom’, you can just call me ‘Phantom’ and Iー”

“You can just call me ‘Lady Arcana.’” The Witch Queen cut him off with a tone that left no room for discussion. 

The white-haired young man slouched slightly at that. Just when he thought they were making progress, she closed herself off completely all over again. But he couldn’t afford displeasing her further, so he’d have to play by her rules...For now. “Right. Got it. So...about those portals?”

As he asked that, Phantom leaned forward to her, changing his position mid-air so his torso was facing now upside down but his head remained straight. As the Ghost King lowered his body so his forearms were atop the wooden table, an intrigued gaze directed at her, Sam deposited DeMilo on the table, her own hands resting on it. Locking eyes, they had each other’s undivided attention. 

Understanding they were back to business, Sam sighed tiredly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I need to know the cause behind the portals’ strange behaviour. If this is something that can be solved through magic, then it is imperative that we know what’s causing it to figure out the best course of action to take. The wrong spell could lead to disastrous consequences.”

“Like?” Phantom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Like sending the world to another dimension instead of closing a portal between dimensions.”

“I guess that makes sense. So how do we figure out the cause?”

“I can start by looking through this.” Sam offered as she, seemingly, got a book out of nowhere, Phantom’s eyes widening at the sight. The reddish-brown leathered book was the same one she used to open the portals to the Ghost Zone, which made it their safest bet for finding a solution. After all, if the book guarded almost forgotten knowledge on how to open inter-dimensional drifts, then it should have the answers to more mysteries, right?

...............

Outside the Council Room, on each side of the door, Stephanie and Susan were patiently waiting for their queen. Well, “patiently waiting” might have been an exaggeration. Stephanie was stiff as a board, while Susan looked like a furious guard dog, the murder in her eyes only cemented the picture. 

Both witches’ emotional state could only be attributed to one thing.

Ghosts. 

Or, to be more precise, the two police-dressed, green spirits they were forced to stand guard alongside because the Ghost King wasn’t about to be caught dead (pun not-intended) with three witches and no back-up.

As much as she hated it, Susan had to give the spook credit: he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought. 

The teenager kept stroking the length of Count Scalynton’s body, currently sprawled alongside her arm, as she pondered different ways to escape the Ghost King’s lair and his ectoplasmic, door-floating, bloodcurdling realm in case things went awry. 

Beside her, Stephanie was lovingly scratching Spooky’s beak in an attempt to calm  herself down. Looking over at the ghost-guard assigned to her, she squeaked and promptly looked away when the spectre, having felt her gaze on him, landed his blood-red, pupiless eyes on her. Gulping loudly, she whispered to Susan. “Do you think her Majesty will be frequently meeting Phantom from now on?”

Susan whispered back with a sneer. “I hope not! Miss Wilhelmina was right when she warned me against these putrid, soulless drones. We can’t lower our guards, especially not now that the queen needs us.”

Discreetly pointing with her head, the Asian girl guided her partner’s gaze to her hips. Lifting her red hoodie almost unnoticeably, the strawberry blonde’s eyes widened at the sight; two crossed, leather bandoliers were filled to the brims with an assemblage of jars containing colourful liquids. Stephanie’s jaw almost fell open in shock; the 17-year-old girl was armed to the teeth with potions!

Realising they weren’t alone and the dangers in their secret stash being found out, Stephanie tried to appear nonchalant. Pretending to be talking in general, she added. “I just hope her Majesty is safe.”

Susan gave her a wry smile. “Oh, trust me. Her Majesty will be fine even without our help.”

...............

As she skimmed the pages of the spellbook in search of more information on the portals, Sam kept looking over at Phantom, praying he hadn’t noticed anything unusual. 

As satisfying as it’d been seeing his bewildered face when she suddenly pulled the book off seemingly out of nowhere, the truth was she’d been carrying it with her under her skirt. But what she worried about was not him finding out about the book, but the other items her dress hid from plain sight. 

Strapped around her thigh was a black holster filled with potions. Unlike the arsenal Sam knew Susan had brought with her, which consisted of several offensive and highly corrosive concoctions, the queen’s own collection consisted mostly of Blinding Bombs. As the name indicated, it was a type of potion whose main purpose was to distract the opponent long enough to retreat or come up with a plan. If things went south, all Sam had to do was smash the jar against the ground and cover her eyes, for a small explosion of light would ensue and temporarily blind the spirits, giving her and her girls enough time to escape. 

As she leafed through the spellbook’s pages, she suddenly shivered, noticing a cold presence by her side sending shivers down her spine. What was even odder was the sudden smell of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Dumbfounded, she turned her face to the side and growled at the sight. Snapping the book closed and bringing it close to her chest, she snarled at Phantom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Taken aback by her sudden movements, Danny blinked. “Um, trying to help you?”

He had to be kidding her. “Come again?”

“I...uh...I just thought I could help you look for answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So I was trying to see if I could find anything useful in that book of yours.”

Oh, he definitely had to be kidding her. “No, thank you.” She turned him down, only thanking him out of politeness. She turned back to the book. “You’ll only drag us down, anyway.”

Danny was starting to get really frustrated with that all-knowing, condescending attitude of hers. Even his sister wasn’t as annoying despite her know-it-all tendencies. Hell, Skulker was easier to work with! Standing up in mid-air, using his leverage to stare her downーliterallyーhe folded his arms in front of his chest. “And how, pray tell, am I going to drag us down?”

He was surprised by the witch’s next action. Huffing loudly, she got up from her chair and shoved the book in his face quicker than he could blink. At first he had trouble registering what just happened (mostly because he was levitating a good three feet above her and she was still safely on the ground) until he took notice of the sparkly, purple mist surrounding theーfloatingーspellbook. He blinked in awe; so that’s how her magic looked like. Once the initial surprise had worn off, however, Danny had to admit, he was a little disappointed; he’d expected more than a floating book. 

Looking over the tome, he saw Lady Arcana staring intently at him. Instead of anger as he expected, however, an amused, knowing expression adorned her features. He might’ve thought she looked pretty hadn’t it been for the wickedness of her smile. 

“Read.” She instructed him. 

Danny did as he was told...only to furrow his brow in confusion. What the…? Reading over the pages he couldn’t make sense of anything written on them. The inked markings splattered all over couldn’t even be considered hieroglyphics! Squinting at the offending piece of paper, he tried reading aloud. “Spiral...lightning bolt...spork?...What kind of sick mind came up with this?!” 

Sam let out a hollow laugh. “You really think that if you were really able to read this book in the first place all by yourself, you’d even need to call for me?” She rolled her eyes at him, not knowing what to think; either this guy was messing with her head or he was an idiot. She motioned with her hand for the book to return to her “Limit yourself to keeping your subjects in line and let me handle this. Although, on second thought, I might actually be asking way too much of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The green-eyed ghost didn’t like where this was going. 

Still reading, Lady Arcana raised her palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, for a ghost that’s supposed to be the undisputable ruler of an entire race after having defeated a tyrant, you sure have a lot of detractors defying your authority.”

“Oh, please! Like you know anything about my subjects or any possible detractors.” Was it true he was often fending off ghosts who didn’t care for his laws to stay clear of Amity Park? Saying he didn’t occasionally get his ass handed to him would be like saying his parents took kindly to people who disrespect their jumpsuits, but he didn’t have to tell her that.

“I know more than enough.” Sam countered.

“Oh, yeah? Name one ghost who doesn’t respect my rule and still causes trouble.” The halfa challenged. What was he trying to get out of this? At least ¾ of his enemies screamed their names and evil plots whenever they were freed from the Ghost Zone! In Ember’s case, she literally depended on people knowing and chanting her name. 

“That poacher ghost of yours...what’s his name?”

A poacher ghost? Who the fuck was she talking aboー? “You mean Skulker?”

Sam perked up at that. “Yes, that one! He so obviously doesn’t respect your authority. I mean, he literally hunts you, the Ghost King, for sport almost every two weeks!”

An undignified sound escaped the halfa’s throat, but that was the last of his concerns at the moment. “Okay, first of all,” he started, raising one gloved finger, “he so totally respects my authority. Whenever I need help, he’s always willing to put the whole hunting-the-most-unique-specimen-ever aside for the greater good. And second,” he sent her a pointed look, floating closer to her. He revelled in the way she uncomfortably shrunk away from him; served her right, “Skulker’s not a poacher, he’s a hunter!”

“Does he have a permit or a hunting license?” Lady Arcana asked, not missing a beat.

That actually gave him pause. “Well...no, butー!”

“If a hunter hunts with no permit, then he’s a poacher!” Seriously, how dense could this dude be?

“You seem to be forgetting that Skulker is a resident of the Ghost Zone; my domain. Whatever laws are followed on Earth or among your kind, do not necessarily apply to us.”

“That outta shut her up,” he thought triumphantly.

“So you’re saying you’re okay with innocent creatures dying solely for the purpose of flattering one ghost’s ego?”

Well, apparently not. Danny spluttered at that. Who was this woman anyway, Jane Goodall?! “Whaー? No, of course not!” He vehemently denied before changing topics. This woman was about to get a taste of her own medicine. “But what’s with all these pointing fingers anyway?! I bet some of your ‘loyal’ witches also commit their own atrocities right under your nose.”

Oh, she was going to blast him into next Thursday for that! Standing up from her chair, Sam slammed her hands against the table (careful not to hurt or startle DeMilo, though). “For your information,” she snarled at the ghost before her, “the only huntress in my clan is Diana. And not only is she formidable, sheーalsoーhasーaーpermit!”

Fed up with the ridiculous conversation and the even more ridiculous woman, Danny slammed his own hands down on the table, even if he was floating. “Again with the permit! What’s with you and permits?! What are you, a cop?!”

“I’m a queen!” Sam all but roared. “So, yes, it is my job to ensure certain jobs are only trusted to people with permits!”

Danny was about to continue ranting, but he stopped himself. All this pointless fighting was only making them waste time, and they couldn’t afford that. He didn’t understand how she wasn’t already exhausted from all the arguing. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let himself fall back on his chair. “Let’s...let’s just keep on investigating. Forget I said anything.”

Sam was about to retort when she took notice of the white-haired ghost’s tired eyes, her own fatigue finally kicking in. Slumping her shoulders as she, too, fell back on her chair once again, she continued reading. “Yeah, sure. That’ll be for the best.”

They stayed in silence for a while after that. Lady Arcana reading intently, and Danny praying to all things above him that he’d be able to survive the day. Eventually, the Witch Queen broke the silence, slamming her book shut. His head snapping up at the sound, Danny dared to hope. “Any luck?”

The queen sighed. “I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

His heart sank. “The bad news,” he moaned pitifully. 

“Bad news is, there’s nothing in this book about what could possibly be causing the Ghost Zone to create more portals than usual. The most it has is the spell I use to get here, but that’s about it.”

Danny was convinced his heart was now lost somewhere along his knees. “And the good news?”

“This isn’t the only book that might have information on the Ghost Zone. When our people parted ways for good after you-know-what,” the look of resentment was back on her face and Danny didn’t know what to do; he should be the one feeling offended! “most of our knowledge was forgotten, but not lost.”

“Meaning?” He prompted her to finish her statement. 

“Meaning, there’s still probably many more books on the topic.” She finished. 

“Which means…” Danny began, only for the two of them to groan in dismay. As nice as it was that not everything was lost just because that particular book didn’t have the answers, having to look for another spellbook or grimoire meant they would have to keep meeting with each other. For Lady Arcana would never leave a precious heirloom belonging to her people out of her sight and in the Ghost Zone, and Danny couldn’t afford to take his eyes off of her in case she and her kind double-crossed them.

In other words, they were stuck with each other until further notice...He was starting to regret not being fully killed by the accident the day he got his powers.

[tracybirds]

The Aquarium

This one is technically written for @gumnut-logic‘s Sensory Sunday: Touch, but I began it over a month ago and slightly forgot what I had planned for it ahaha... I mean... I totally knew what I was doing, all along :DD I suspect it does not fulfill the prompt as well as the original but oh well :D

Gordon continues to explore the ocean, this time at the aquarium on a school trip :D

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

“Gordon, stay with the group!”

The warning pulled him back into the pack of school kids, resisting the lure of the underwater tunnel that lead into the depths of the aquarium. Mrs Anand had already called home once this month and although his Dad had turned an interesting colour as he listened to her, Gordon wasn’t keen to find out what would happen if he pushed his luck.

Hie jaw dropped as they walked into the exhibit. Brightly painted walls stood out  between glass tanks containing creatures big and small. A large smiling shark propped up on his tail welcomed the class to the Eugenie Clark Discovery Center.

Eagerly, Gordon wormed his way to the front of the group, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Woah.”

The word was whispered with a reverent awe as he spied the open pool in the centre of the room.

Dark rocks surrounded the sharp corners of the glass, the clear water filled with all manner of animals, like a perfect cross section of a rock pool.

He stretched his hand out towards the glass, eyes full of the gently waving fronds of the anemone.

“Gordon, don’t touch!”

He whipped his hand behind his back and stared up at his teacher innocently.

“Well now, that’s one he can get his hands into,” said the cheerful guide, winking at Gordon with a grin and ignoring the dirty look his teacher sent his way. Gordon grinned back at him.

“Welcome everyone, it’s nice to see so many happy faces. Have we been looking forward to this trip?”

Gordon’s voice crowded out the excited chorus. He’d been waiting weeks for this moment, ever since they’d been told the topic for the term would be the Oceans of the World. When the rest of the class was practicing multiplication, he’d been skip counting schools of fish; when they wrote in their journals about family memories and pets, he’d told stories about his dream of living underwater. He’d lapped up every ounce of information on the subject, skidding through page after page of supplementary data on marine life as his teacher droned at the front about the difference between sharks and dolphins.

“I’m Ben, your marine educator for the day, and I thought we’d start by introducing my favourite creature here at the Eugenie Clark Discovery Center.”

An excited whisper rippled through the class as they edged closer.

Ben brought them to the far corner where a tank three times his height stretched from floor to ceiling.

“Any guesses as to what’s inside?”

“A shark!”

“A turtle!”

“A squid!”

“No, but that last one was close,” said Ben, smiling at Gordon. “I’ll give you a hint, it has eight–”

“Octopus!!”

Gordon jumped up and down as he shouted his new answer, drinking in the delighted laugh of their guide. His teacher’s warning glare to rein it in barely registered as Ben offered him a high five.

“Good job, little man,” he said cheerfully. “What’s your name?”

“Gordon.”

“Well, Gordon, do you want to come up and hold the shrimp for me?”

“Yeah!”

Goosebumps ran up his arms as he held tightly to the ice-packed bag. Condensation ran down his arms as he craned his neck to get the best view of Ben coaxing the octopus into the light.

A gasp rippled through the crowd of eight year olds as the first tentacles creeped from the shadows.

Gordon’s eyes widened. He hardly listened to the brief Ben was giving to the class, too full of the sight of the Giant Pacific Octopus that lazily pulled itself forwards with its tentacles, strutting to and fro’ with billowing webs as though it enjoyed the attention. Every now and then, Ben would reach out hit hand and Gordon would pass over a handful of shrimp for the octopus to feast on.

“They’re really intelligent creatures and they need a lot of stimulation.”

One of his classmates, Carina, gasped as the octopus vanished from view.

“Where did it go?”

Ben smiled and beckoned her towards the tank. He crouched down and pointed at the tank floor.

“Look carefully,” he said. “Can you see her?”

Carina peered into the apparently empty tank.

“No, I – oh, wait! By the rock!” She shook her head in confusion. “Wait… it is the rock?”

Gordon had seen it too, the slight flicker of movement that betrayed the octopus’ near perfect camouflage.

“Good job, you found her.” He raised his voice slightly, looking back at the class. “Alright everyone, come up a few at a time and take a look. Stay quiet though, she does know you’re there and will start showing off again in a few moments. And then you can have some time to explore the other displays.”

The class shuffled eagerly forward and Ben stepped back and stood next to Gordon.

“Thank you for your help there,” he said taking the shrimp from Gordon’s arms. “Do you like octopuses too?”

“Yup,” said Gordon. “But I like the whales the best.”

“Well, you won’t see any of those here, I’m afraid.”

“I know.” He looked up at Ben and wrinkled his nose. “They wouldn’t be happy anyhow.”

“You’re right about that,” agreed Ben. He fell silent, watching the slow dispersion of students as they drifted away from the octopus tank in small groups, the chatter increasing the further they got from their starting point.

Gordon also wanted to talk. He was bursting with questions about octopuses, and whales, and sea cucumbers, parrotfish, sharks, crabs, sea snakes, and every other creature that floated into his head. But Mrs Anand had taken him aside that morning and told him, gently but firmly, that he wouldn’t be able to monopolise their guide’s time, that he needed to think carefully and choose only three questions to ask.

With so many to choose from, Gordon found he was struck dumb.

“Did you want to take a look at the Rocky Shore display, Gordon?” Ben asked kindly.

“No! I mean, yeah, but also…” Gordon took a deep breath, his eyes landing on the Touch Pool at the centre of the display Ben was indicating towards. “Does it hurt starfish if you touch them?”

“As long as you don’t try to pick them up and are gentle, it’s fine,” said Ben. “We only put the tough adults in the pool, and you can just stroke their back.”

“Okay then.” He ran off to the pool and plunged his hands into the warm water, feeling for the creatures with hands that were gentle and sure. His loud voice carried across the room, helping his classmates identify the animals under their fingertips.

Mrs Anand sidled up to Ben and smiled.

“He’s taken a liking to you,” she observed. “I’m sorry if he’s being a bother.”

“No problem at all,” assured Ben, still watching him. “It’s always more fun when you have kids excited about the ocean.”

“Well, he is that.”

“He reminds me of myself as a kid,” said Ben with a grin. “Never grew out of it and look at me now.”

She laughed. “You may find you have a virtual shadow then. Do you have any junior volunteer programmes? His father wants him to get more involved in extra curriculars, and this might do the trick.”

“Unfortunately not,” said Ben, shaking his head. “But I do run swimming lessons on Thursdays in the local pool, and as they get older we start them on their diving certifications. Maybe that would work?”

“I’ll let Mr Tracy know.”

[rocketjams]

The Last Goodbye

[UWU] Read on Ao3

Pairing: Bokuto x Kuroo

Word Count: 4008

For Bokuroo Week, Day One: Supernatural.

“Is it true?” Bokuto asked, not daring to meet Kuroo's gaze.

“Yeah,” Kuroo nodded, twiddling his thumbs together. “It's the best thing I can do right now.”

“But Hokkaido? You have to go that far?”

“My mom spent a lot of time finding this doctor. If there's any hope in healing my legs, it's there.”

Bokuto pushed himself off the bench and walked out to the center court, “We haven't even been in college for a year? Hell! The season hasn't even started! Why?! Why did this-” Bokuto's voice began to crack. “Why did this have to happen to us?”

“You mean me?”

“What?”

“This happened to me.” Kuroo said, reaching down to roll wheels on his chair forward. “I was the one that tried to save the kid that day. I'm the one that got hit. You, you can still play.”

“What use is playing if not together?!” Bokuto snapped. “We've waited for this moment for so long and now we might never get to-”

“Hey!” Kuroo yelled. “I don't know what is you're thinking but I plan on making a full recovery. Just watch, I'll be back on the court in no time.”

Bokuto finally tore his eyes away from the court, glancing back at his black haired friend. “How do you know though?”

Kuroo swallowed hard, before gazing up at Bokuto with a tight lipped smile. “Because I don't have any other option, if I remember correctly we promised to play side by side, right? To become the best."

“But none of that matters now if-”

“Hell if it doesn't!” Kuroo countered. “You better enjoy your time as limelight while you can before I get back. Cause once I get back all eyes are going to be on me!”

Bokuto stared at his friend in shock for a moment before laughter spilled from his lips, “Whatever! You think just because you're good looking you can out do me.”

“I don't think, I know so!”

Laughter soon echoed throughout the gym, though it wasn't a playful laughter nor was it cynical, it was ironic. Life had taken the worst possible outcome and made it a reality. The dream they had and plans they made were falling apart from the seams but all they could do was laugh in the face of such disaster. Trying their best to mask their pain and disappointment.

As the laughter slowly came to a stop, Kuroo glanced down at his legs; both had been shattered completely because of the accident. He knew full well there was like than a 15% chance he would ever walk again, let alone play. But he wanted to believe, believe that there was a chance that even against all odds he could one day stand on the court again beside Bokuto.

“Let go all the way to the top! Just me and you.”

Bokuto's own words echoed in his head as his heart began to drown in guilt, knowing for a fact that he would never be able to keep that promise he made all those months ago. Yet as painful as is was to bare such guilt, the thought of the pain it would bring Kuroo kept it bay.

“When are you leaving?” Bokuto finally spoke up, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

“Tomorrow.”

“That soon, huh?”

“Well the sooner I get there, the sooner I can leave.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

Kuroo looked at his friend with soft eyes, it was obvious that Bokuto was trying hard to maintain a brave face despite the circumstances. No matter how they looked at it, nothing about this situation was gonna be easy for them.

“Hey before I leave I-” Kuroo’s words were stopped short at the sound of his phone ringing. “Sorry one second.”

Bokuto nodded watching as he answered the call, “Hello?”

…

“Yeah.”

…

“I’m at the school.”

…

“Yeah I’m with Bokuto.”

…

“Alright, alright I hear you. I’ll be home soon.”

Kuroo ended the call with a sigh, “That was my mom. She wants me to go home and help pack.”

“Well you better go and don’t worry about this place, okay? Just focus on getting better.”

“I’m not worried about here, this place is probably going to be the exact same when I get back. I’m worried about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah like what if you mess up and the first thing I have to do when I get back is pull the team out of a losing streak.”

Bokuto’s jaw dropped, “Like hell that would happen!”

Kuroo laughed again but for some reason couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling that was building in his stomach.  “Sure if you say so. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. Just call me every once in a while would you?”

“Oh,” Bokuto reached up grabbing the back of his head. “Uh I’ll try, no promises though okay? Like I said, focus on getting better.”

Why do you keep saying that?  Kuroo tried to hide the hurt in his eyes as he nodded, “Alright. Well I’ll guess I’ll be going.”

“Okay.”

Kuroo though not exactly prepared to leave started to make his way towards the exit. His uneasiness only growing with every inch.

“Hey Tetsu,” Bokuto said suddenly, causing Kuroo to stop just before the door.

“Yeah?”

Bokuto swallowed hard, not exactly sure what it was he wanted to say, “Uh, Thank you.”

“Thank you? What are you thanking me for?”

“Nothing much.” Bokuto shrugged. "I'm just glad to have you in my life."

Kuroo’s eyebrows knitted together as his head tilted off to the side. “Um, thank you too. I guess?”

Bokuto smiled wide and nodded, “Make sure to take care of yourself.”

Kuroo paused before nodding along in agreement, “Alright.”

Once he was sure Kuroo was gone, Bokuto fell to the gym floor. His legs having gave out, the weight of the guilt being to much to carry. Breathing heavily, he reached up and gripped his chest. “Why didn’t I tell him?”

*Three Years Later*

Kuroo gripped his cane tightly as he stood in front of the large gym doors. It had been so long since he last seen this place. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. And while he didn’t expect anyone to be there on a early Sunday morning, just the possibility that he could be seen, no matter how small was enough to unnerve him. And the thought of possibly running into him, was enough to make his stomach twirl around like ballerinas. Kuroo hadn't talk to or seen Bokuto in two years; not because they had a falling out or because he didn't want to but because life had naturally gotten in the way. With Bokuto focused on school and Kuroo on treatment, time naturally got away from them both.

“Do you want me to go in with you?”  Kenma asked.

“No, I want to do this by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Kenma shrugged. “I’m gonna go wait by the car. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Kuroo watched as Kenma disappeared towards the parking lot before turning back to the door and taking a deep breath, “Here goes nothing.”

As he stepped inside the gym's lights turned on automatically making it obvious was alone. No surprise there.  I was just him and the volleyball net which stood center court.

“Did no one take it down?” He thought aloud as he walked towards it.

It was strange, being there again after so long. However, Kuroo could still remember everything about this place and the memories it held. From the first time he and Bokuto had stepped onto the court for tryouts to the day they said the last goodbye; all of it was crystal clear. Reaching the center of the court Kuroo extended his free hand before grabbing hold of the net. This net was no doubt different from the last time he was there, a new one all together probably but still somewhat familiar.

Letting out a sigh, Kuroo glanced around the gym once more and then looked down at his legs. This was not the way he wanted to return home. Though his legs had healed and due to almost two years of physical therapy Kuroo had successfully regained the ability to walk. Granted he still needed a cane to support his weight but anything was better than the wheelchair he had been condemn to for all that time. However, being on the court after everything that happened was still hard. All Kuroo wanted was to play again, to be free and jump high above the net once more. But it was hopeless now.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” A familiar voice called out.

Kuroo glanced up to see tall figure standing at the other edge of the court.

“Bokuto? Is that you?” Kuroo asked, recognizing his voice almost immediately.

“You caught me.” Bokuto laughed as he stepped out of the shadows.

“When did you-” Kuroo glanced around the room.

“It's been awhile,” Bokuto said walking towards the center of the court as well. “How have you been?”

“Um, well I'm alive. I got that much going for me.”

Bokuto chuckled, “Well life's only good if you're actually living it, what's wrong? I thought you would be happy to see me.”

Kuroo shrugged, casting his gaze aside. Bokuto's sudden presence had thrown him into a state of confusion and his overt friendliness which seemed to presume up the intimacy they once shared didn't make it any easier.

“Hey, come on. Say something.”

“Like What?”

“Hmm, I don't know, anything is fine. I just miss your voice.”

“My voice?”

“Yeah-Oh I know!” Bokuto exclaimed. “My name. Say my name.”

Kuroo lifted one of his eyesbrows upward as he stared at Bokuto for a few seconds, unsure as to what had compelled him to say such a thing.

“Bokuto?” Kuroo said in an unsure tone of voice.

“No, my name.”

“Koutarou?”

“Close, I'm talking about the one you gave me.”

Kuroo pondered for a moment. Confused at first as to what it was Bokuto was getting at but soon out of nowhere it was like everything clicked. “Kou?”

It was a nickname, Kuroo had given him in retaliation to the recurring Tetsu nickname everyone had decided on.

Bokuto let out a small laugh, “Ahh yes that's so refreshing. Man, I missed you.”

A slight shade of pink bad dyed Kuroo's cheeks as he averted his gaze once again. “Well, I guess I missed you too.”

Bokuto smiled and glanced down at Kuroo's cane, “Why don't we go take a seat on the bleachers?”

“No!” Kuroo shouted suddenly. “I mean- I'm fine. Really. I want to stand.”

Bokuto stared at his friend for a while before nodding, “Okay that's fine. Let's stand then.”

“Sorry,” Kuroo relented. “I don't mean to be rude."

"You're not being rude."

"I guess it's just hard for me to see you like this after so long. It's not how I imagined us meeting up again. To be honest I only wanted to see you again once I was healed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I thought that you’d come to my home. Or I’d run into you on the street. Maybe look you up, when I was ready."

“I don't think there's anything wrong with us seeing each other now. You look fine to me.”

“Come on,” Kuroo said, a small crack in his voice. “You can obviously see that I'm far from healed.”

“Yeah but I mean you're walking.”

“Barely.”

“It's better than nothing.”

“But-”

Bokuto looked at Kuroo with soft eyes, “But what?”

“Nothing. I just don't get it.”

“Get what?”

“You?”

“Me?!” Bokuto said, surprised at the sudden accusation.

“Yeah! Why are you so clam and accepting of this. Aren't you suppose mad at me right now?”

“Why would I be made at you?!”

Kuroo stopped for a split second, his words stumbling. “Be-Because I, I um, I broke my promise. It’s been almost three years now and I'm still nowhere near being able to play again.”

Silence fell between the two boys once more but this time it was different. This time, it felt deliberate. Kuroo's lips pressed into a firm line as he waited for Bokuto's response and after what felt like forever he finally spoke. “I don’t think I have the right to be upset.”

“What’s that’s suppose mean?”

“Well I didn’t necessarily keep my promise either.” Bokuto admitted. “I told you we were gonna go to the top, and obviously that never happen.”

“But that’s not your fault!” Kuroo defended.

“Yeah but even after you left; I was suppose to go on and play for the both of us and yet, I couldn’t even do that.”

Kuroo wore a puzzled expression as he pressed for more information, “What do you mean?”

Bokuto’s eye twitched involuntarily at the corner, his mouth forming a rigid grimace as his arms folded tightly across his broad chest all the while staring at Kuroo. Almost as if he was contemplating what to say next.

“Just spit it out already,” Kuroo groaned. “You’re kind of scaring me.”

“Sorry I just don’t know how to say this,” Bokuto relented. “Also I really think you should sit down.”

“Tell me to sit down one more time. I dare you.”

“Okay, Okay.” Bokuto said, putting his hands up. “It's just I meant to tell this a long time ago, but there was never a good time and aft-”

“Bokuto!” Kuroo snapped. “Quit stalling.”

“Right.” The gray haired boy nodded, taking one last deep breath. “I’m sick.”

“Sick?”

“Yeah, it's kind of a long story but it started a few weeks before we graduated.” Bokuto began to explain. “I had a really bad pain in the upper part of my stomach. I tried to ignore it but it started to hurt my back too after awhile. So my mom took me to get examined, I assumed that I had probably just pulled something.”

Kuroo felt his heart drop in his stomach as Bokuto continued, “But after the examination, they called us a few days later and told my mom I needed to go back to the hospital as soon as possible.”

A brief moment of silence filled the air as Bokuto took a deep breath before going on, “They said a small tumor had formed on my pancreas. But they were confident that with treatment, I would be alright. We all thought that we had caught it early enough.”

A lump formed in Kuroo throat. No, this-

“Remember that trip I took the month before our first semester started?”

Closing his eyes tight to keep any tears from forming, Kuroo nodded his head. “Yeah. You and your parents went to Korea to celebrate your graduation.”

“Yeah, well that was pretty much a lie. The real reason we had gone was for a surgery. My dad found a really good doctor there so we flew out to Korea with hoping they could fix it or..me.” Bokuto clasped his hands together, setting his chin atop them. “But during the surgery they ended up finding out that things were a lot worse than originally thought.”

“Wh-,” Kuroo felt his chest tighten as it became hard to breath. “Why didn’t you tell me anything.”

“I was going to, really I was. But first I wanted to get through the season. I mean I had made all those promises but it was becoming more and more evident that I wouldn’t be able to keep them. So I was really banking everything on our first season.” Bokuto defended, his voice weakening with each word he spoke. “But then the accident happened and you were already devastated enough, how could you tell me I was suppose to add to that? Plus I just wanted you to focus on getting better.”

“Don’t you dare use me as an excuse!” Kuroo said firmly. “You’re literally dying! What I’m going through doesn’t even begin to compare!”

“Well regardless I knew that if you knew, you would want to stay! And I didn't want that. I wanted you to focus on getting better.”

“So what! That was your decision to make! It was mine.”

“That’s the point, I didn’t want you to have to make that decision. You are more important.”

The tears Kuroo had been holding back threatened to fall, and he turned his back to Kuroo. “I-I think I need to leave. This is a lot and I’m gonna need time to process it all.”

Bokuto nodded, “Go ahead. Though I don’t think I have much left to give you.”

Kuroo’s hands balled into fists. “Well whose fault is that?!”

Not saying anything else, Kuroo took off towards the door as fast as his legs would carry him. Why did it have to be like this?!

“Tetsu,” Bokuto called out for last time.

Kuroo froze just before the threshold and a sudden wave of nostalgia coming over him as remember the events from three years prior. “What?”

“No matter what happens, I just want you to know I love you.”

Kuroo lip began to quiver uncontrollably like a child that had been pushed past endurance. He had always dreamed of this day, of this confession. But it wasn't suppose to happen like this. “Why are you telling me that now? Stupid.” Kuroo said before gathering up all the strength he had left, and leaving. Not even sparing a single glance to the man who had just confessed to him.

Outside in the parking lot, Kenma waited patiently against the back of his car.

Maybe I should of stayed with him? He pondered. Though just as he began to consider the idea of going in his phone began to vibrate as Akaashi’s picture flashed across the screen.

“Hello?” Kenma answered.

“Hey, what are you up to? Have you picked up Kuroo yet?”

“Yeah, I got him an hour or two ago.”

“That long ago? What have you been doing?”

“He wanted to go to the university.”

“The university? Why?”

“Who knows.”

“Have you told him yet?”

A dark cast came over Kenma’s face as he hesitated before speaking, “No I haven’t. I think I’m gonna wait a few days so he can get settled first.”

“A well I think it would be good if you took him to see him,” said Akaashi. “I just went a few day’s ago and it was nice. I felt a lot better after I went.”

“Yeah, that might be good. Where’s he at again?”

“Nagoyama.”

“Can you text me the address?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to come too? I feel bad leaving you to tell him.”

“No I think the less peop-” Midway through his sentence, Kenma spotted a teary eyed Kuroo making his way towards the car. “Hey I’m going to call you back later.”

“Alright.”

Hanging up the phone Kenma walked over to Kuroo, “Hey are you alright?”

“Let’s just go.” Kuroo mumbled as he walked past Kenma and towards the car.

“Hey,” Kenma repeated, grabbing Kuroo by the wrist. “What happened?! Talk to me.”

Kuroo remained silent, his own thoughts still swirling with confusion. “I don’t know how to talk about it.” He admitted. “Just nothing makes sense. He really played me, that jerk.”

“Who played you?”

“Bokuto!” Kuroo barked. “That stupid, no good idiot!”

At this point, the amount of tears pouring down Kuroo’s cheeks had increased ten fold. Kenma’s hand released Kuroo’s wrist and dropped off to the side, his own heart breaking at the sight of his friend’s broken demeanor.

“What do you mean?” Kenma asked shakily, a small chill having gone down his spine.

“He's dying. Like actually dying but never had the balls to tell me.” Kuroo explained. "Can you believe that?"

“What?”

“Yeah!” Kuroo exclaimed. “And to think he had the nerve to come up to me and act like it wasn’t a big deal. That he didn’t tell me because he had my best interest in mind. What a load of shit!”

“He came up to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“In the gym. He’s probably still there now.”

The hair around them became cold as a sudden weight laid atop Kenma’s chest. “But that’s impossible?”

With a small sniffled Kuroo looked at his friend in complete bafflement, “What’s impossible?”

“That you saw Bokuto.”

“No it’s not. He’s there go see for yourself.”

Kenma shook his head, “Get in the car.”

“What?”

“You heard.” Kenma said as he walked over and got into the driver's seat.

Though confused, Kuroo didn’t have any other options but to do as he was told. Pulling out of the university parking lot, Kuroo wiped his tears. Now concerned for his friend. “Where are we going?”

Kenma shook his head, “You’ll see.”

Kuroo sat back in his seat, slightly alarmed by his best friend change in demeanor. After a long ride, the car came to a stop. Kenma turned to Kuroo with cold eyes.

“What is it man?” Kuroo asked.

“At the school, are you sure it was Bokuto you saw?”

“Look my legs might of been broken but I’m not blind.”

“It's just that's not possible.” Kenma said, his eyebrows knitting together as he spoke.

“List-”

“No. Kuroo that's not possible because-” Kenma paused for a moment then continued. “Bokuto died last year.”

“What?” Kuroo asked. “No that can't be. I was just talking to him.”

“I'm telling you that's impossible,” Kenma spoke softly, hemis eyes peering into Kuroo's. “Watch get out of the car and follow me.”

Following behind Kenma, Kuroo noticed a large sign coming into view. Nagoyama Cemetery.

Both boys walked down a long dirt trail, passing various different headstones along the way before coming to a complete stop.

“He's over there.” Kenma said pointing at a headstone less than 10 feet away.

Kuroo glanced at his friend then back at the headstone. This couldn't be true. Could it?

“Before his death Bokuto begged everyone not to tell you until you were fully recovered.” Kenma explained. “But it's impossible given what you were saying earlier.”

Kuroo stepped closer to the headstone and Kenma's voice gradually faded into the distance, “I didn't plan on telling you this way and I don't know what you think you saw but it wasn't Bokuto.”

Stepping in front of the grave, Kuroo could read the world boldly engraved into the headstone.

Koutarou Bokuto

September 20th, 1998 to November 13th, 2018

Loving Son and Friend

A sudden hole appeared in Kuroo's heart and salty tears began to flow unchecked from his eyes as the harsh reality took hold of his soul threatened to engulf him entirely. His legs buckled, knees sinking into the ground as he stared at the tombstone. His mind was in shambles, still trying to comprehend what happened. Nothing felt real, it didn't make sense. He was so sure that Bokuto had just been standing right before him yet such a thing was just as Kenma said -- impossible.

Was it a ghost? Or all in his head? Had he perhaps gone insane?

Kuroo's confusion slowly dissipated into sadness as tears continued to embrace his eyes, making the letter's on Bokuto's headstone blur together. Waves of pain washing over him, his chest convulsing with each one. "You idiot!" Kuroo screamed, banging his fist atop the headstone.

He screamed again and again until there was nothing left inside of him but a black hole that slowly ate at his heart like deprived animal. Reality only continued to seep in, reminding Kuroo that he never got to tell Bokuto he loved him, not even once. He didn’t get the chance to hold him close, before he slipped away.

Gripping his chest, Kuroo pressed his forehead to the ground, it was cold but he didn't care because nothing would change the fact that this was as close as he would ever be able to get to him again. “I wish I would've known that was the last goodbye.” Kuroo spoke to the ground. “So I could of told you, I love you too.”

[hairringtonsteve]

two ships passing in the night, part iii.

(billy hargrove x reader)

summary: all in all, it’s not the awkwardest christmas eve ever, but it’s up there. really up there. complete with a threatening billy and annoyed steve!

request: a ton of people. like, a ton of people.

word count: 5, 824

a/n: Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and Merry Sunday if you don’t! Or Monday, depending on your timezone. This is it, the final installment of the series that I didn’t mean to become a series. brief mentions of abuse.

part i. part ii. 

Before you’d gotten close with the Party, Christmas Eve had meant some family time at your aunt’s house, watching as your cousins made racist remarks and drank too much.

Now, though, things were different. Christmas Eve meant everyone heading to your house to have a holiday themed DnD session, starting early in the afternoon and lasting until it was finished (or until everyone had to go home).

This year, though, things were different. Very, very different.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dustin spat out, staring at you. It was Christmas Eve Eve, and the entire lot of them were gathered in your living room, save for Steve, who’d gotten stuck with the night shift at the station since he’d lost his badge yet again.

“Language,” you murmured, your focus more on picking at the stray strings coming up from the pillow than the group of teens staring at you.

“Lan- Come on, Y/N! What are you thinking? He’s a criminal, he went to jail!” Mike said. Most of the group agreed, save for Max and El.

“They let him out.” Max waved her hands in the air as she spoke, giving Mike the glare that was reserved solely for him. “He’s trying, guys. He’s still a dick, but he’s trying,” she continued. Lucas offered her a faint smile, but it faded as Dustin spoke up once more.

“Are we forgetting that he attacked a member of our party, and beat the ever-living shit out of Steve?” Flashes of Steve’s face, battered and bloody, drifted through your mind. Your stomach clenched at the thought. It had happened, and you weren’t going to make excuses for that. But he was different, you knew that.

“Does Steve even know that you invited him?” Will asked, settling beside you on the couch. You let out a sigh, allowing yourself to look at everyone before ducking your head.

“I’m going to tell him. He’s just… He’s Steve. He’s upset enough with me for even talking to him.” You could feel Max’s gaze boring into you, and you wondered if Billy had said anything to her about that night. It had been a week since then, and the only time you’d seen him was in the grocery store two days ago. He’d followed you around the store, smiling faintly the entire time. The only thing that he’d even brought up about that night had been making sure that you were serious about him being there for Christmas.

“At least you didn’t do anything really stupid, like make out with the guy,” Mike muttered, shaking his head as he headed off into the kitchen. You could feel yourself heating up, starting with your neck, the redness creeping up to your cheeks and then your ears.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Dustin yelled. He threw his hands in the air, staring wide-eyed at you. “Did you really make out with him?” There was a hysterical note to his voice and it made your stomach sink.

“Dustin, that’s none of your-”

“You’re - you’re whoring yourself out to the enemy!”

“I am not whoring myself out to the enemy! I’m not whoring myself out to anyone! I’m an adult! I can choose who I consensually make out with, dumbass. And how many girls have you made out with, Henderson? You don’t hear me bitching to you about them.”

“That’s because none of them beat the shit out of my dad!”

“I hurt Lucas and you forgave me.” El’s voice chimed in, her softness contrasting the frustration that was emanating from Dustin. The young Henderson grew quiet as he glanced over to her, his shoulders deflating.

“That was different, El. Mike and Lucas had been fighting and you -”

“And Neil was beating the shit outta Billy at the time. That doesn’t make it right, but it makes sense of some stuff. Neil beat Billy that night because I snuck out. If I hadn’t snuck out, he wouldn’t have gotten hit and he wouldn’t have gone after Lucas or Steve,” Max said. Her words were coming out slow and sure. “But if you hadn’t kept Dart and let him grow bigger, then I wouldn’t have had to sneak out and on and on and on.” She tilted her head, fixing Dustin with a frown. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

Mike was leaning against the doorway, a mug of hot chocolate held in his hands as he watched everyone else. El glanced over to him, watching as he gave her a small nod of his head.

“I mean, I-” Dustin started, only to be interrupted by El.

“He’s coming to Christmas, then.”

You’d been avoiding your phone all morning. It was easier to work at getting your family out of the house than it was to answer the phone and listen to Steve screech at you for just thrusting Billy Hargrove upon him.

Apparently, one of the little shits had blabbed and ruined your perfectly good plan of having Billy show up at the door and deal with the two of them then.

Around eleven, the house was quiet. Your parents had vacated to head to your aunt’s, while your older siblings had gone to hang out with some old high school friends. There wasn’t really much to do since your mom had gone on a full cleaning spree the day before, claiming that the house needed to be in pristine condition for Santa.

By noon the party had arrived and settled in, clearing your dining room table off so they could set up everything. Steve had taken to pacing in the kitchen, alternating between glaring at you and shoving cookies into his mouth.

“You better watch it, Harrington. One more cookie and you’re really going to nail that stereotypical cop look,” you said, smirking at him.

“Why don’t you worry about your boyfriend’s body, hm? He probably needs to work his ass off to keep in shape,” he muttered through a mouth full of sugar cookie.

“He’s not my boyfriend and you know that.”

“That’s not what Dustin says.”

“Dustin also said that I was whoring myself out to him. Are you really going to trust him?”

“He what? Jesus - Dustin! What’d we talk about, huh? Stop using the word whoring. You sound like an asshole.” Your heart warmed at the sight of Steve’s scowl. It was nice to know that despite his annoyance with you, he was still sticking up for you. His expression softened a little as he glanced over to you, only to harden at the knocking on the door.

You gave a cursory glance over the kitchen and dining room. Max and Lucas were leaning against each other, watching as Mike and Dustin bickered over the tabletop setup. El was reheating some pizza as Will told her some cheesy joke, and Steve was… Not there.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, darting towards the front door. You were too late, though. Steve was opening the door, shoulders squared off like he was about to hit someone. Billy chuckled, a low sound that traveled straight down your spine. It took you back to the other night, the two of you cuddled up on the couch, him chuckling against your skin.

“Well, if it isn’t King Steve. You mind stepping aside?” The venom that had once permeated a younger Billy’s voice was gone, but the annoyance was still there, loud and clear. Steve didn’t move an inch. “Look, man, Y/N invited me over and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want either of us being dicks, yeah? So just move.”

“Make me, dipshit.” You couldn’t tell exactly what Billy’s reaction to that was, but he stepped forward, filling the doorframe, and that’s when you butted in.

“Hey, Billy!” You said, your voice bright as you stepped forward, laying a hand on Steve’s chest and giving him a gentle push. “Thanks for coming over.” You didn’t miss the way that Billy’s gaze lingered on your hand.

“Oh, uh, no problem. Thanks, for uh, inviting me,” he said, his voice softening considerably as he finally looked down at you.

“You ready for some DnD?”

“I actually have no idea how to play.”

“Don’t worry about it. If Steve could figure it out, so can you.” Steve let out a snort behind you, mumbling something under his breath that you didn’t catch. You heard his footsteps retreat, and suddenly it was just you and Billy. “You gonna close the front door?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he said, stepping inside so he could close the door. It was quiet as it clicked into place. He looked down at you, his lips pressed together into a small smile. “So, I got you something for Christmas. It’s nothing big, but I just… Yeah.”

“Billy, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” The words hung in the air, eventually settling deep in your stomach. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out a small box with a bow on it. ���You said in the grocery store the other day that coffee kept you up at night. I, uh, I thought that this might help out if I ever come over for coffee again.” He held out your favorite kind of tea, a nervous sort of grin on your face.

“When you come over for coffee again,” you corrected, fingers brushing against his as you took it from him. “How’d you know that this was my favorite?”

“That night at the diner, you were complaining about all the crap kinds of tea. You said this kind, though, was the good kind.” His cheeks were a little red at the admission, and you were determined to burn that image into your memory.

“Thanks, Billy.” You glanced behind you, making sure that no one was in view before rolling up to the tips of your toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. When you pulled away, the redness had increased. “Come on, man. We’ve got some…” You faltered, trying to remember just what Mike had said the campaign was about. “Some weird monsters to kill.”

You led him into the kitchen, trying to ignore the way that everyone fell silent as Billy stepped into the room.

“Hey, loser,” Max called, offering him a faint smile. Billy returned it for a moment, looking away within seconds. Max made sure to glare at every single member of the party when Billy looked away, giving them a sort of silent warning.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“I’ve told you like, twelve times, Y/N. There’s a cult in the forest near town that are kidnapping people, and it’s up to you guys to stop them.”

“A cult? I thought that Dungeons and Dragons was all monster fighting. Like, those, uh, what were they?” Billy thought for a moment, wracking his brain as he tried to come up with the answer. “Some guys back in California played, and they fought - they fought demogorgons! That’s what it was.”

Everyone in the room froze. Billy looked around, furrowing his brow at everyone. His gaze rested on you, leaning forward a little in question.

“We, uh, we don’t fight demogorgons anymore. Dustin got so freaked out during a campaign once because of them that he cried a little,” Lucas said, his words practically tumbling over themselves.

“I did not!” Dustin yelled, and just like that, they were back to bickering and sniping at each other. You caught Billy’s eye and nodded towards the table. It was a little crowded. The dining room table was big enough, but still, everyone was just about shoulder to shoulder. Somehow, Billy ended up between you and Will.

“Do you know how to play?” Will asked. His voice was quiet as he looked to Billy. There wasn’t any animosity in the teen’s face, not like how Dustin was looking at him. Instead, Will was looking at Billy like he was just another friend sitting at the table.

“Uh, no, I don’t.”

“Okay, cool. It’s pretty easy, you’ll get the hang of it.”

Unsurprisingly, Billy didn’t get the hang of it. Not that you blamed him in the slightest. It had taken you ages to figure out what was going, and they’d dumbed it down for you a lot. For Billy, though, not so much. It had started out easy enough, everyone creating their characters and Mike writing down all of the details in his notebook. Getting into the semantics of the campaign, however, turned into another beast entirely.

“This goblin is shooting at your rogue with his bow. The range is 70 feet which is further than short range for a short bow so he makes the shot with disadvantage so I will roll 2 dice and take the worst.” Mike rolled the dice as Billy stared on, his eyes glazed over. “A 7 and a 16 so we take the 7. The goblin's attack bonus is +4 so the 7 becomes an 11. Your armour class here is 14 so that is a miss,” he continued. Billy looked to you, almost desperate. You bit back a laugh. “The arrow falls short hitting the ground at your feet. If you had been closer, it would have hit you in the chest because 16+4 is 20 which is more than your AC. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Billy jerked his gaze away from you and to Mike, who was watching him expectantly.

“I have no idea what you’re saying. At all,” he said, frowning as he settled back into his seat. Everyone let out a groan of frustration. This had been the fifth time Mike was explaining it to Billy.

“How’d you even graduate high school?” Dustin questioned through a chewed up chocolate chip cookie.

“I didn’t, remember? Bailed before graduation,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. There was a little tension there, coming from the way his back had stiffened. You kept your hand under the table, reaching over to his and giving it a faint squeeze. He glanced over to you out of the corner of his eye.

Everyone else was looking at each other, scrambling for something to say.

“You didn’t miss much, man. Steve wouldn’t even streak across the football field during the ceremony,” Lucas eventually said. You caught the soft look he offered Max, and the grateful smile that she gave in return.

“No, you don't get to complain about that. I never agreed to that hairbrained idea, Sinclair.” Steve was jabbing his finger in Lucas’s direction to make a point.

“You should've, though! It would have been awesome,” Dustin grinned.

“Yeah, and if I would've done that, Hopper never would've let me on the force.”

“You're a cop?” There was a hint of incredulity in Billy's voice as he cocked a brow at Steve. The two of them stared at each other, silent and a hint of a glare on Steve's part.

“Yeah. I've got a badge and everything.”

“Huh,” was all Billy said, more of a hum than anything else.

“You surprised?” Steve was sitting back in his seat, arms crossed against his chest as he watched Billy carefully. You couldn't help but think back to that night a few years ago, Steve with his hands on his hips, the last defense against a pissed off Billy.

“Honestly? Not at all. You seem like you'd be the only competent cop on the force aside from Hopper. Everyone else is shit, if I remember right.”

Steve blinked at Billy, his eyes flickering between the two of you. Sure, Billy's words had come out as easy as pulling teeth, and he'd muttered the word competent, but a compliment was still a compliment.

Dustin was watching the two closely, as though he was trying to figure out just what was going on. While all of the teens were protective of Steve, Dustin would probably kill for him.

“Oh, they're shit. They couldn't even arrest your speeding ass,” Steve said, allowing himself the smallest of smirks. It was tight and awkward and looked a little painful to you, but it was there. He was trying.

“Can those old cruisers even get up to that speed, or do you guys just hope for the best?”

“I don't know. We did get a new vehicle, though, if you want to try it out. You go break a law, and we'll see how long it takes to arrest you.”

“No thanks, man. I've done enough jail time in my life.”

Steve blanched at his words. He grimaced, opening and closing his mouth as he looked to you, helpless.

“Hey, man, I didn't mean to-”

“Don't worry about it, Harrington. That's not the worst thing anyone's ever said to me.”

It grew quiet, everyone looking at each other. It’s not like there was an easy way to transition from jail to a lighter topic. You’d forgotten that your hand was still on Billy’s and your knee bumped the table as he twisted his hand around to intertwine his fingers with yours. He gave your hand a tight, brief squeeze before letting go.

“Y/N, these cookies are really good. Who baked them?” Dustin asked, giving you a wide grin. The boy wasn’t always the best at switching the conversation subtly, but it worked, mainly because Mike rolled his eyes and let out a groan.

“You did, Dustin. You baked them. Like you keep reminding us every single time you eat one,” the dark haired boy complained, scowling.

“That’s because they’re delicious, Mike. They’re perfect.”

The game went on for awhile after that, everyone slowly getting in on what was happening. Billy still wasn’t up to speed on what to do, but what he lacked in understanding, he made up for in enthusiasm. You had a feeling that Dungeons and Dragons was never going to be his thing, but he kept looking over to Max, as though he were searching for some sort of approval from her. Most of the time she’d just grin at him before turning back to Lucas or whoever had been talking, but sometimes she’d give him this small smile, something that was warm and welcoming and made your heart soar a little.

Max had always wanted someone that was there for her. You could remember it clearly, the summer after your graduation when Max had popped over and what had started out as a simple girls’ night ended up in her pouring her heart out to you. She’d just wanted a brother, someone to stick up for her and take care of her and be there for her.

It had taken them both some time, but you could see it; the little spark of a chance that this could actually work, that Max might actually get a brother, and not someone who was just a flaming dick.

Before you knew it, the entire afternoon had passed and everyone was starting to get a little restless. Steve had been the first to suggest starting on dinner, and everyone else had jumped at the chance to not sit at the table for a moment longer. You headed into the kitchen, stopping only when you realized that Billy wasn’t behind you.

“You coming, or what?”

He was lingering at the table, fiddling with one of the unused figurines that Mike had had laying out. He glanced over to you, a faint smile on his face.

“I think I’m gonna head out, actually.”

You ignored the way your heart dropped at his words.

“You sure? We’re going to keep playing after we eat.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I just - you guys should have your Christmas time. I don’t wanna intrude, or anything.”

“Billy, you’re not intruding, trust me. You’re doing anything but that. You made Dustin spit out his soda all over Mike with that Star Wars comment. You’re practically one of us now.” It was endearing, the way Billy ducked his head as you spoke.

“Thanks, but I do think I’m going to head out. I’m kinda tired.” You watched him for a moment longer, searching your brain for anything that would get him to stay. You really didn’t want him to be alone for Christmas Eve, not when he could stay and hang out. There was still a tinge of awkwardness between him and the Party, but they’d laughed together.

Then again, there could only be so much progress made in a day.

“Okay,” is what you settled on, your shoulders lifting up and down in a small shrug. You headed towards your hall closet and started to search through it for a hat and gloves.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice coming a little closer than you’d expected. You grabbed a black hat and matching gloves before turning around, and holding them out victoriously.

“Getting my stuff on so I can walk you home.”

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re not walking me home. I’m perfectly capable of walking home myself. You’ve got guests here.”

“They practically live here, they’re not guests. And I can’t let you walk home alone. You could get hurt, princess.” Your heart dipped in your chest as he stepped closer, his head leaning down just so that way you were nose to nose.

“Princess?” His voice was lower than what should have been legal. You glanced to your left, and then to your right, wanting to be absolutely positive that no one was around to see the two of you. When you were sure that it was clear, you leaned forward just a little and pressed your lips against his. It was chaste and close-mouthed, but your heart was still pounding in your ears. You pulled away after just a second, but it was enough to have him staring at you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, princess. Someone’s gotta look out for you.” The smirk transformed right in front of your eyes, turning into a look of almost… awe? You didn’t want to think about that, or why he was so surprised by your simple words. You really didn’t want to think about how the number of people that had actually looked out for him during his life could be counted on one hand. You headed into the kitchen to grab your coat, locking eyes with Steve, who was stirring something in a pot.

“Where are you headed off to?” Your best friend gave you a knowing look as he nodded pointedly towards the hallway.

“I’m walking him back to his place. He’s heading out.” Steve’s expression wavered.

“He’s - Did I say something wrong? I know that I don’t like the guy, but you like him and Max is wanting to - Should I apologize? Was my comment about his mullet too far?” He fretted, his teeth worrying at his lower lip. You let out a soft laugh and shook your head as you looped your arm through your coat sleeve.

“Steve, it’s fine. I think it’s just a little overwhelming, everyone here,” you said, taking care to keep your voice soft. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? Don’t burn my house down.”

“When have I ever almost burned your house down?”

“Last week, making cookies. I saw flames.”

“Little flames, Y/N! Little flames!” You let out a loud laugh, rolling your eyes as you slid your other arm into the sleeve. You glanced behind you. Billy was leaning against the doorway, his back to you as he watched the Party laughing about something in the living room. “You ready to head out?” He jumped and turned around to meet your gaze, sheepish.

“Ready when you are.”

The two of you made it halfway to the front door when the Party noticed just what was going on.

“Where are you two going?” Will asked, a sly grin on his face.

“I’m walking Billy home, and then coming back here. Relax.”

“Y/N, before you leave, can you come over here and fix your VCR? I think Mike broke it,” Lucas said, causing you to groan.

“Are you kidding me? You little - Mike! What the fuck, man?” You cried out as you got closer to the pile of cords and tapes. Lucas and Mike looked over to Dustin, who gave them a curt nod. The young Henderson got up and sidled over to Billy, who was looking down at him, confusion written all over his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Look, I get that you’re on this road of self discovery and bettering yourself, and that’s great, man,” Dustin said, keeping his voice down. He glanced over to you, making sure that Mike and Lucas were keeping you plenty busy before turning back to Billy. “I respect that, I do. But just a heads up, if you hurt Y/N or Max, you’re going to worry about a hell of a lot more than just a nail bat to your dick, got it?”

“I’m not planning on hurting either of them, Henderson.”

“I know you’re not. Because if you were, we’d be having an entirely different conversation.” He took in a deep breath, waiting a couple of seconds to exhale as he gathered his thoughts. “I get that you want to build those bridges back up again, but if you’re going to, you gotta commit. Don’t just have this be a three week thing and then you fuck off to California and leave them in the dust. I love Max and I love Y/N and they’re happiness is important. So don’t be stupid, Harrington.” He muttered the final sentence, his voice dark as he spoke. His entire countenance lightened up the second you turned back to them.

“What are you two talking about?”

“Billy here wanted to know what makes my chocolate chip cookies so perfect, so I was giving him the recipe. Remember, cream cheese is the key, man.” Billy just nodded his head, eyes wide and head moving slow at his words. Dustin clapped him on the shoulder, shooting you a cheesy grin as he headed back to Mike and Lucas.

“How much did he threaten you?”

“Alot. He cares about you and Max, though, so I don’t mind it.”

All you could do was smile and shake your head as you headed to the front door. The cold air bit at your skin, causing you to wince as you stepped down your porch steps. You shoved the hat on your head, gloves following fast as Billy shut the door behind him.

The walk started out quiet, the two of you walking beside one another on the sidewalk. Snow flurries drifted through the air, little white dots against the darkness that surrounded you. The streetlights gave everything a hazy, orange glow. Occasionally, a house would have their lights up, and Christmas trees shone through most windows.

“I get why you did it,” Billy mused, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Did what?”

“Went for a walk that night we grabbed coffee at the diner. It’s pretty, at night. And it’s quiet.” You let out a hum of agreement, your shoulder brushing against his. You didn’t sway away, though, and it took Billy only a second to get the hint. He took your hand easily, interlocking your fingers. Your hands swayed back and forth as you walked.

“Is it going to kill the mood if I say that this was the nicest Christmas Eve I’ve had in years?”  He asked, glancing down at you. You looked up at him, noting the anxiety that was darkening his eyes. They were narrowed a little, like he was nervous to admit it.

“No. It’s the nicest that I’ve had in awhile too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Max looked happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.” The grin that came onto Billy’s face happened so fast that you could tell it was unexpected. You mirrored it, squeezing his hand nice and tight.

You hadn’t realized how close his little apartment was to your house, but it felt like it had been no time before you got there. At some point, you’d shuffled closer to Billy, and had ended up with his arm around your shoulders, effectively tucking you into his side. It was nice like this. You appreciated his warmth, and how it felt right.

You also appreciated how firm he was, but that was a given.

He stalled as you approached the building, coming to a full stop on the sidewalk out front. You went to pull away, but he held you tight, so you opted for looking up at him instead.

“You’re not inviting me up?”

“I’m pretty sure that the kids would have my head if I kept you away from them any longer than necessary,” he said, huffing out a laugh. The air went white for a moment, steam showing up for a moment then disappearing into the night air.

“They can wait a couple more minutes,” you murmured, your gaze dropping to his lips. It had been hard to think of other things when the ghost of kiss had been running through your mind for a week. “You know, it’s kind of rude to just kiss a girl and then not call her.”

“I don’t have your number.”

“You know where I live, though.” He grew a little more serious, his fingers tightening around your shoulder.

“I know, I just…” He looked at you as though he was waiting for you to butt in, to say that it was alright. But you didn’t. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after this, after my lease is up and I leave. I don’t want to - I’m still a dick, Y/N. I don’t want to get your hopes up that I’ve changed a whole lot and then crush them. I’m shit at staying in touch. I'm shit - at everything. But I like you, and I don’t wanna hurt you.”

The words were quiet in the cold air. It was quiet all around you, the snow on the ground muting the little sounds that were usually there. Instead, everything was white and quiet. It felt like it was just the two of you on the whole planet.

“Billy, it’s fine. I get it. We’re friends, okay? Let’s just go from there, and see what happens.” He got that same expression on his face from earlier, when she’d said that someone had to look out for him. This time, it was difficult to push those thoughts away.

“Why are you so understanding?”

“It’s because I’m a great person,” you said, grinning up at him. Your words succeeded in their job, and he laughed. After a couple of seconds, he grew somber.

“You are a great person.”

“So are you, Hargrove.”

The two of you stared at one another, the snow whirling around you in a silent dance. You leaned up, resting a hand on his chest as you kissed his cheek. A hand fell to your waist, holding you in place as he turned his head just enough, lips replacing his cheek. You kissed each other, soft and slow. Your hand rested against his shoulder, thumb brushing against his jacket as he pulled you in closer.

It could only go on for so long, though. He pulled away after letting it go on awhile longer.

“Friends?” You were embarrassed by how much your voice shook on that single word, and how your hand was gripping his shoulder tighter than you should have. But his hands were still on your waist, holding you against him while neither of you moved.

“Friends.” There was some satisfaction to be gained in the fact that his voice shook too.

“So, uh, come over tomorrow night? We could watch a movie or something after the whole Christmas thing dies down?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I can get your number then, too.”

“Perfect.

The flowers were starting to poke their way out of the thawing ground. There wasn’t green on the trees just yet, but it was a start. Considering the fact that it was Spring Break, you’d take just about any signs of warmth and summer that you could get.

The phone rang, a shrill sound coming from the hallway. You glanced at the clock on your dresser and grinned.

“I’ve got it!” You yelled, running out of your room and skidding to a stop when you reached the phone hanging on the wall. You picked it up and put it to your ear, fighting off the grin despite the fact that he wouldn’t see it.

“Roadkill Cafe, you kill’em, we grill’em. How may I help you?”

“You have the dumbest sense of humor on earth, you know that?”

“You don’t get a say, you have terrible judgement. You once thought a mullet was hot.”

“It was hot. Everyone in Hawkins thought so.” He paused. “Even Mrs. Wheeler.” You grimaced at the thought.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that Steve didn’t think it was hot. Or me.” You waited for a moment, listening to make sure that your mother wasn’t within hearing distance. “Your ass wasn’t too bad, though.” Billy snorted into the receiver, and you could hear a dull thunk in the background. His head had probably hit the wall.

“Y/N!” Your mother snapped, her head poking out from the kitchen. “Don’t be crude.” That launched an actual laugh from Billy. You had to bite down on your lip hard to keep from laughing until she stepped into the living room.

This had been going on ever since he’d left Hawkins. He’d even called you at school, a set time each night where you’d linger out near the phone bank that was in your dorms common room, leaning against the wall amongst the other girls who were most likely talking to their significant others.

The two of you weren’t there yet. But you felt like you were inching close to it every day.

“So you’re coming to Hawkins for summer, then?”

“Yeah. I should be there by the first week of June, I’m thinking? Max is wanting me to get there earlier, but my therapist hasn’t found somebody out there for me yet, and recommended that I wait ‘til I can be sure.” You smiled as he spoke. He and Max didn’t talk as much as the two of you did, but it was at least a couple of times a week. Billy would go on and on about what they’d talk about, and all the cool stuff she was learning, like you and Max didn’t have weekly phone conversations. You didn’t mind, though. Billy gushing about anything was a treat.

“I can’t wait.”

“Same here.”

If you closed your eyes, you could imagine his small smile, the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle a little as he grinned down at you. You could practically feel the warmth that just radiated off of him whenever you were around.The way he’d laugh and get a little annoyed by the nickname you’d given him.

“So, princess, tell me about your week.”

taglist: @jems8241 @fearwill @getfit-havefun @whatslifereallyabout @harringtonhuddle @nicospaten @selenedarkbloom @samuel-maurice455 @lilo-1398 @thevortexclubposse @laurennicole1313 @ambeazyyy @myblackwings5 @morgandakotaq @rivedale @laterg8r @buckybass @airforcecollins @superanonymousreader @alwaysmebeforeyou @istanuriss @smittyjaws

[stretchjournalemerson]

Contrails

By Anthony Manupelli

Part One: Peace

Had a talk with my old man,

Said help me understand.

He said, turn 68, you’ll renegotiate

Don’t stop this train

- John Mayer

A month before the crash, it all came back to me. I spent hours, upon hours in fear. I hadn’t given it any thought since I was a little kid. Aside from the good memories, such as watching the Curious George movie with my siblings on a warm summer morning in 2007, I remember panicking about it when I was all alone.

The night it changed; I was nine. It was long past my bedtime and I had school the next day. My stomach turned as my brain spiraled out of control. My make-shift room in the basement of my childhood home had been repurposed from a small office to an oversized bedroom that I so thrillingly shared with spiders, the dark, and my overwhelming thoughts. Despite the unnecessary amount of space I had, I felt so trapped. Coming off a hot streak of realizations, including my discovery of the fact that Santa wasn’t real, and that the WWE was staged, I took a deep dive into an abyss of analysis into what was real and what was fake. And then, the mother of all struggles occurred.

I was raised Catholic and didn’t think much of it for most of my early years. We honestly weren’t very committed churchgoers. My siblings and I would fight with our parents pretty often about attending church early on Sunday morning. We kind of all just accepted the fact that our mother wanted us to be Catholic. So, I never really delved deeper into a spiritual awakening, I just did as I was told. But time and time again, I discovered I shouldn’t simply accept the world that is placed in front of me and the fact that I will only find truth in life by constantly questioning my reality, I began to question my mother’s teachings. I froze. As if I was hit on the top of the head, my brain began buzzing, and I fell down a rabbit hole, a psychotic conundrum of thought. The topic of my panic: what happens when we die?

“What happens after this, what happens, what happens, what is happening to me”? I couldn’t stop. For the first time in my life, I was spiraling. My blood curled, I felt it in my face. I rolled into a ball and clenched my stomach to avoid spilling out its contents. I felt my fingers numb and my brain freeze. All of this, as if no other human being had gone through a spiritual crisis or could understand my confusion and panic.

I continuously asked, “what if…”, and it never ended. At nine, I was bargaining with myself to come to terms with something that no human had ever completely understood. My panic stirred so deep into the night, that I was met with my father’s questioning, the next morning, as he prepared for his day.

“What’s wrong Anthony, you’re freaking out. What happened?”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing, Dad. I’m fine.” I figured if I didn’t say it out loud then it wouldn’t be true.

“No Anthony seriously, this stops right now. What’s wrong?”

I didn’t want to invite my poor father into this personal hell of my over analysis of the spacetime continuum. So, I simplified it to the catalyst of my fear and promptly begged,

“Dad, what really happens when we die?”

He paused. I never knew if he did so to make me feel understood and calm me down or to actually process the question. Regardless, he resolved.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

And instantly, I was relieved. I never understood why. But from that moment forward, I never feared death or thought about it again. At least not in the science-fiction, fantastical, terrifying way my brain had me pondering in those moments. Not once, did I waste an ounce of my time fearing death, not until much later.

Part Two: Body Separation

Upside down

Who's to say what's impossible and can't be found

I don't want this feeling to go away

Please don't go away

-Jack Johnson

I remember my dad’s face when I got the car. As I drove out of my driveway, alone, for the first time, he waved goodbye. And it was at that moment, I realized I was grown up. I wasn’t the kid he had calmed down years before. I had a new cast of characters in my life. Friends he didn’t know but they were the people I brought my concerns, dreams, and questions to. I became my own person without even realizing it. And he wasn’t waving goodbye to me. He was waving goodbye to the little kid he had known all the years prior. He was waving goodbye to my childhood.

But time marched on and I became incredibly fond of my car. I drove all the time. I mean all of the time. Every month of the year, everywhere my friends or I went. I was always the one driving and I loved it.

Massachusetts winters are pretty brutal and it's usually hard to find something to do. So my car became not only a vehicle of physical transportation but an escape from the freezing cold and lack of activity. That car brought me together with so many people. The sheer amount of people who had taken a ride in my car had become a running joke. It encapsulated my entire teenage experience; it brought me so far away from home yet together with so many people.

The summer returned and it was time for one of my childhood best friends to go to school. I was the last person to send them off as I dropped them off to their house after spending the entire night out in commemoration of our years together.

I remember returning home, alone, after the sunrise, devastated. It was one of the most painful goodbyes I’ve ever had to do. It was a goodbye, not a see you soon.

So, when my dad found me in my car, he comforted me and asked why I was so upset.

“My childhood’s over dad. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t know how and don’t want to be an adult”.

He paused again and gave me time to relax. We both knew I just needed to get some sleep.

“I never grew up. I’ve aged but we’re all still kids at heart” he offered.

Time marched on. And despite my initial doubt of my dad’s input, he was right. I had aged but I was still a little kid at heart. This became clear as I sat in my bed on a windy December night and began to panic again.

“What happens when we die”?

I hadn’t thought about that in nearly a decade. It hadn’t kept me awake, late at night, since I was nine. But here I was all grown up panicking in my top bunk in a new house, in a new room. The location, people, and time changed, but my fear remained the same.

Only this time, the fear sweltered unlike ever before. I found myself at a crossroads once again. However, my dad’s words and my logic would not comfort me. I needed something more.

But, after dwelling for over a month, I received my answer in the most unexpected scenario.

Part Three: Entering Darkness

Once in a while, when it’s good

It’ll feel like it should

And they’re all still around

And you’re still safe and sound

And you don’t miss a thing

‘Til you cry

When you’re driving away in the dark

-Also, John Mayer

The moments leading up to the crash were so normal, completely tranquil. I regret not paying attention to what song was playing; I was so focused on where I was going that I forgot to take-in where I was.

The road we were travelling down was a two-lane highway. Visibility was terrible, there were no streetlights the entire way as we drove through a road carved through the wilderness. The pine trees towered over the car, looming left to right; the moon casting their shadows onto the pavement. A light fog spilled onto the road perpetuating the gloominess of the scene.

I remember looking out the window and noticing a valley of dead trees. I wondered what had happened to them, all the way out there, alone. I had traveled that road before, many times. When I was younger, I never noticed the dead trees. I must have been enamored by the color of the other ones. But my attention no longer resided with what is. What once was seemed to be the solution to all my problems.

If I could just figure out why, then I’d feel safe again.

Why had all of this happened?

Why are we here?

Why me?

I became a full-time philosopher as a compulsion for my obsessive thoughts. To no avail, of course. None of it mattered anyway.

As I continued traveling down the road, I realized how comfortable I had become with it. The low visibility, the spooky trees, the moonlight, the life and death no longer stroking fear as I moved along.

I had traveled this road so many times before that I was as familiar with its features as I was myself.

So, it was in complete shock when I slowed down and took a left turn off the road only to be met with a blinding flash of white, followed by immediate darkness.

Part Four: Seeing the Light

The sun is going down

There's shadows all around

And I feel more than wine

We must do this again sometime

But I can't tell you when

But what a joy it's been

All that we have is now

- Jesse Winchester

…

My dad and I have a term for the situations life throws your way when you are doing one thing and then find yourself completely lost in an unexpected situation. We refer to this special place of confusion/limbo as “Claire’s Living Room”.

To provide an example of this phenomena without going into detail of its origins, I realized I was in Claire’s Living Room as I sat alone in a hospital bed, with an IV in my left arm, listening to the staff count down to the new year in the break room.

2020 was a tumultuous year, but I truly did not expect to be welcomed into 2021 by a man in a cloak in a blindingly bright room. That man, of course, being one of the nicest doctors I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I just wish it had occurred under different circumstances.

They checked my vitals, all was well. Some slight bruising on my right ribs, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a matter of days to weeks.

“Do you have any other concerns or questions for me?” He asked at just about two in the morning.

I couldn’t believe I was alive and okay. No one was seriously injured. No one had died. Yet, it felt like a part of me had been permanently altered. The crash was bad; really bad. Fortunately, both cars had done their job and protected every passenger. Everyone was wearing their seat belts and no other cars were there at the time of the accident. The street shut down for a short period of time to assist in the tow and clean up of both cars.

My memory of the aftermath begins with me already out of the car. I must have subconsciously exited the vehicle after getting hit with the airbags. The car was totaled. Immediately. Way gone. I remember watching the first officers and passersby see my car and look in disgust at how twisted it was. I was still out of it, so noticing other people looking shocked to see me standing on my feet brought tears to my eyes.

I wasn’t hurt, at least not physically. I went back into the wreck to find my phone. As more people began arriving at the scene, more strangers, cops, firemen, I began to panic. The situation was easily the most overwhelming experience of my life. And loud. I mean earth shatteringly loud. From the moment of impact, to the ringing in my ears, to the first responders, the sirens, the people.

But I couldn’t find my phone. I needed to call my parents and tell them to come to the scene. I needed them to know I was okay, to hear my voice before a police officer called them to inform them, I had been involved in an accident.

I was petrified that my parents would think I was dead.

After a few minutes of searching, I asked one of my friends to call my dad. My dad would explain to me later that my friend’s phone call sent him into panic. Apparently, he was sitting with my mom when he received the call. My friend was so shaken up that he could barely get the words out.

“Anthony, you need to get here.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Is everyone okay?” My dad immediately grabbed his things and waved my mom toward the garage.

“Down North Street, outside the state police barracks. We got into an accident, it’s really bad you just need to get here now”.

For about ten minutes, I had no way of communicating to my parents to let them know I was okay. For ten minutes, my parents feared the chance that I might have died. Something no parent should have to think about or go through. Certainly, something I would never have wished to have forced my parents to think about.

It was easily the most painful and anxiety inducing ten minutes of my life. Ten minutes of pure fear. And the people, more people, constantly more people. I had never seen so many people in one place in my entire life. The lights, the noise, the people.

My heart beat wildly, my brain froze once again, my stomach turned in my panic.

But when my parents arrived at the scene and I hugged them and told them I was okay, all my fear absolved.

I never understood how fast something as simple as seeing your family face to face could be taken away in the blink of an eye.

In a flash.

…

As I sat in that hospital bed, I realized I had the answer to my fears, crisis, and confusion all along.

In the face of death, all that matters is love. The only truth in life is found within. Love is the answer: all there ever was, is, and will be. And through love, life is eternal.

I’m not going to sit here and validate the specific hypothesis on near-death-experiences because I truly don’t know. What I will say is that the stages of life, growth, and change all coincide with the supposed course of a near-death-experience. And I don’t know that I would have found solace in my quest for answers if I hadn’t come that close to losing it all.

When I got a taste for nothing, I returned to find everything.

Part Five: Entering the Light

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

-Joni Mitchell

Since I was a little kid, I’ve always loved contrails. People usually miss them and/or have no idea what I’m talking about when I use the term. Contrails are the clouds released by planes in the sky. The next time you’re outside, look up and I’m sure you’ll see one. I remember, during early quarantine, not seeing a single plane in the sky as if time had come to a halt. No contrails. Our inability to be with each other prevented their spirited existence within the sky.

When I was younger, I was amazed by them. I always felt like I was watching an artist paint massive strokes up in the sky. They’re beautiful, truly amazing things.

The next time I saw a plane leaving its mark in the sky, contrails had taken on a new meaning. Instead of the stroke of an artist, they are the mark of a lifetime; mysteriously appearing out of thin air, releasing a beautiful stride for all to see, and gradually fading to the stars.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my family and anyone else that’s ever loved me into being. I love you.

[niyari-to-kitsune-blog]

SNS Summer Week 2017 Day 5 Prompt: Family

Title: A Day in the Life Alternate Link: AO3

- - -

Dark, bleary eyes slowly opened to the dimly lit room.  It was oddly quiet this morning.  Was something wrong?  Pft, of course that would be his first thought.. Traces of a dream he couldn’t quite recall flickered on the outskirts of his memory, before disappearing completely as the sound of the glass door being slid open echoed throughout the near-silent room. A shock of blond hair appeared, dull in the first traces of morning light that seeped through the doorway.  Blue eyes turned to catch his, widening. “Sasuke?  I’m sorry – did I wake you?”  He whispered, as if the man he addressed might not actually be awake. “What time is it?”  The raven murmured, raising a hand up from beneath the warm covers to brush back a lock of hair that had stuck to his forehead sometime throughout the night. “Mmm, prolly a quarter past 6?”  The blond hummed, quietly shutting the door behind him as he made his way back towards the bed, where Sasuke had pushed himself to a half-sitting position. “The alarm didn’t go off..”  He frowned, his eyes trailing towards the traitorous object sitting on their bed stand. “I turned it off.”  Naruto quickly intervened, preventing the clock’s early demise at the hands of the Uchiha.  “Thought I’d let you get a little extra sleep while you could.”  He smiled softly, scratching the back of his head. It wasn’t like the raven to sleep in though.  Even if his alarm hadn’t gone off, it was only a short matter of time until his internal alarm would go off instead, telling him to wake up for the day.  There wasn’t really much around that.  Before he had a chance to tell the other that it wasn’t necessary, there was a loud slam of a door heard from down the hallway. “Ah, one of ‘em’s up already.”  The Hokage just chuckled, moving to stand from his previous seat on the side of the bed, the mattress becoming lighter as he stood. “I should probably go get breakfast started.”  He leaned over, planting a quick kiss to Sasuke’s temple before making his way towards the bedroom door.  Sasuke just hmm’d in response, pulling himself from the warm bed and making his way to the attached bathroom.  In the hallway, he could hear his husband quietly scolding whom he assumed was their youngest child, who had a bad habit of being unnecessarily noisy - a trait clearly taken from their equally unnecessarily noisy father. Taking his time, the recently ex-Anbu captain went about relieving himself before brushing his teeth and washing his face for the day.  He’d been easily less than 10 minutes, but by the time he’d exited the bathroom, traces of sunlight were already beginning to seep through the balcony door, the soft glow illuminating the cool, hardwood floor of the bedroom. No sooner than was he dressed, his bedroom door slid open, a bright tuft of orange hair, nearly matching his father’s in intensity, stuck its way in.  Cool blue eyes met his almost immediately, and he couldn’t resist the soft smile that melted across his features “You didn’t knock.”  He reminded, and his son quickly apologized.  He knew his kids were pretty good at this, but often let their guards down when they knew their parents weren’t in the same room together.  Still, manners. “Haha says it’s time for breakfast.”  His thumb immediately went to his mouth, something the boy had been growing out of, but still did when he became nervous. “Don’t let him hear you call him that.”  Sasuke nodded, moving to the door where his son moved aside for him.  He leaned down, gently knocking the red-head’s hand away before kissing his head.  “Don’t suck your thumb.” “I’m nooot.”  The boy fussed, pulling away and quickly turning to trot back down the hall, just slow enough so that his father couldn’t fault him for running inside as well. Amused, the eldest Uchiha followed him, pleasantly assaulted by the smell of food as he entered the bustling kitchen - the heart of their home.  Yuki was at the counter, helping Naruto with the finishing touches of breakfast, while his youngest son hustled over to plop down next to his twin, who was already patiently seated at the table. “Don’t break the furniture, Kyou.”  The blond spoke, never missing a beat as he quickly poured egg over steaming bowls of rice, handing them one at a time to Yuki, who helped carry them to the table. “It’s not broken.”  Kyousuke countered, sticking out his tongue at his dad’s back. “It will be if you keep jumping on it like that.”  Sasuke shot him a glance before taking his seat at the end of the table, conveniently placed right next to his rambunctious three-year-old. Kyousuke pouted, but quieted down once his food was set in front of him.  “Itadakimasu~” He sing-songed, digging into his meal.  Yuki finished setting the table and climbed around to his seat on the opposite end of the bench that rounded out their breakfast nook.  Naruto poured tea into small cups set around the table, save for Kyou’s place, where he’d already set a cup of juice. “Coffee?”  Sasuke asked, and Naruto just smiled, a cup already appearing in his hand.  “Gotcha covered.”  The raven smiled in thanks, sipping it and humming his pleasure as he noted the fresh lemon in it.  His dobe seemed to always know when he needed the black stuff. Naruto sat down at the table last, a small gap between him and Yuki on the bench as they all began to eat. “Where’s Ayumi?”  He asked, a dark brow raising curiously at said missing resident. “Ah, she left early with her friends.”  Naruto spoke after chewing his food - a lesson he’d been forced to abide by since having kids, much to his chagrin. “This early?  Did she eat?”  He frowned, glancing at the clock that hung on the kitchen wall, noting that classes didn’t start for at least another 45 minutes, and the academy was only a 15 minute walk, tops. Naruto just waved his hand.  “She had some toast, no worries.  You know how she’s been - it’s fine.” “She should have at least waited to walk with her brother.”  Sasuke frowned, motioning his head towards Yuki, who sat across from him. “I can walk by myself.”  Yuki piped in, looking up from his tea. “I know you can; that’s not the point.” “I don’t mind.” “I know, but your older sibling should take care of you.” “I don’t need taking care of - I’m safe, I promise.” Sasuke sighed.  It wasn’t like Yuki to talk back, but he knew he was only trying to reassure him.  It wasn’t so much his safety he was concerned about, so much as it was that Yuki might feel left out. “I know you are.  I trust you most to be safe.”  He praised, letting their middle child know he wasn’t upset with him.  The white-haired boy smiled at that. “Why do you trust him most?”  Kyou looked up from his half eaten food. “Because your brother is very mature for his age.”  Naruto chimed in, leaning over the small table to wipe the rice from his face.  “Be neater with your food.” “You’re one to talk, dobe.”  Sasuke smirked before taking a bite of the leftover veggies they’d had from last night’s dinner. “Hey!  I’m not messy!” “Mhm.” “I’m not!” “. . .” “Teme, I--” “Can I have soy sauce?” Black and blue eyes immediately looked over to their second youngest son, who had been quiet up to this point. “Sure, Katsu.”  Naruto immediately smiled warmly before standing to fetch it.  Sasuke inwardly questioned if the boy had only intervened to avoid conflict, seeing as he didn’t typically like salty things.  Katsutoshi was a clever one, and he smiled at him, the boy only shyly looking down before the blond returned. “Want me to pour it for you?”  Naruto offered, and Katsutoshi quickly nodded.  There had been a few soy sauce disasters in the house, and his dad knew he didn’t like it very much to begin with.  The blond helped drizzled a small amount over his rice before setting the brown liquid aside. “Baby.”  Kyousuke elbowed his twin.  “I could pour my own soy sauce.” “Don’t tease your brother.”  Sasuke swatted his hand, causing the boy to huff dramatically. “It’s not my fault he can’t even pour his own sauce!” “I can to.”  Katsu countered. “Then why’d you have Haha do it?” “Kyousuke, don’t call me that.”  Naruto intervened. “Sorry.” There was a brief moment of silence as the twins spaced themselves apart on the bench, eyeing one another. “I’m done.  Thanks for the food.”  Yuki announced, not waiting for Naruto to get up before taking his now empty bowl and sliding under the table.  Moving over to the sink, he went about washing the few dishes used for prepping breakfast that morning.  It was Tuesday, and Ayumi and Yuki typically took turns throughout the week doing the dishes, save for Sundays where Naruto and Sasuke would switch off. “Do you want me to walk you to school?”  Sasuke offered, also moving to stand, taking his bowl and plate over to the sink. “That’s okay.”  Yuki shook his head. The Uchiha stared a moment longer, but said nothing else. Naruto and the twins took their time eating, and Sasuke offered to finish the rest of the dishes so he could head to class. “I’m off!”  Yuki shouted over his shoulder. “Have a good day.”  Naruto and Sasuke mirrored. No sooner had the door closed - “When can I go to the academy?”  Kyou chirped, wriggling in his seat. “When you’re older.”  Sasuke spoke as he cleared the counter.  “Finish your food.” Kyousuke stilled, going back to eating his breakfast.  Two bites later, he looked up again. “How long is that?” “When you’re tall enough to wash the dishes by yourself.”  Naruto chuckled, standing now and adding his dish to the sink where Sasuke stood before fetching himself another glass of tea. “Tomorrow?” “You don’t grow that fast, stupid.”  Katsu chided. “You don’t know that!” “Don’t fuss you two.  Katsutoshi, don’t tease your brother.  Kyousuke, you can check again tomorrow if you’re tall enough if you’d like.”  Naruto moved over to stand next to the table, a cloth in hand. The boys both nodded in sync.  “Okay.” “Are you done eating?”  The blond motioned to their bowls. “I’m done.”  Kyou nodded, sliding down from his seat. “Take your bowl to your father if you’re done.”  He reminded the boy, thwarting his attempt to escape. “Okaaay.” “Can I save mine?”  Katsu frowned, his chopsticks pressing the rice around in his bowl awkwardly. “Are you not hungry?” He shook his head, red bangs swaying in his face.  “Uh uh.” “Okay.  Make sure to finish the rest at lunch, okay?” “Okay.” The Hokage took his bowl, setting it on the counter and placing wrap over it for later. “Can I go play now?”  The youngest boy tugged at his pants leg. The blond tilted his head towards the cloth he’d left on the table.  “Wipe down the table and then you can go play.” “Okay~”  He quickly went over to the table, where Katsu was excusing himself. “Don’t miss anything.” “Okayyy.” Naruto just chuckled at his youngest’s response, ruffling his wily orange locks. “You should be get heading out too.”  Sasuke spoke, wiping his hands dry on a dish towel now that he’d finished up the rest of the dishes. The blond just groaned, mumbling “yes, yes” under his breath. Sasuke smirked, sneaking a peck onto Naruto’s whiskered cheek. Kyousuke made a noise, sticking his tongue out at his parents’ antics, but neither of them paid him any mind.  Katsutoshi had already wandered off, likely to play with his toys in the living area. “Think you can handle the twins while I’m gone?” “I think I can manage until you get home for lunch.”  Sasuke rolled his eyes.  “Who’s dropping them off at Sakura’s today?” “Mm, I can do it.  I had to talk to Lee anyways!”  Naruto chirped, heading over the grab his cloak where it hung by the door. “I’m leaving now!”  He called over his shoulder. “Be safe!” A trio of voices called after him, and he couldn’t help that smile that spread across his face. Sasuke made eye contact with him once more, the two speaking in their own unspoken language.  They communicated with each other in a way that transcended words, in a way only they could. This was just another morning.  Another day in the life. Neither of them would have it any other way.

[ghostsinthewoods]

Chapter Seven: Witching in the Woods

Out where the forest met the tracks, in a small patch of grass unobscured by trees, a movie was being made. Maybe 'made' wasn't the right word. The camera wasn't out, and one of the actors hadn't learned her lines. But they were at an important point in the creative process, and, really, the crew only consisted of two people.

Mae wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not when she'd heard Lori M. had written her a part in a movie. Mae thought she might have heard it while she was in her coma. Mae didn't remember it the way you remember something that happened, but the way you remembered a dream. A lot of stuff during that time was fuzzy.

Mae thought she remembered people gathered around her at church. But that didn't make sense. Why would she have been at church? Mae's brain had probably just been playing tricks on her.

Nice try, brain.

"Um, so," Lori said as the two sat on an overturned log. "Thanks for agreeing to help me out with this."

"Dude," Mae said, laughing a bit, "you wrote me a party in a horror movie. I get to be a spooky witch. How could I say no to that?"

"I thought you would, is all," Lori said. "It's not a really good script. I'm, like, terrified I ripped off some other movies subconsciously."

Mae shook her head. The script—the sole copy of it—was lying in her lap. It was really just an old, battered notebook.

It reminded Mae of the old songbook the band had used. After finding it last month, Mae had taken it home with her. She didn't know why. It was just, like, a piece of Casey.

"I think it's good," Mae said. "Lori, when you get to be 20 years old, you'll have seen some crappy movies. Trust me; I know a bad script when I see one." Or so she said. Mae liked Death Chill 2, which was notoriously the worst Death Chill. The Video Outpost didn't even carry it.

Lori seemed a little relieved by Mae's assurances. The poor kid still seemed anxious, though. Mae didn't get why. Making a horror movie, at her age? That was cool. Lori was a cool kid. She deserved to be confident.

"The only problem I have with the script," Mae said, "is that there's only two characters. Don't we need more?"

Lori looked down at her shoes. "Yeah," she said. "I mean no. No, it's fine. Totally fine. Lots of horror movies only have two characters."

"Really?" Mae asked. "Like what?"

Lori lifted her head up. She was apparently drawing information from the repository of horror movie knowledge that lied deep within her skull. "Uh… Cannibal Hacksaw Cottage, Ballet Witch, Deathboy, Angry Nephew…"

"Whoa," Mae said. "Those are definitely some movie titles."

"Yeah, Angry Nephew's really great," Lori said. "It's about this guy whose nephew is really angry."

"No, I guessed that," Mae said.

Lori just nodded. "Uh, anyway, there are only two roles because there's only… two… us." Lori cleared her throat.

"Can't you ask your friends to help you out?" Mae asked. Lori shook her head, embarrassed.

"I mean, I could," she said. "But… I dunno. It's just a thing I'm doing. They have their things, and I have my weird thing."

Mae frowned. Honestly, Lori reminded Mae a lot of herself at that age. Mae had been fairly withdrawn and nervous after the softball incident. She wondered why it was Lori was so anxious. Was it just, like, a brain thing? Or was it something else?

"If you asked your friends, they'd probably be psyched," Mae said.

Lori looked uncertain. "Well, I guess. I dunno. I mostly just don't want anyone to know about my awful script."

"I know about it," Mae said. "And also, it's not awful. Like, if I wrote something like this, it'd be a million times worse. Trust me."

At last, that seemed to cheer Lori up. She looked down at the notebook in Mae's lap and then back up at her. "Okay," she said. "I mean, I guess I could ask. My friends are usually off doing their own thing."

"I could ask some of my friends if they'd be interested," Mae said. "My friend Angus works at the video store, so he probably knows a lot about movies. And my other friend Gregg has knives. That's probably useful in film-making."

Lori hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. "Um, okay. I think I know Angus. I go into the video store sometimes. Just to, like, look at old VHS covers." She seemed ashamed about this somehow. Mae didn't really get it.

It would be more shameful if Lori actually went into the Outpost to rent movies.

And so, Mae decided to be the pitchman for Thrill Kill Witch Cult: A Lori M. Joint.

That wasn't the full title, but Mae had decided to call it that in her head.

First and foremost, she set out to pitch the movie to her friends. She'd explained the situation to Bea—that she was helping a teenager make a horror movie on her phone—but Bea had just looked at her like she was crazy.

Next up was Angus and Gregg. The best time to talk to her dudes, of course, was when they were both off of work. Mae informed them on Chattrbox that she wanted to talk with them. Gregg and Angus had been fine with inviting her over to the apartment after work.

Must have not been a date night.

And so, with Mae sitting on the floor, and Gregg and Angus were sitting on the couch, Mae began to pitch the greatest movie ever made in Possum Springs.

"So, wait, how do you know this Lori person?" Angus asked.

"I saw her on a roof," Mae answered, as if that explained everything. It must have, because they didn't question her about it anymore.

"Anyway, I really wanna help Lori out with her movie," Mae said. "She's, like, me in the past. Only with horror movies and a sister that's, like, hot in a weird way."

Gregg shrugged, a smile on his face. "I'm game. I've always wanted to die on film."

"Modern movies don't really use film," Angus pointed out. He didn't seem as excited as Gregg at the prospect of making movie magic. Mae vaguely remembered Angus being in some plays back in middle school, but the big guy was still kind of shy.

"This is gonna be great," Mae said. And she meant it. This whole movie business was getting her mind off of her problems. More or less, at least. "Man, I can't wait to kill you guys."

"That's not really surprising," Angus joked, his tone deadpan.

It occurred to Mae that she should probably check how much acting experience they had. Then she remembered the Harfest Play Gregg had been in, and decided that would be a dumb question. Mae loved Gregg like a brother, but an actor he was not. Maybe he could be, like, Angus's stunt double.

As for Mae, her acting experience mostly came from a few Sunday School pageants she'd been in when she was, like, eight. God, those were a nightmare to think about now. Dressing up as, like, a talking tree, or the Broken Snake, or whatever, in front of a dozen moms.

The audience for those pageants was mostly moms. A clearly unbalanced mom-to-dad ratio.

"Thanks a lot for the help, guys," Mae said. Part of her had been worried they would say no. She wasn't sure why she'd thought that. Sometimes people just assume the worst, or something. Lori seemed to do the same thing.

But Mae didn't have time to be worried. Gregg and Angus would be moving soon. This movie might be their last big thing for a while.

And Mae didn't want to let a bad mood or a ghost in her head get in the way of that.

The first problem that arose in the making of Thrill Kill Witch Cult: A Lori M. Joint featuring Gregg and Angus—aside from the increasingly lengthening title—was Lori's choice for a filming location. Mae's apprehension grew as Lori led them out past the basketball court, to where the state forest met the mines.

They weren't at the mines. Mae would have freaked out if they had been. But they were close enough that it made Mae almost sick with fear.

She hadn't felt… whatever it was she'd felt in her head since last year. That one guy in the mines had described it as 'singing'. Whatever. So what if Lori wanted to film something out here? It was spooky. It was a primo horror movie set. The fact that an actual cult had once hung around the area only added to that.

Gregg and Angus didn't exactly look happy to be back there, either. It didn't really help that, technically, no one was supposed to be out here. It wasn't illegal or anything. Just dangerous, and frowned upon.

Ordinarily, that would make it really cool. But, again, death cult.

"Okay, okay, okay," Lori said hurriedly, her phone clutched in her little teen hands. "Uh, thanks for asking your friends to help out, Mae."

"It was no problem," Angus said.

"Yeah," Gregg said. "Me and the Cap'n have been waiting for our big break. Gonna be stars."

Lori fidgeted a bit. "Well, actually, I don't think many people will see this…" She said.

Gregg said nothing. He politely waited for Lori to realize he had been joking. It took longer than it probably should have, but eventually a look of embarrassed realization dawned on Lori's face.

"Are we, like, actually filming this stuff right away?" Mae asked. "I still don't really know my lines."

"Uh, no," Lori said. "Besides, I haven't added the other characters yet. I thought we'd, like, just hang around the forest and get a feel for it. Does that make sense?"

It kinda did, in Mae's opinion. She wasn't an expert on the acting method, or filmmaking, but she knew a little bit about the feelings a certain place could give you. For example, this place filled Mae with uncomfortable memories of coma headaches and cave-ins.

And dead friends.

And horrible goat gods, maybe?

"So… we came out here to stand around?" Angus asked. "Are we supposed to do something?"

Lori bit her bottom lip. For a moment, Mae worried she was going to start hyperventilating. Well, Mae was ready if that started. She had started to figure out how to help Lori when she got anxious.

Lori surprised Mae, however, by staying fairly composed. "Well, I mean," she said, "we can go over what's written down so far. And, like, you guys can tell me any ideas you have. If you want. You don't have to."

"Wow," Gregg muttered. He and Angus shared a look. Mae wished she knew what they were saying to each other when they did stuff like this. Dumb, perfect couples and their stupid talking without speaking.

And so, three adults and a teenager gathered around to talk about an amateur horror movie. Nothing weird about that. It was just some adults and a kid out in the woods at night, out where nobody could hear them screaming.

Hmm. The more Mae thought about this, the sketchier it seemed.

Thankfully, they had the script to distract them from the intense sketchiness.

In its current state, the movie was about a paranoid woman who wandered into the woods for unclear reasons, and encountered a cult of murder-witches. Seeing as only two parts had been written so far, it was a very small cult. A cult consisting of just Mae.

"I thought of asking some of my friends to play the other cultists," Lori said. "But… I didn't." She didn't add anything on to that. Mae decided to leave it alone. No point in, like, hassling her about all of this.

"Um. I have a question." Angus said. "Why is this cult, like, killing people?"

Lori frowned. "I… had, like, some exposition written up for it, but I couldn't work it in with only the two characters. I dunno. I feel like I keep rewriting this story in my head."

"You're doing pretty good," Mae said. "I tried to write a horror story once in, like, middle school. But I got bored, and then got hooked on this video game about ghosts." And then the softball game had happened, but that didn't really enter into things.

"You never told me you were writing something," Gregg said, surprised.

Mae shrugged. "Eh. I didn't really want anyone to know. It was really bad."

"Wait," Angus said.

"No, no," Mae said hurriedly. "It was really bad. Like, don't make me talk about it. At all. I pretty much just ripped off a bunch of granddad's favorite books."

"No, not that," Angus said. "I smell smoke."

Silence fell on the group as Angus's words sunk in. Mae sniffed the air and felt her nose twitch. She could smell it, too. There was a fire somewhere close. Squinting, Mae looked into the distance and saw an orange flicker among the trees.

"Oh, weird," Lori said. "Guess someone's burning something."

It was good to see that Lori wasn't filled with the same familiar, terrible dread that was currently suffocating Mae, Gregg, and Angus. She wasn't being reminded of something they'd thought was in the past; something they'd hoped was in the past. Mae felt sick. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

A wordless glance was passed around the three adults, while Lori sat looking over her script. All three of them had the same idea.

"Let's go look at the fire," Mae said.

Okay, from the surprised looks she was getting from Gregg and Angus, apparently they hadn't had the same idea. Oh, well. It was out in the open now.

"Uh, why?" Lori asked. She wasn't frightened; just confused. Mae guessed she'd be confused if she were in Lori's shoes. 'Let's go look at the fire' was an odd thing for an adult to say in most situations.

"Yeah, Mae, are you sure?" Gregg asked. "I mean, do you… like, feel something?"

"I feel sick and weird, but we should still go look," Mae said. "You know, to be safe."

Gregg stood up, his hands in his jacket's pockets. With the weather getting warmer, Mae figured Gregg would be switching to something lighter soon. Then again, he loved that jacket. "Well, I've got knives with me, just in case," Gregg said.

"Bug, leaving the house with that many knives is kind of ridiculous," Angus said. He placed a hand on Gregg's shoulder. They both seemed nervous. Mae was right there with them.

"Lori," Mae said. "Go home, okay? I'll come see you tomorrow up on the roof."

"Is this a thing?" Lori asked, concerned. "You should probably tell me if this is a thing."

"It's a thing, but it's our thing," Mae said. "It's our own weird thing."

Silence. Then, Lori asked something Mae hadn't expected. "Can I come?"

"I don't think that'd be best," Angus said.

Lori looked up at the big guy, concern once again showing on her face. "Why? Is it something dangerous? Do you know what that fire is?"

The answer to both of those questions was a resounding 'maybe.' The odds of it actually being a cultist, and not just some guy burning some taxes or something, weren't too high. Even if it was one of the cultists, would they have a gun? Or would they even want to shoot Mae and her friends?

After all, they'd have no way of knowing Mae and the band had been responsible for the cave in that trapped the others. Right? They'd have to be psychic or something. Or at least, like, a detective.

"Okay, fine," Mae said. "Whatever. You can come. Stay behind us, though, okay?"

Lori nodded. She didn't seem excited, or anything. She was taking this seriously. Mae turned and saw the uncertain looks on Gregg and Angus's faces.

"Dude, are you sure?" Gregg asked.

And Mae was sure. After all, Lori reminded her of herself. And there was no way Mae would've listened to someone telling her not to check out a spooky fire in the woods.

Woods are spooky at night. This is a truth that has been accepted by society since ancient times, when people thought that the world was on a whale's back and hid their pornography inside of logs.

While it wasn't exactly night time yet, it was dark enough that the spook factor of the woods was rapidly rising. Mae, Gregg, and Angus walked side-by-side, their tagalong Lori M. right behind them. Gregg's hands were still in his pockets, likely ready to draw a knife if they bumped into certain robed figures.

The fire was still a distance away. Now that they were moving towards it, though, Mae could see that it was small. And moving. Was it a torch? Who carried around a torch in this day and age? That seemed like a fairly culty thing to do.

Then again, the cultists hadn't been, like, cultists. They'd been a bunch of dads and uncles with guns and smartphones.

Well, dads and uncles and at least one aunt.

Ugh. This was garbage. Why was Mae doing this? She didn't feel like she had last year. Or, at least, she wasn't feeling as bad. Sure, she was having weird dreams, and there was a ghost inside of her head…

Huh. Okay, actually, this was almost exactly like last year. The only difference was it didn't feel like it was eating Mae alive.

The only noises were the ambient sounds of the forest. There were animals crying out in the night, and the sound of twigs snapping underfoot. Mae thought she caught a glimpse of a deer running off to the side, but her focus was squarely on the fire.

"We're being real quiet," Lori whispered. Mae looked over her shoulder, giving the teen what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It came across looking kind of pathetic. Mae really needed to work on her expressions. Lori just looked more scared than anything.

They were getting close now. Mae could actually hear the crackling of the flames. Though it was dark, Mae could just faintly see the figure holding the torch. They were dressed in dark clothes, and had their back to them.

"Shit," Mae whispered, "Is that one of them?"

"I don't know," Angus said. "I mean, we didn't get a good look at any of them last time. It was dark."

"I'm really confused," Lori whispered.

The figure ahead of them froze. Mae and her friends followed suit. The air suddenly felt colder. The light from the stranger's torch figured in the darkening evening air. Slowly, the fire moved as they turned to face Mae and her group.

Then, the figure began to approach them.

"Shit, shit," Mae whispered. "Gregg. Knives. Knives!"

"Rock. Grab a rock. Grab a rock and throw it."

For once, Mae nearly followed the Dream Casey's advice. She felt herself beginning to bend down to grab a rock. She stopped herself, however, when the figure opened their mouth to spoke. What they said nearly froze her in shock:

"Hey, guys," Germ said.

Mae stared, mouth open, at the weirdest member of her group of friends. Germ Warfare was standing in the middle of the woods, a torch in his hand. The whole scene was so surreal that Mae almost thought she was dreaming.

"What're you doing out here?" Germ asked, lifting the torch to better illuminate the scene.

"What are we doing out here?" Mae asked. "What are you doing out here? Why do you have a torch?"

Germ stared at Mae as if what she'd just asked was obvious. Mae guessed that a lot of weird things seemed obvious to Germ.

"I live not too far away," Germ said. "And it's dark."

"Don't you have a flashlight, or something?" Gregg asked. He looked concerned, but now that the panic had died down, Mae got the feeling that he was envious of Germ's torch. Hell, Mae was feeling a little jealous herself. She wished she could carry around a thing that was on fire.

Germ didn't answer Gregg's question. Instead, he looked in Mae's direction. "Hey, Mae, are you okay?" He asked. Mae had gotten used to Germ's abrupt subject changes. What she hadn't gotten used to was how weirdly in-tune Germ was with her. He always seemed to notice when something weird was going on. She didn't know if that meant he was observant, or psychic.

"Germ, could you please step back?" Angus asked. "That torch is really hot."

"Nah, that's just you, Cap'n," Gregg said, and then laughed.

"No, seriously, Mae, are you alright?" Germ asked. "You look weird."

"I'm fine, Germ," Mae said. "You just scared us, is all. Walking around in the dark with an effing torch. We're trying to make a movie here, Germ. We don't have time to get spooked."

Germ looked surprised. Sort of. Again, he was hard to read. "The band is making a movie?" He asked.

"Um, no," Lori piped up. She stepped to the front of the group, into the light of Germ's still unexplained torch. "I am. I'm making a movie."

"Oh, cool," Germ said. Then, prompted by seemingly nothing, he brought forth another of his sudden topic changes. "So, I saw a dude up by the mines yesterday."

Deathly quiet. That's a phrase Mae almost never used, but that's what fell on the group. Except Lori. She was the regular kind of quiet.

It was Gregg who broached the first question. "What were you doing up at the mines?" He asked.

"I go up there a lot," Germ said. "Ever since you guys told me what happened last November. There was a weird dude up there, just staring at the mines."

Lori looked around. The poor kid was completely lost. Mae almost envied her. "Wasn't last November when you had your head injury?" She asked, turning to face Mae. "What is all of this? I really don't understand what's going on."

"I don't, either," Mae said, "and I actually went through it."

Mae closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. A weird weirdo up at the mines didn't mean anything. It was probably just, like, someone who was really into mines and rocks. It couldn't be one of the cultists, right? Right. The odds were slim. Best to put this out of mind, and focus on anything else.

Deep breaths. In, out, in, out. Mae exhaled sharply before opening her eyes.

"Thanks for the info, Germ," she said. "Let's talk some more about this tomorrow, okay?"

"Uh. Okay," Germ said. "Not a lot more to talk about. It was just a dude."

"A dude at the mines," Gregg muttered. He sounded as nervous as Mae felt.

Germ didn't respond to that. He turned about face and began walking away, taking the heat of the torch with him. Before he left, Mae thought he had given a concerned look in her direction.

Once again, the group of four was all alone in the forest. No one said anything for what felt like the longest time. Wordlessly, they turned and returned to where they'd come from. No one seemed to have the energy to continue the movie talk.

The night sky was cluttered with mismatched, crooked trees. The woods were all around the small field where the party at Possum Leap had been held. The fire didn't give off the light amount of light. It was only as bright as Germ's torch had been.

There were other people at the party tonight. Mae couldn't see them, but they were there. They were like the opposite of paper dolls; holes in the shape of people cut out of the night sky. They were all talking amongst themselves. They didn't use words when they spoke. Just noise.

Mae tried to block them all out. She sat huddled up in front of the fire, her knees pressed against her chest. Casey sat off to the side, tossing some small twigs into the fire. They looked like twigs, at least.

"The woods are always dark, aren't they?" Casey asked. "It's getting dark later, but woods are always dark. Even during the day."

"I want to cry," Mae muttered. "I want to be sick. I want everything to be wrong so I have a reason to feel like I do."

"Everything is wrong," Casey pointed out. "You've got things you can never tell anyone. Those people's families will never get closure. None of us will ever get closure."

"God, shut up," Mae said. Now she was facing Casey. She hadn't moved her head. She was just looking at him. "Are you even real? Like, a real ghost? You don't talk like Casey. You barely act like him. Whenever I try to look at you, you're just…"

"Shapes?" Casey finished.

"Just answer the effing question."

The Dream Casey was quiet. He looked at the fire contemplatively. Finally, he sighed, and dusted off his hands.

"I don't know," he said. "I can't answer your question, Mae. This stupid town took everything from me, and in the end I'm not sure if I ever really existed."

"That's not a good answer," Mae said.

Casey shrugged. "It's the only one you're gonna get."

The two were silent for a long time. All around them, the noise of the invisible partygoers continued. They were getting louder and louder, but Mae couldn't react. She couldn't even cover her ears.

All of the empty spaces were being filled. Trees and stars were everywhere. Mae didn't have room to move.

She didn't want to, anyway.

[woggr]

Core memories

Gary way house. I don't remember my exact age, I couldn't have been much older than 3 or 4. Threatening my brother while holding a knife in my hands because I was filled with so much hate caused by the innocent teasing. Then being cut by that very blade and running to the very brother I had previously threatened. I didn't understand the important lessons I learned in that moment. But I understand now, hate brings with it fear. And with fear we often do things we don't want to based on natural instinct, thus, the natural man is an enemy to not just God, but all mankind. However, that hate was soon forgotten and dominated by a love that exists only through family bonds. I'm almost thankful for the constant reminder I get every time I look at and feel the scar left on my left index finger. That experience helped shape and mold the man I would one day become.

Jumping sideways off the diving board because I knew I was a weak swimmer, being pulled out by a close friend then a frantic mother taking me into her arms as I cried. Seeing the deepest concern in my mothers eyes has left an imprint on my soul that will never be forgotten. Her endless and all consuming love is fundamental in my development. Just as much then as it is now.

North Carolina. I don't remember the year, or the name of the place, but I'll never forget the events that took place and the lessons learned. We were out site seeing. I only remember my mom and my grandma, though I know others were present. We were at a rock and I was climbing around, off on my own like I always do. There was a big rock that drew my attention and my adventurous spirit took me to it where I was climbing around on the edge of a cliff. I didn't see and I couldn't comprehend the amount of danger I was in. Im still not sure if I even was in any danger. What has stuck with me is the tone of my grandmothers voice when she called out to me, begging me to get down and return to her. She loved me deeply and I felt it deep within me that day. Though she is no longer with us, my love for her grows daily as I realize her immense impact on my life.

Sometime as a younger child, while living at our home at fox pointe circle. Something happened with me and my mom. A disagreement of sorts where I had become very upset with her. I screamed at her and told her how much I hated her and never wanted to see her again. I took off, bound and determined to run away forever. I ran outside down the drive way, I had turned the corner and was storming down the street when I saw my dad appear from above. I feared his wrath as he spoke to me with such power that I had no choice but to obey his command. He told me to get back inside immediately, though reluctant at first I joined him in his office for a little chat. Many of my pivotal and fundamental moments were spend in that office, conversing with my father. This particular time I remember being terrified of what I had just done, I had again acted out of anger and let my emotions drive my actions. But in a calm and loving manner my dad reminded me of the love my mother had for me, he told asked me to explain the situation and in only the way a father could he expressed not only his love for me, but made clear and supported the love my mother had for me. He told me that he understood my feelings and ensured that what she did, and what she was doin was in my best interest. He didn't hit me or throw me across the room, though I know he could have and I probably deserved it, but he talked to me with love. PARENTS, plural, parents form their children at an early age. Two is always better than one and I couldn't be more blessed than by having two outstanding parents.

The rocket derby in Boy Scouts. I had dominated everyone in the races that took place that day and without a doubt had the best rocket there. But I didn't get a blue ribbon that day for taking first. I opted to give it to someone who holds a very special place in my heart. He was a chapman boy, Matt I think I name was, and he was mentally handicapped. He'd never won anything before in his life and I was fortunate enough to have had many blue ribbons already. That day was his day. He was awarded first place and the blue ribbon was his and the joy I saw in him, the smile on his face, was better than any prize I had ever received in my life. I remember people coming up to me and thanking me and telling me what a good thing it was that I had done. I didn't care about what they were saying. I cared about him, making other people happy makes me happy. The pure love of Christ is charity, for the first time I tasted that love and today am driven by it. I know Matt has a special place in gods kingdom and I hope to be aside him and his glory.

Not soon after it was time for the first day of Jr. High. Those feelings of insecurity and fear were haunting. Walking through those doors were like walking through a worm hole and flying out into the unknown corners of the universe... And in the end I loved it. I learned from it and grew. I still dread going into unfamiliar situations, but now I have more faith that if what I'm doing is right, everything will work out for the best.

Not being able to play bball with my Bros until I'd made three straight free throws. I'm always trying to be the best. I am no respecter of people, or age, or position. No matter what the circumstances I strive to be the very best.

Rich leaving me crying in our garage in our huge house all alone. I was terrified of that huge place alone. I felt like I was abandoned.

Playing soccer with Matt in the back yard. Not just once or twice. But on many occasions. He was almost like a second father figure to me. More than just a brother, but someone who mentored me, inspired me and pushed me to become something more than I thought I could be. His love, patience and relentless pursuit of excellence is in large part why I've experienced the success I have. Why he had to go through the struggles he has I do not know, but as selfish as it is I'm glad he did. I saw it, I witnessed and experienced it, and I have learned from it. God knows I would never have become the person I am today had it not been for him. I pray that He might bless him and his beautiful family in all their endeavors. Thank you Matt. You will always hold a special place in my heart.

With that same attitude I was now in high school with new trials and placed in unfamiliar circumstances. The night I was heavily pressured to drink, do drugs, and have sex. The details don't have much significant but the preparations do. It was the biggest party of the year and everyone was there. I knew there would be people doing things contrary to my beliefs but I was unsure of how I would react. I remember being asked if I'd like to join in on some of the activities taking place out back, I walked with them and saw what was happening. As I stood there surrounded by all these popular kids my mind was on one thing. The words of my mother. She had warned me about these types of circumstances and I quite honestly wanted to participate. It appeared as if they were having the time of their life. I didn't trust them, my trust lied in my mother and father who had warned me again that and in the moment, I am grateful to say, I refused their enticing offers to engage in these foolish activities all because the spirit of a loving mother was with me. And though she was far away, I felt her close to me that night.

Next as I was preparing to submit papers to serve a mission I was faced with the challenge societal pressures. Growing up in a devout LDS family, all my brothers had served missions and to tell the truth I wasn't sure if that's what I really wanted to do. I got that their experiences had changed their life, or so they said. But I was worried about my education. I have alway been a very curious person and had always sought to learn and understand as much as possible. I thought I might be better had I stayed and continued with the path I was on. In this time of confusion I was one again summoned to the office of my father. I have thought about this brief meeting often. This may have been the realist conversation I've ever had with my father. He sat me down and told me that he didn't want me to feel pressure to serve. That no matter my decision I would always be loved the same by him and my mother. If I didn't want to go then he didn't want me to go! I was taken back at his, I thought that's what I was supposed to do. What he expected and wanted me to do. Prior to that conversation I had practically made up my mind. I saw myself as more intelligent, with more potential than my other family members and needed to feed that by furthering my education and starting the next step of my life. This conversation changed the course of my life. All the sudden that pressure was gone. I had the freedom to choose to do what I wanted, just like I always had. What I do in life is on me, and that's who I have to do it for. I can't worry about what others think or say or do. I have to choose what would be best for me in any given situation. My parents won't always be there to yell at me or sit me down and lecture me. What I do needs to be for me and what I feel is best for me and mine.

During those two years I was nothing more than an obedient instrument in the hands of the lord. Because of it, I will never be the same.

The best day of my life happened inside a church house on an ordinary Sunday. Being the person I was I always attended church. It was a singles ward in north salt lake. I was sitting with whichever friend decided to come that Sunday and still remember, clear as day, the first time I saw her. This gorgeous blonde comes walking in and sits with some other girls. I stare the whole time at the back of her perfect head. Hair done up, wearing her Sunday best. Every time she turned to talk to a friend I get tunnel vision, I think to myself, "turn more so I can see more your face!" Nothing else mattered that day. I knew no matter what I had to meet this girl, and I had to make an impression. Sacrament ended and we were to attend Sunday school, based on what month we were born we would attend one of two classes. That didn't matter to me. I went to e the class I thought she entered. As the lesson started and I finished scoping out the room I didn't see her, so I stood up and walked out. Looking back this was probable offensive to whomever was teaching but again, nothing else mattered but meeting this girl. I open the door to the other class and spot her right away. Sitting close to some friends as close to her as possible I was as outspoken as I had ever been. Answering questions just to talk, just to get her to notice me. Acting out with my friends dying for her to see me and acknowledge me (later on I got in trouble for acting out in that class... Worth). After class we spoke. She was apparently close friends with one of my best friends girlfriends. The girl I met that day was brooke. I now call her my wife (more appropriately Wifefriend). I now see that ever second of my life prior to that encounter had been preparing me to meet that one special girl. She is my soulmate. She understand me like no one else does. We get each other and help each other become more. She sees potential in me that I pray I will fulfill. Her faith helps me see that our fate is decided and inevitable. Her love inspires me and her hope drives me.

This was the best day of my life because it was the day I met my wife. No one else could do for me what she has done. No one else can drive me like she does. No one else sees what she sees and no one else could ever replace her. I thank and praise God for his marvelous gift of a loving wife who I know will always be there for me. Our love runs deep, she will one day bare my children and be the mother she has been predispositioned to be. The mother that helps develop and form her children. She's read of freuds theories of psychological development and understands them. She gets the flaws and knows the truths. I trust her and her judgement and this higher level of knowledge is only a piece to the perfect puzzle she's mastered of motherhood.

Atop mt. Constitution with my family on advise from my uncle lee.

Donating to charity for Christmas. Because I have been given much I too must give.

Today I interviewed someone I worked with previously. He was the bar tender when I was working my way through school at the og in sugar house. It's an interesting situation to be in where I can determine the future of this individual. Had I disliked him he wouldn't be working for us today. Because he left a good impression on me early on in life he had been put in a position of opportunity. He will now determine his own future.

[frosttreatment-blog]

Log 2 - Intake

     The following is a transcript from a recording, beginning at approximately 20 minutes into my weekly session with the Muriel Jenkins.

Having been unable to sleep every night this week, anticipating a moment again similar to what I experienced during dinner Sunday night, I spent a great deal of time pondering what steps I could take. Finding an inconspicuous recording app for my phone was a suitable use of my time waiting for Emma Frost to force herself into someone else’s mind, so that she may get a quote from me.

I spotted it as soon as it began during my afternoon appointment with Muriel. Mrs. Jenkins was in the middle of a story, an altercation with her daughter-in-law, when she suddenly went blank behind the eyes. By the time she was done readjusting her posture, I was already waiting for the RP dialect.

I did try to hide my outrage, my anxiety, my exhaustion in wanting to know what this game was that I was being forced to play. Most importantly, I stayed calm while reaching for my phone, to check the time as a reference for my next discussion point - when in actuality, I was turning said recorder app on.

____________________________________________________________________

DR: -irty[thirty] five minutes left in her session. You don’t think that’s unfair?

FROST: Oh please; I’m creating a false memory of her blathering on to you for another hour, before coming to the astute observation that she desperately wishes she could be the one married to her son. Homework for next week is to stop putting that reverse oedipus baggage on other-

DR: Ms. Frost.

FROST: Please, darling, you can call me Emma. No need for pretensions here.

DR: Funny you should say that, don’t you think?

FROST: Excuse me?

[silence]

DR: You know, many health professionals would agree that I would need to need to see you, in person, for a proper intake.

FROST: I’ll mail you a bloody picture, then. I think we can both agree that my situation calls for a level of…discretion. I would much rather project an image of myself wearing only the finest Oscar de la Renta for you to see instead of this wrinkled landscape, but…You’re immune to telepathy. Or so they say.

DR: My reputation has held up, I imagine.

FROST: Why? Because I’ve only tried reading your mind 4 times since this conversation began? Yes, you’re just as advertised. I can’t hear anything but ocean sounds in there.

DR: Oh, c'mon-

FROST: It’s true! Like listening to a sea shell. It’s rather calming, actually.

DR: …I like to think telepaths enjoy being around someone whose mind is closed off to them.

FROST: But then however do you blackmail them? [silence] FROST: See? I don’t need telepathy to know you’re waiting for me to tell you I’m joking.

DR: May I ask what your goal here is? Are you seeking treatment, or is this…part of some…

FROST: Grand scheme? As if I were some entendre-named Bond villain. Really doctor, I thought your bedside manner would be much better than this.

DR: Well in both our defenses, I’ll admit to considering you a far more serious threat than a Bond villain. I don’t think you can blame me for anticipating that the White Queen might have moving pieces at work

FROST: Flattery will get you nowhere. And for your information… [silence] FROST: Yes. I am looking for an intake. To begin seeing a therapist. To begin seeing you as my therapist, I’ve decided.

DR: Alright, and what are the circumstances surrounding your-

FROST: You can’t be serious.

DR: -I know the headlines. I also know you can’t always trust the news.

FROST: Would you look at that, Muriel has a lovely stash of airline liqueurs in her purse…

DR: Although when the news is–

[Frost opens Muriel Jenkins’s purse]

DR: Please, don’t make a patient of mine drink in session.

FROST: But it’s my favorite kind of drink. All the chemistry, none of the calories. I’ll just add a little, clearly already present, alcoholic’s guilt in her morning routine’s memory.

DR: Emma, I won’t talk to you if-

[Emma has Muriel Jenkins drink from one of her travel sized bottles]

FROST: You were saying; something about the news?

[silence]

DR: Reports…of you shooting down an aircraft full of human beings-

FROST: -INhuman beings, darling. And my god, how does anyone expect to get drunk off these? [Emma has Muriel take another drink.] FROST: Now, allow me to clarify something. Firstly, you *are a mutant, yes?

DR: Yes.

FROST: And I know from poking around your husband’s brain that he’s a mutant as well, among other things-

DR: Excuse me?

FROST: -So you’ll allow me to be candid with you, I’m sure, in asking you…Do you know what an Inhuman is?

DR: Ah…yes. Those with Kree ancestry born human, but affected by the Terrigen Mists by way of-

FROST: Very scholastic, but you know that’s not what I mean. Mutant-to-mutant, love. What is an Inhuman? 

[Emma has Muriel take another drink.]

FROST: I’ll tell you what a mutant is. The next step. The future of our world. And hated, set aside as “other” because of it. Because of fear. An Inhuman, on the other hand, is a party that the pleural YOU can join! No messy ‘mutation’ to pile onto an already abysmal puberty, rather Terragenesis is the wonderful prize given for being otherwise completely mundane. A change you CHOOSE to become part of so there’s something to fill that deep deep void. Hate your job and wife and sodding kids? Well cross your fingers and pray your ancestors were experimented on by aliens, because you too can become a completely different person overnight! Sounds rather akin to Scientology, don’t you think?

[Emma has Muriel take another drink.]

DR: I’m hearing a lot of anger.

FROST: Oh ding-bloody-ding–These monsters have taken EVERYTHING from me! With everybody watching on slack-jawed and hypnotized by a royal sovereign’s PR machine! Those savages have a piece of my fucking body kept as a TROPHY!

DR: I…feel your…frustrations; obviously. My husband and I were terrified of M-Pox, we didn’t know whether to pull the children out of school, if we should–did you say, “a piece of your body”?

FROST: They’re super-powered cult, and somehow in the name of unbiased news we’ve once again we’ve allowed lunatics normalcy. While perpetuating THEIR lies!? What about the people THEY’VE killed!? If they want to gas us, I say what I’ve done is proper justice!

[silence]

DR: Alright.

[silence]

FROST: Alright!

[silence]

DR: So…do you want to take that again, or can I speak?

FROST: Excuse me? Don’t you think for a second that the rumors might not true, doctor. You have no idea what I can d-

DR: Why are you giving me super villain?

[Muriel (Emma) stands up from my couch, throwing an empty miniature bottle to the floor]

FROST: YOU will learn your PLACE. If you’re going sit there ‘throwing shade’, I will remind you that I am not only the ONLY Queen in this room, but I was the closest thing to the bloody matriarch of the whole damned mutant species!

DR: And I don’t disagree.

FROST: Then maybe you can tell me why I turned into some INSANE BLOODY BACKGROUND FUGITIVE OVERNIGHT!! 

DR: Emma-

FROST: And I know I’ve done a hell of a lot of wrong in the past, so maybe I simply deserve it by rite; you don’t have to tell me that! But first you better ring Wanda Maximoff: We can have a 3-way session comparing the pros and cons of genocide vs solving world hunger for a few months - If she’s not too busy doing yoga all across Europe-

DR: 'The Scarlet Witch’ is not a patient of mine-

FROST: I even specifically put the old college try into NOT killing Charles Xavier, for YEARS longer than reasonable, some would very well say!

DR: -but if it’s any consolation-

FROST: If Scott and I got amnesia and snoged Dr. Doom would Captain America have given us a shiny new team as well??

DR: -I agree with you.

FROST: I-……………….

[silence. Muriel (Emma) collects herself.]

FROST: ….I mean, What Is this trend? This sudden surge of affection for some Camelot sideshow-

DR: You don’t need to tell me. You were in my husband’s mind: I’m sure you selected us based on extracting from him memories of us, well, discussing you, often. I dare say he’s a fan.

FROST: Of course, though I didn’t stay long enough to see your feelings through his memory. There was so much affection for you and your children gushing in there that I thought I was going to be sick.

DR: Thank you.

FROST: Clever boy; I’m still holding you hostage though.

DR: To treat you? Treat your anger? Your guilt?

FROST: I never said I felt guilty.

DR: You mentioned feeling deserving or your…status change.

FROST: Watch it.

DR: And you did shoot down a shipload of Inhumans.

FROST: Yes and I would do it again.

[silence]

DR: So then…just your anger?

FROST: Just my…everything.

[silence]

DR: And I’m going to assume that I don’t have a choice.

FROST: Obviously. Especially since I can’t erase your memory of this conversation.

DR: But you’ve made it very clear that you have easy access to anyone in my life.

FROST: So we shouldn’t have any problems with privacy, wouldn’t you say?

[A knock from outside my door can be heard]

FROST: Now shall we set a day and time where you’re meeting with someone more pleasant looking? Though I do enjoy how delightfully vacant Muriel’s head is. Complimentary drinks certainly have their appeal…

[End of recording]

___________________________________________________________________

     The next few minutes were somewhat staggering. My next patient cut my recording off by impatiently calling my cell, and suddenly Emma was gone. Then there was a very confused, and very suddenly drunk, Muriel Jenkins to deal with.

Emma left no indication of when I would next hear from her, but I believe her self-conducted intake was a success. My professional opinion was that Ms. Frost was looking for validation, some sign that she’s not completely out of touch with reality for seeing her past few years as an undeserved role reversal. From what I can gather, it seems as though this encounter was a test of how sympathetic I would be to her in her current state. Behind the razor sharp wit and the scowl, she was looking for someone potentially unbiased, someone who would not be intimidated into saying what she deeply wants to hear: Emma was right. Whether I meant to convey that message to her, and whether I’ll regret it, remain to be seen.

I’ve also emailed my current patients to remind them all to never have foreign substances in their system, or on their person, while in session.