#its one thing for an adult to jump out of a spinning crashing car into another i dont want to watch the little kid do it abjfvjvekbeuvr

[toytulini]

wow they really made jason momoas villain in fast x so......babygirl

[creativeashproductions]

Elysium // Luke Patterson

Summary: The boys of Julie and the Phantoms need a hail Mary to dethrone Downslide from opening for Panic! At the Disco. While Willie is done to help his blue eyed crush and his friends there’s one issue: Willie can’t drive the bus. Moving a bench is one thing but driving an entire tour bus?  There’s only one person who can and Willie’s not sure where she is after year of no communication

Warnings: Swearing, angst, talk of death (it’s a ghost show, why is this a warning??), mention of assault, violence, and fluff.

Words: 11.5k

A/N: This is why I haven’t posted much in the last week. I’ve been writing this massive fic that I refused to turn into a series. My god, 11k words. I don’t think I’ll be doing this again. Enjoy and comment if you figured out who Rudy is!

Masterlist

There wasn’t much in the afterlife that you enjoyed after time spent in the limbo between the living and dead. Listening to songs before they were released lost its appeal just as much as dancing on stage with the ballet companies around the world, of being an unseen extra in shows and films being filmed.

Then you found a purpose a couple, well it could be more than a couple, years ago when you found a lost soul. William Young, Willie to his friends, had been sitting on the curb staring at the pavement entirely still as he had for two days.

The time from the last breath you took to walking the streets of Los Angeles was a blur in all honesty. The years bled together as you stayed stationary in a world that kept on spinning and changing, growing up. You had watched your friends hit new milestones you could only daydream about. Friends that graduated college and built new lives on the ashes of memories that included you.

Today’s walk was an attempt to escape your friends’ greying versions standing in front of a once vibrant sculpture. It happened every single year, but this one hurt the most. Listening to your friends recall stories of all the adventures you did together.

From being drunken idiots jumping off cliffs into that one lake the summer of freshman year. Or making a bonfire on the school’s roof with all the entryways blocked, rather stupid with the exits being blocked as well. Sneaking into concerts and stealing that one car that came close to sending you to boarding school.

The rebellion that still lived in you had mellowed in the five individuals with the adult responsibilities of family and work. Martha had removed all piercings but her lobes while Chase quit dying his hair colour. Jordan now had three children and a bought house.

Seeing the group no longer young had made your feet swiftly move from the memorial for a walk. The only thing that stopped you in your tracks was tripping over something in front of you.

“Ouch.” You hissed rolling onto your back with a moan of pain that faded with the sniffles.

Curled into his knees, sitting on the curb was a teenage boy about your age. Long hair curtaining his profile you found your eyes grasping the cracked helmet that spoke for itself abandoned by his side.

“Your kinda a hazard there.” You simply spoke sitting down next to the distraught teenager, “Heads up, I suck at comforting people.”

At his silence, you spoke once more, “I’m digging the tie-dye. Did you do it yourself?”

“This is some kind of stupid coma dream right?” The boy’s voice was husky from crying and disuse, “I’m probably in some kind of hospital with a tube down my throat.”

“I’d say yes, but it would be a blatant lie.” You spoke twirling a loose thread on your jeans while the stranger gazed at a spot on the street.

His dark brown eyes bloodshot as he remembered the car honking mere seconds before he heard the sound of a thud. He recalled struggling to breathe with his broken ribs and his screams being illustrated with bloodstains.

He remembered thinking how he had just bought that board a week ago with his allowance.

“Am I really dead?”

“Yes. We’re are a couple ghosts in a lively city.” You informed him with one handheld in the space between your ethereal forms. The teen hesitantly placed his hand in yours with a firm shake.

“William but call me Willie.” He softly told you, catching sight of the patch on your jean jacket—one of many from both when your grandma owned it and then when you did.

“I’m Y/N. Let’s blow this disappointment. I’m gonna teach you everything you need to know.” Brushing off the invisible dust on your jeans, you held your hand out to him, “We’re about to make the afterlife our bitch.”

A stark contrast to his former hesitance he immediately grasped your hand to tug himself off the curb. The forlorn skater didn’t question the board in your hand or how he could possibly even touch his own board. He didn’t wonder how it wasn’t in pieces like it had been when he first got hit.

That rebellion that ended your life flared again in the presence of your best friend with crashing Justin Bieber’s house. Of rearranging items in classrooms to freak teachers out and sitting in the cars turning the radio on and off. Haunting the living until the friendship fractured under the influence of a powerful ghost.

Caleb Covington had bewitched the skater with promises and extravagant gifts until Willie had taken the offer.

“He’s not like you said he was! I think you should give him a chance!” Willie cried following you around the place you had taken to be home.

“Willie he’s a bad guy! He butters you up until you give him what you want! That’s when you see his true colours. All he wants is your soul to power his magic and spread his reach!”

“I got to talk to my sister!”

“Your sister is five years old! It’s not Covington that gave you the opportunity. She won’t remember the experience as anything other than an invisible friend!”

“There are so many people at the Club that we can talk to. Aren’t you tired of the same routine and people we see?”

Willie’s pleading brought your full attention to the skater avoiding your gaze, “William Young…you took his offer.”

Willie tore his gaze from the art on the wall to find yours blatantly glaring at him with a bucket of random colour in your hand.

“The Club is going to France to tour around the country for a while. I’m dead, so I might as well make the best of it. Besides who gets to skate through the Louvre!” Willie beamed, watching as a small smile, found its way on your face at his excitement, “I’m sure Caleb would let you come to the Club tonight!”

“Willie, you are my best friend, but I’ve already seen the Club. It’s not my style, and I want nothing to do with it.”

That interaction was one of the very few speckled through the years when Caleb discovered who you were. No matter his offers, you never took the deal and when he saw how close you and Willie where he kept the skater busy. The Club didn’t appear in Los Angeles for a long time until Willie’s distance seemed too great to bridge.

“So, you need a way for the slot to be empty?” Willie asked the trio of ghosts all spread around the area.

Unfortunately for Luke, the only person they could get help from was from the very guy that placed them in a predicament. While Alex was the one spearheading the conversation with the long-haired skater Luke was glowering in his direction.

“The Orpheum was the thing we never got to do. We spent hours practising and performing with one goal-“

“Play the Orpheum and get distance from our parents. Well, at the time that streetdog and becoming legendary was my main focus.” Reggie recounted the feeling of suffocating in a house filled with fighting. A home he wished still stood, now dead all he wanted was to see his parents.

“We almost did it too.” Luke pouted relaxing his glare at the skater who openly sent apologetic gazes at Alex’s bandmates.

“So, we need to get rid of the opening band.” Willie nodded to himself, thinking about ways before he caught sight of the abject horror on the band. The skater’s eyebrows raised, “I know I deeply fractured the trust, but I’m not suggesting murder.”

“Okay. Good.” Reggie whistled relaxing his tense posture while Luke grumbled under his breath an insult that in turn got Alex’s arm into the guitarist’s ribs.

“Your best bet would be getting the bus out of LA. The band will probably celebrate the upcoming gig.”

“Could you make the bus disappear?” Alex hesitantly questioned shifting in his now vintage sneakers. The blonde-haired drummer flushed slightly under the endearing smile from the skater. The feelings create a confliction within Alex under Willie’s issue, leading them straight into a madman’s hands.

“I can move a bench, turn sirens on, but a bus is outside my paygrade.” Willie openly admitted showing his hands deep in his pockets, “The only person other than Caleb that has enough power-“

“-is he just as evil?” Luke demanded crossing his arms to glare at the male that had unfortunately caught the interest of Alex.

However, Luke couldn’t blame Alex for falling for this guy because well, Luke saw the teenage ghost’s appeal. Willie was attractive, but he wasn’t the type of person Luke would fall for. Plus he had initially made Alex incredibly happy, and Luke would never blame Alex for that.

“She is as different from Caleb as one can be. She uh…she taught me everything about being a ghost. Actually, found me where I died.” Willie cleared his throat as the guilt and sadness reared its head from deep within him. The guilt of leaving his little sister to grow up without him and the sorrow of not growing up with the girl.

It wasn’t often Willie allowed himself to remember the little girl, barely five when he died, who was always dancing. His little sister adored the colour purple and anything shiny and more than once Willie had let her dress him up. Willie’s greatest regret is that he’d never have that interaction with her. God, she’d be around his age now and in high school.

“Okay, so where is she?” Reggie clapped his hands, bringing the skater out of his thoughts and back into the present.

Luke saw the hesitation in Willie, “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“Kinda?” Willie trailed off bouncing on the balls of his feet, “I haven’t seen her in years now. Last time I saw her we fought about the whole joining Caleb thing? I’m not even sure if she’s still in LA.”

“Of fucking course,” Luke grunted shoving both hands in his hair taking a few steps away from the other ghosts.

First, he dies, then he gets caught up in some bullshit revenge plot, then makes a deal with the devil without realizing it, and now their one chance is going up in flames. Luke Patterson was livid with the universe and the shitty hand he had been dealt, but at least he had his friends with him.

“It can’t hurt to look for her?” Reggie innocently offered with a shake of his shoulders, “It’s not like we have any other option.”

“Did we ever even have options?” Luke hissed, causing Willie and Alex each to flinch with the different guilt they carried.

Alex was guilty of going to Willie for help when getting back at Bobby was the biggest thing. Willie was guilty of ignoring his instincts on keeping Alex as far from Caleb as he could be he just wanted to impress the drummer. It’s not like Willie had many options for dating, and well, Alex was the first to get his entire focus.

“Dude. Stop. No one saw it coming.” Reggie bumped his hip against the annoyed guitarist, “Let’s find this ghost and get our shot at playing.”

The quartet of dead guys didn’t have high hopes of finding the girl in question, but it seemed the universe took pity on Luke Patterson. Just two hours into their search on the edges of the city limits an individual was walking.

The person’s stature leaned against a smashed concrete wall of the skeleton of where a building once was. The only thing the group could make out was a faded jean jacket with splotches of colour. Her ankles crossed as her back leaned against the cement, oozed laid back confidence. Coming closer, Luke noticed the sunglasses perched on top of her head and the lips painted dark.

“What do you need Willie? I heard you were looking for me.” The husky voice drew Luke in the most. The lead guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms enamoured with the girl.

“How’d-“Willie’s question was cut off as you simply tapped your right index finger against your temple.

“How do you think you managed to get here?” You inquired pushing off the cement to stride over to the group. To Willie’s surprise, he was tugged into your embrace before swiftly pushed away, “Come on. We should head in before someone catches us.”

In the dark as much as the other three ghosts, Willie dutifully followed you past the pieces of cement littered around the area. Gasps of surprise sounded as the once empty space became filled with buildings. It was not as extravagant as the hotel the Club worked out of, but it was hidden from the living and dead eyes.

“Where did this come from?” Reggie gasped astounded by the people once hidden from his view, moving around the area. 

“This is Elysium. Don’t judge the name I lost the right in a poker game with Susie and Rudy. I’m Y/N.” You informed the group leading them to the gate where two people stood stoically guarding it, “Rudy was hellbent on calling it Valhalla.”

“This is Luke, Reggie and Alex.” Willie gestured to the awed trio of musicians only lingering on the blonde. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the attraction between the skater and the blonde; finding a date in the afterlife was a lot harder than the living.

Nodding a greeting to the two ghosts, you lead the group to a building painted a pretty turquoise blue colour. The sign above the double doors a stark white with calligraphy writing simply stating Elysium Management. It was a building set up like an administrative office of three stories, and you led the group right up to the top floor.

“Just a heads up…Rudy is a little suspicious of people.” You admitted standing outside a door with a nameplate the only descriptor, “He’ll come off a little gruff and rude, but when you get passed that he doesn’t shut up.”

“I can hear you through the door dumbass.” The words were called out from the office door opening.

The man standing in the entry wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His honey-brown eyes lit up with a teasing look before it shuttered at the sight of four strangers behind you. Rudy had valid reasons to not fully trust people after the shitshow in his hometown when he was alive.

“And you’ve brought strangers.” Rudy deadpanned with a sigh concluding his sentence as he stepped back into the office. It appeared like the world repositioned itself on the young man’s shoulders once more.

“I should be done within the hour. We can go over everything.” You informed your business partner and friend. Receiving only a nod from Rudy, you closed the door to his office, cutting off the view from your guests.

“He’s..uh.”

“Standoffish? Rudy keeps his past to himself, all he’s ever revealed is that he’s from a town a few hours away.” You spoke, opening the door to your own office decorated differently from Rudy’s more sterile black and white aesthetic.

Your office had splashes of colour with vintage posters of both music and film framed on the walls—a plush couch in the corner with a basket of blankets next to it. Instead of sitting behind the dark desk, you chose the couch instead. As you settled in the corner, you flicked one finger bringing an extra seat over.

The motion shocking the three boys accompanying Willie who had seen the abilities himself.

“Okay so why did you want to search for me?” You questioned the skater leaning back in the seat.

“When did this all happen?” Willie countered gesturing to the office in a building settled in the middle of a ghost town. A literal ghost town.

“There’s an empty lot in LA that used to house an abandoned apartment building that Rudy and I both called home. Of course, it was torn down, and we kinda knew that there’s wasn’t a place that didn’t have the threat of being annihilated at some point.” The memories of those unknown days trickled into your mind among the more positive ones, “We wanted a home. A place to call our own.”

“A week or so later a skittish pixie of a brunette crashed into us full speed. Susie had a certain ability that Caleb desired to have under his thumb. There are so many ghosts he had manipulated into selling him their soul. Rudy and I both wanted to stop Caleb from having that chance for everyone.” You continued, “Can I show you?”

The moon shone through the light clouds as a duo wandered LA’s streets in different mental states. The only home you had known had been unceremoniously ripped down with no future plans in place. Your entire life had been in that apartment in a building you had once thought only you inhabited. You had been unaware that on a separate floor, Rudy had been dwelling.

The two teens in starkly different clothing grew close with each other through the whole being the dead thing they shared. The mission was to find another place too, use but the feeling of home being ripped away tore at their hearts. The apartment was a place Caleb Covington hadn’t been aware of.

Your thoughts threatened to turn darker as a force knocked you onto your bac—aA short brunette groaning in pain to the left of you. The girl was Gwen, who would become very important to both Rudy and you.

I’ve always been a little different than most people. I can move things short distances, but I developed a specific talent. I can get inside people’s minds to plant, remove or alter memories or simply talk and read their thoughts.

The sound of your voice in their heads freaked them out more than they would like to admit. The intrusive tickle of something in their brains unsettling as you made a more present entry so they could feel it.

“What?”

“This is why I can’t be anywhere near Caleb. The whole reason he gives people stamps and takes their souls is because of me.” You fully admitted clasping your fingers in your lap, “He couldn’t cope with the fear of another ghost leaving so added a stipulation to joining his Club.”

“How did you come to create Elysium?” Alex inquired leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees. Luke and Reggie followed his posture as the anticipation built.

“Everyone deserves a safe place. A place as far away from Caleb as possible and we do so for free. No fee is required, and ghosts are free to come and go as they please. They are welcome as long as their unfinished business keeps them in this plane.”

It sounded like a sweet deal to the group of teens, but they had other commitments, “You can tell us more, but we need your help.”

The pleading in the messy-haired brunette tore at your heartstrings like the one time Willie brought you to his house. It had been shortly before your friendship fractured, a few years ago. He had brought you to a suburb for low-income families and straight to the backyard where a twelve-year-old year danced.

The dead skater boy and the rebel sat in the patio chair on the tiny porch nestled in the postmark sized backyard. A quintet of pre-pubescent girls danced on the lawn to some bubblegum pop song. The Young girl was submissive to a more confident girl even when the venue was the Young girl’s home.

“The girl to the left is my little sister Kayla. She’s twelve now, it’s been seven years since I died.” Willie’s brown eyes saddened at the dancer who had a spark of maturity in her eyes, “I check in every once in a while. These are Kayla’s friends. The bossy girl is Carrie, and while the band is a group, she is the unofficial leader of the band Carrie’s Constellations.”

 “She looks happy.”

“Kayla’s always been bubbly in personality, but she had questionable friends.” Willie outright admitted keeping his eyes pinned to the girl that had grown up in a blink of an eye. Her dark hair concealed by the gaudy purple wig; the colour assigned to the teenager.

“It’s nice that she still enjoys dance.” Willie finished reaching out to grab your hand in his and just like that Willie transitioned back into carefree, “I found this really cool skatepark I think you’d like.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Alex winced as the three musicians flinched as a sudden purple spark of colour lit up their midsections.

Like a tentacle, your mind reached into the quiet raven-haired boy with the leather jacket. Beyond the imagery of docile golden retrievers and steaming plates of food, you found the regret and fear in the boy. Stepping into a recent memory, you watched their experience at the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“You’ve met Caleb.” You sighed roughly pushing your index finger between your brows feeling the familiar ache.

“It was a stupid decision,” Luke spoke up, tearing his focus from the mysterious girl that ultimately had the power in her hands. The entire plan was weighing on the decision you would give, “Either we join his house band, or we don’t exist.”

“Hm.” You spoke as the kaleidoscope of colours in Luke’s eyes glittered under the sterile lights of the room. It was difficult to look away from the enthralling teenage ghost, but the emotion wafting off Willie was concerning.

“They died before they could perform at the Orpheum. We’re banking that getting the opening slot with giving them the push into crossing over.” The long-haired skater leaned closer, “I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t do much.”

“So, you want to pull ’09 incident again?” You completely ignored the trio on the couch staring directly at the sheepish skater with raised eyebrows, “Only this time without the train?”

“Train?” Alex whispered, looking between the two long-time friends with interest and then next thing he knew Alex was in the backseat of a van crushed between Reggie and Luke equally confused.

Chicago, Illinois 2009

William Young and Y/N Y/L/N were complete hellions in the ghost world, creating havoc that fascinated the living population. The recent event being the highjacking of a van filled with drunk teenage boys. These boys had been the sole reason a young girl was recovering in a hospital with life-threatening injuries. The scene changed to a hospital room with Willie and Y/N watching a girl with massive bruising laid.

It had hit both Willie and Y/N hard catching the tail end of the new report, Willie thinking of how that could have been his sister. Even if Kayla was only five years old, having a sister set things more in perspective. For you it was a flashback to when you were alive and thus led you to the ICU room for the girl.

Slipping into her unconscious mind was easy but while the injured teen appeared peaceful to the hospital staff, she was anything but. The poor girl’s mind replayed the traumatic incident over and over like a movie; keeping in the shadows, you gently repainted the portrait with lighter and brighter images. 

For Willie, he watched as you wavered on your ghostly feet and smoothed out the features of the girl. The heart monitor subtly changing as the injured girl relaxed, and suddenly your interference heightened her chances of survival.

“I got it.” You spoke to Willie with a heated glare on your features and when the ghostly musician trio blinked they were back in the van.

Your hands gripped the van’s steering wheel with Willie turned in the passenger seat to watch a group of living boys scream. To the living eyes in the van, no one was in the front seats but whispered words spoke into their minds.

You’re going to go straight to the police and tell them what you did. You’ll hand over the photographic evidence and demand the worst punishment. You’ll leave the girl alone, or we’ll come back to finish our job. You will pay for the hospital bills if the family agrees. 

The boys trembled with the putrid scent of urine permeating the enclosed vehicle. The distant sound of a train echoed in the distance as the van stopped on the tracks. No matter how much the living boys moved the doors refused to open, and the windows remained unbreakable.

“WE promise!” The ringleader cried, slamming his shoulder against the door with the train’s bright lights illuminating the van.

“Let us go!” The other screamed, slamming his bruising hands on the window.

Alex was flinching at each slam of fists on the glass, leaving smears of blood. Knuckles broke from the window. At the very last second, your foot slammed the gas pedal taking the van millimetres from the train screeching on the tracks.

You and Willie stared at the stationary train lit up from the van’s headlights with the rhythmic flashes of the red and blue police lights. The van’s seat arrangement was different with the ringleader in the driver’s seat. 

The three ghost musicians standing unseen behind the duo but in the real world out of the dreamlike memory you knew.

Elysium, Present Day

“Holy fucking shit.” Alex cussed out of breath, leaning back on the couch with shaking limbs and fear in his bloodless veins.

Luke’s eyes blinked owlishly at the boy that he had once thought could never do something as terrifying and torturous. He was afraid to even ask the outcome of the life-threatening incident you did on the assailants.

“That is the reason for the train.” You barely glanced at the shaken trio to stare at who had once been your partner in crime, “Willie, I have responsibilities here. We just opened a new division for the children we house here.”

“It would take a few hours.” Willie pleaded, positioning his hands into a pleading position turning on his charm. The puppy eyes you had always struggled to say no to as if you weren’t the type of person easily capable of staying strong.

“We’ll do anything.” Luke pleaded just as much recalling the countless times he had charmed himself out of situations, “Please help us.”

“I’ll have to make arrangements with Rudy and Susie, but I might be able to pull some strings. I’m really sorry Willie, but I’m gonna need to erase your knowledge of this place. There are too many people depending on this setup.”

Outside the Orpheum

Outside the legendary venue, three out of four band members for Julie and the Phantoms walked up to the marquee. Hopefully, the letters for Downslide would be changed into their band name just under the main act. Everything was riding on Willie and Y/N’s capabilities. Trusting the skater was challenging to do and more so someone they didn’t fully know.

“Look, don’t worry, guys. Willie said he’d get us on that marquee.” Alex soothed his friends on each side of him. All three wearing concerned expressions at the place that hopefully was their last stop before crossing over.

“This is gonna work, right?” Reggie questioned with his hand confidently sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. The relaxed posture a juxtaposition to the anxiety and nerves on his flushed face.

“It has to.” Luke’s lips pursed into a pout with his words tinged with a dialect different from his best friends. The faint souvenir from the place he spent a few years growing up before moving to LA.

Luke’s words were highlighted by the groans of pain as that flash of purple courtesy of Caleb’s death stamp appeared. All three hunched over clutched their chests breathing through the pain; Luke was the first to unfurl his form.

“Whoa!” You gasped flashing underneath the marquee beside Willie. Rushing to give Luke support without even a second thought.

When the aftershock faded, the guitarist stood straight up with a thankful smile that boarded on adoration.

“Are you guys, okay?” Willie asked, keeping back with the swell of guilt that happened, seeing the familiar symptoms of post-shock. He had felt them a time or two in the time he had sold his soul to his unfortunate boss.

“Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t felt before,” Alex replied, rubbing his hand over the baby blue shirt he had chosen today. His blue eyes doing their best to avoid looking into the puppy-like ones of the skater, “How’d it go?”

“Well, when that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus 200 miles outside of Vegas.” Willie proudly announcing turning on his heel to show off the Downslide jacket he took from the lead singer. His fist extending to bump yours instinctively before he did so with Luke.

“With no chance of getting back in time.” You snickered in response living on the adrenaline and nostalgia of the rebellion. With Elysium, you had turned around your life, “Meaning-“

“-there’s probably a promoter upstairs right about now freakin’ out.”

 “Nah. This is Hollywood, man.” Willie scoffed with a wave of his hand matching the one you supplied, “I’m sure he’s being very professional.”

As Willie finished his sentence up in the promotor’s office out of earshot of the ghosts stood a very pissed adult. His finger-wagging his finger with teeth clenched, his flushed skin a juxtaposition to the cheery blue Hawaiian style shirt. Frank Wolfe couldn’t believe how stupid his once opening band was.

“What do you mean the bus drove itself into the middle of the desert?” Frank questioned progressively growing more and more frustrated. His assistant Tasha casting concerned looks to her typically collected boss, “BUSES DON’T DRIVE THEMSELVES!”

Tasha flinched at the sudden loud growl of the sentence but more so as Wolfe starting slamming the phone into the cradle. Her fingers halting on her keyboard, going over the list of frequent acts. Unfortunately, the five acts had other commitments causing Tasha to fear tonight. The blonde lady was worried Wolfe could have a breakdown once more.

While Willie snickered to his own words, your eyes, not your mind, could read that Alex wanted to talk to the skater. With only a teasing jab of your elbow in Willie’s ribs you shuffled around the drummer to join Reggie and Luke away from the ‘will they won’t they’ couple.

“So, can you do me a favour?” Luke hesitantly questioned you with his inquisitive eyes a greener colour in the sunlight. His attractive eyes took your full attention with a simple tilt of your head, “Julie’s family means a lot to us, and could you keep an eye on them?”

“And Carlos,” Reggie interjected rocking on his polished pleather boots he had spent ages on finding for his rocker aesthetic back in the ’90s.

“-Julie’s little brother.” Luke supplied at the confusion painted clearly on your pretty features. His green eyes scoured your face as he always did that flushed both his and your faces red.

“Yeah, of course, I can.” You firmly told the two dead boys each standing tense in front of you.

You could easily see the love they held for the living family that had come to mean so much in such a short amount of time. Since first meeting them you had always gotten the feeling that their living years weren’t the best. For Alex, it was living in the ’90s as a young gay teenager during a terrifying time for the LGBTQ+ community. Reggie flinched at the raised voices, and Luke had longingly stared after the happy families milling around the Elysium.

“Did you ever find out what your unfinished business was?” Reggie inquired fixing a strand of his dark hair that had fallen onto his blemish-free skin. Your smile faltered at his question; nonetheless, you answered.

“I did.” The two words carried a sense of pain with them. Your eyes unfocused recalling the euphoric feeling of seeing the breathtaking white light of the peace exuding from the beyond and the agony of denying crossing over.

“How-“

“Hey! Y/N!” Willie called out to the young denim wearing ghost with his beaming grin, “Don’t go stealing buses without me!”

Luke swore he could see your laughter in the air, just as endearing as the smoky quality your voice carried.

“Don’t go glitter bombing criminals.” You returned as your best friend dropped his board to skate off to wherever he was needed. It was bittersweet to reconnect with him knowing that it could be the last time.

When Caleb found out, not an if but a when Willie had a hand in helping his desired band it was high chance Willie would be gone. Caleb was all too powerful, and when he was betrayed, it never ended well.

“I need to get back to Elysium. Susie’s arrival is tonight. Good luck with tonight.” Your words were accompanied by a hug for each of the boys. The one with Luke lingering the most, “I wish you could play for the kids.”

“Yeah. Me too.” The brunette, messy-haired boy’s words carried a hidden desire simply to be in your space more. The teenage ghost helps those in limbo while wearing a jean jacket with patches from many decades. The jacket creating an unknown time you had lived.

“Goodbye, boys.” You told the trio before you poofed away from the busy streets of Hollywood where the band had come full circle in death.

“Are you guys, okay?” Reggie inquired his best friends, forgoing his casual personality for the layers underneath. His blue-green eyes filled with only concern.

Alex and Luke shared a lingering look, “Yeah. We’re okay.”

The dining hall was filled with long tables and chairs populated by the ghostly forms of everyone currently living at Elysium. It was reminiscent of a British book turned film series of youth with magic abilities. The series had been a favourite of a former resident.

“Incredible.” Susie breathed staring at the joyful people having a place to call home. Making the limbo between life and death more bearable.

“We’ve done well. You smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist, “It’s so nice to have you back.”

Elysium was so much more than you could ever hope for. It kept growing and growing with more ghosts. Since the founding of the haven, new developments continuously happened with one resident’s unique ability.

Harvey had joined the haven a year into the founding bringing the ability to gift the residents with the capacity to eat. During his life, Harvey had been a renowned chef and the dream to make food it carried into his death. As long as Harvey cooked the food with his volunteer staff ghosts were able to eat it.

“Harvey has outdone himself again,” Rudy announced his arrival at your side with his arms crossed, displaying his corded muscles. The constellation of moles on his face standing on his pale creamy skin.

“Rudy!” Susie squealed, throwing herself into his arms with the same glee that came each time. Susie and Rudy since their first meeting had a special bond as chosen siblings who bonded over heartache.

Rudy had died, leaving his best friend and his strawberry blonde girlfriend in the living world back in their dark hometown. It was just one tidbit he had revealed throughout your friendship. The only physical connection to his living friends was the three picture on his desk of a group of people.

The first picture had a lean version of Rudy with his arms thrown over a Hispanic boy with a crooked jaw and glimmering brown eyes. The Hispanic boy had his arm around a pretty brunette girl with deep dimples and wavy brown hair. The two boys wore a sports uniform of some kind holding lacrosse sticks.

The second picture had Rudy and the Hispanic teen again but with a beautiful petite strawberry blonde. Along with them was a brunette with blunt chin-length hair and hardened features besides a shorter blonde male with blue eyes.

The last picture was of Rudy with the same Hispanic boy wearing graduation caps and gowns with two beaming adults. The male adult wore a tan shirt adorned with a star on his left pec and dark brown pants. He had to be Rudy’s father with similar features. The woman was of Hispanic descent with laugh lines, and thick dark curly hair pulled into a half do; obviously the Hispanic teen’s mother.

The pain in Rudy’s face each time he saw the pictures closed off a desire to ask him about the people.

“Hello, Susie.” Rudy chuckled, wrapping his arms around her small stature, “How was Europe?”

“Why don’t you ask the five newcomers I found before Caleb?” Susie teased gesturing to the ragtag of new ghosts immersed in conversations.

“Family?”

“A boarding school had a fire. Those five were in the fire when it happened and the only victims out of seven that didn’t cross over.” Susie’s tone faded into a melancholy tone with her small arms wrapping around her middle. Faded brown eyes staring at the younger of the five seeing herself in them.

“That’s terrible.” You whispered, staring at the table with one finger picking the patch of a band from the ’70s, “I can’t imagine how scary that could have been.”

“Yeah.” Susie softly spoke, pushing a strand of her hair off her temple just as equally sad for the way that death had no qualms of how it took.

The youngest ghost in Elysium had been a three-year-old toddler who passed over quickly when he was found by the deceased mother. The two had been separated at death and luckily shared the same unfinished business of finding each other.

“Miss Reynold’s has twelve spirits that finished their business.” Rudy softly informed his two partners. Soft smiles formed on their faces at the happy news of Elysium’s goal being accomplished again.

“May they find everlasting peace and serenity.” Your words intertwined with Susie in perfect sync of the motto coined after the first crossover, “I suppose the Serenity will begin planning?”

“Have the Serenity ever not performed their duty?” Rudy raised one dark eyebrow with a rhetorical question. E/c and faded brown met recalling the countless times Elysium had hosted a celebration for those who found their unfinished business.

“That is-whoa.” You gasped stumbling at the scream echoing in your mind accessorized with the vintage sound of a band.

Calloused hands grasped your shaking form from collapsing onto the ground from a proverbial psionic shove. Agony slammed your brain flickering into an old fashioned club filled with people in both colour or black and white attire. You caught sight of baby pink, deep royal blue and bright red suits. The pained screams of a skater in a dark room overtaking the music in the Club.

“No.” You whispered clenching your hands on your head, feeling the dread building in the pit of your stomach.

The joyful voices in the hall muted while your body flickered with the deep instinct to leave the haven for the one place that utterly terrified you. It was the familiar touch of Susie and Rudy that kept you from finding the one person that meant the world. Willie’s soul was on the cutting board, and Caleb obsession with performing was the only reason Willie still existed.

“Willie.” You whimpered tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, feeling the panic in the skater’s mind.

“Susie help me.” Rudy stonily spoke ushering the distraught girl from the busy hall into an empty room.

Your shaking body finding purchase on the plush sofa with Susie holding one hand in hers and Rudy brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. It wasn’t often your psionic abilities left you in such a state, but the distance proved difficult.

“Shit.” Rudy grumbled frowning, “This is bad. Y/N, we need to get you to Willie. You’re flickering, and the distance isn’t helping.”

“You want to take one of Elysium’s strongest ghosts straight into Caleb’s domain? You know how much he wants her in his Club.” Susie hissed to the co-founder of the haven they had to take extraordinary measures to protect, “It won’t work! You’re throwing her to the dogs!”

“Susanne I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary. Besides, we always have a plan.” Rudy retorted narrowing his whiskey eyes at the younger girl, “I’ll take her to get Willie, but you need to stay here to make sure everything runs smooth.”

“Are you sure you can-“Susie cut herself off with a nod as Rudy displayed the reason he could do it, “Okay, yep, you can do it.”

Rudy came back into her vision in his signature position with one eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed. The reason why Elysium worked so well was Rudy’s ability to erase an object from the view of anyone. He could make himself invisible to anyone and in practice, developed it to hide items and location. With his ability, Elysium was permanently hidden to anyone outside of his power. Illusions were his unique ability.

“You aren’t the first person to doubt my capability.” Rudy informed the other ghost reaching one hand out. With his fingers caressing your temple, he snapped his fingers, transporting you and him away from Elysium.

The empty room of Elysium’s dining hall was exchanged for the business streets of Los Angeles, bringing an improvement in your body. Pushing away from Rudy, your eyes frantically scoured the unfamiliar area for any hint of Willie.

“He’s close.” You exclaimed closing your e/c eyes to focus solely on your sixth sense kicking in. Rudy’s gasp snapped your eyes open to see his eyes pinned on your feet where a glowing neon purple smoke wisped.

“What is that?” Rudy demanded crouching to touch it, but it was like nothing was there. His whiskey brown eyes meeting your confused gaze.

“I have no clue, but I feel like I have to follow it.” Robotically your feet started walking following the smoke through the streets.

Rudy was silent as you came upon a park swallowed by the darkness of the night with the moon barely showing through the clouds. The odd purple smoke the only offering of light so far from the path with street lights.

“Of course we have to go through a park.” Rudy grumbled, “Nothing good ever happens in wooded areas at night.”

Lifting your eyes from the smoke, you looked at a deeply unsettled Rudy lost in the past only he knew. His mind recalling traipsing through the forest with his asthmatic best friend in the middle of the night. The last night before the unknown took over his life. Oddly enough dying and returning as a ghost was the most normal with everything that happened with his friends alive.

“You can go ba-“

“We’re not splitting up,” Rudy growled plainly scowling at your hesitant features. Rudy’s slammed the door closed on his past life.

Sensing unease Rudy’s calloused hand reached over to slide into yours in platonic support. You continued your mission, unaware that three certain ghosts in breathtaking suits were searching for you. 

Alex, Reggie, and Luke, affected by the purple jolts, failed to find the one place where their plan B could work. What Julie hadn’t known was that the guys had a plan just in case the Orpheum wasn’t their unfinished business. The three would go to Elysium to accept their fate and ensure Julie believed they crossed over.

With no Elysium in sight, the boys returned to the Molina garage hoping that one thing would go their way: Julie would go straight to bed.

The glow purple smoke trailed through the city park into an older part of Los Angeles before it stopped. Where the smoke stopped was a vast empty space surrounded by trees.

“Well, that’s a little anticlimactic.” You grumbled crossing your arms, “Willie’s somewhere here. Do you think Caleb has an underground lair?”

Rudy cast an unamused expression at you, “From past experience. No, that’s not likely. He probably has an apartment downtown. An underground network of caves in the woods is more shapeshifter style but still not true.”

“One: You’re rambling. Two: What the hell kind of life did you have?” You questioned furrowing your eyebrows at his rather odd piece of information.

“An old one.” Rudy spoke, staring ahead, “Besides, I think we should check out whatever building is hidden from our sight.”

“Hid-“Your mouth halted when Rudy roughly gripped your shoulders to twist you to face the empty space.

“Close your eyes. Trust your senses.” Rudy spoke softly, “Or pay attention to the slab of concrete in the middle of an empty space with well-kempt grass.”

Your palm slammed your forehead with a resounding thump in the night with distance lights from surrounding buildings. Rudy squeezed your shoulders as he stepped to the side once more in turn, closing his eyes.

“Walk in my mind.” Rudy stated for the first time in your friendship, allowing you to look in his mind. Your hesitance was met with another squeeze of comfort in his calloused grip.

Your tired eyes closed as your mind timidly stepped into the rather breathtaking mind of Rudy, who felt guilt the most. While Susie’s mind was like a summer day spent at a lake with brightness and gorgeous field of flowers, Rudy’s mind was different.

It was dark in Rudy’s mind but not as if evil, but as if he had been touched by the darkness and painted permanently. There’s was the odd whisper of childlike laughter intermingled with the full adult laugh of a woman; the laughter overshadowed with the sound of funeral music. You felt the lose near that memory. Rudy’s mind was painful to be in and drowning in the feelings he had.

Your breath caught seeing a door you assumed was of his childhood room with a name you couldn’t pronounce for the life of you.

“My parents named me after my mom’s dad.” Rudy spoke through his mind with a soft smile on his face, “I couldn’t say it, so I called myself Mischief. I stopped using it when my mom died, and I went by a shortened version of my last name.”

Your eyes watched as the door disappeared, and the reason you were in his mind came back to the forefront. Your eyes watched the image forming of a vintage hotel rippling in the air before it solidified. The size reminded you of a castle, and it felt like you were storming it.

Without any more mental interaction, you stepped out of Rudy’s mind back into the real world. The very same hotel in plain sight to both Rudy and your surprised elation.

 “Honestly didn’t think that would work.” Rudy breathlessly laughed, staring at the hotel once hidden to them. A dark comparison to Elysium.

“How do we play this, Rudy?” You inquired looking over at him, “This is very different from stealing cars and scaring teens.”

“Easy. We blend in.” Rudy responded, holding one hand out to grasp yours in which you noticed your attire had changed, “Perks of illusion? I can alter our own perception of ourselves.”

“Oh, wow. That looks expensive.” You replied, staring at the diamond bracelet on your wrist matching the necklace you wore.

Rudy’s attire had changed from his normal button-up with the sleeves rolled to be layered under a charcoal grey vest and jacket. Sleek matching pants to his coat and the dark black-tie matching the elegant black dress you wore. He had taken pity on your footwear to fit your ability to walk and for the fancy place.

He even had diamond cufflinks that matched you, but the wedding rings on your fingers took you aback. Your widened eyes staring at him.

“Tonight we’re Mr and Mrs Martin,” Rudy spoke choking on the last name he gave as it was the upscale name toppled from his lips.

“Okay. This is a test of our abilities.”

“This is if our plan A of being invisible doesn’t work. The one thing we know for sure is that Caleb has never seen either one of us.” Rudy soothed your nerves with a half-smile,” Let’s get Willie out.”

Your arm slipped into the crook of his to walk to the front door, “I feel like a spy. I feel like that Naomi Roma-“

“It’s Natasha Romanoff. Have you ever seen one of the marvel movies?” Rudy demanded walking up the entrance with a pained smile, “You’re like my best friend and when he wouldn’t watch Star Wars! Never caught one of my references!”

“Okay! Sorry, we can watch the movies when this over.” You grumbled as your heels clicked in the foyer of the hotel. The inside made you feel like you were sent back in time to the roaring ’20s.

“Oh damn, this is nice,” Rudy whispered, staring at the chandelier in the extravagant lobby of the last place you wanted to be.

While on the outside the two ghosts appeared cool, calm and collected they were anything but. Both a wreck inside from the perilous errand they had done that could very well be the ending of Elysium. Rudy nudged you to begin finding Willie with your mind, but you didn’t need to.

That same glowing mist was on the ground pulling you in the direction of a dark hall away from the route to the Club. Rudy kept his eye out, a characteristic carried into the afterlife from his time with the FBI, as you followed the mist. The hall continued to get more and more dark as the walk continued.

 Finally at the end was a blood-red door.

 “I swear to god if he kills his Club members, I’ll lose it.” You hissed to your arm candy, “What if he’s really H. H. Holmes disguised as a former magician? His door is blood red!”

“Have you been using your serial killer colouring book again?” Rudy demanded stuttering his steps to place his whiskey brown eyes on you. The sheepish expression on your face was enough of a response to gain the look of disbelief could have sent you into hysterics had the time not been too serious.

With a grin belying the situation, you twisted your wrist to open the door to hopefully where Willie was being held.

“What a cliché. He’s keeping Willie in the basement?”

“Will you shut up!” Rudy hissed right back with a clenched jaw entering the somewhat unfinished basement. It was cold even to your dead standards where the cold didn’t bother that much.

At the bottom in front of a desk with only a small lamp as illumination sat a vacant-eyed Willie painstakingly detailing a fabric. The lush purple velvet fabric was bougie, to say the least, and rather outlandish for the skater.

“Willie.” You softly coaxed the teen to glance up from the fabric you found to be something Caleb would wear. Willie’s brown eyes barely met yours before they returned to the sewing needle in his hand and the tiny beads in the bowl.

“Caleb is actually forcing him to be his personal seamstress?” Rudy scoffed,d stepping right up by your side to look at the work.

Both trying unsuccessfully to coaxed Willie out of the stupor he was engaged in the sudden poofing wasn’t heard.

“Mrs. Young taught both Willie and Kayla how to sew. She’s quite the seamstress, reminds me of my old one.” Caleb wistfully responded with a smarmy smile on his face, “Well if it isn’t little Y/N and whoever she brought. Nice threads.”

“Let him go.”

Caleb’s index finger caressed the corner of his mouth so gently to ensure the stage makeup didn’t budge. His clear ocean blue eyes turning thunderstorm navy as his lips parted in such a bone-chilling sinister grin.

“Let him go? He tried to take my new house band from me. He thinks that those boys not crossing over is his punishment. I think that adorable but so very wrong.” Caleb shrugged, dragging his finger down the bicep of his puppet.

“What can we do to- “

“You see after he’s done fixing the tuxedo jacket I’m going to tie him up on the table and slowly strip away his soul piece by piece. No, Willie won’t get the quick and easy zap erasing him. I’ll personally see it’s the most painful thing he experiences and I’ll do so happily.”

“Willie! Wake up!” Rudy shouted, shaking the skater’s shoulder frantically with his focus never entirely leaving the mad man. The whiskey brown eyes panicking at the odd displaced feeling of reliving his living life.

“That won’t work.” Caleb chuckled crossing his arms, “It’s rather amusing you think you can beat me. I’m Caleb Covington! I’m persuasive enough for hundred of memberships to financially benefit the Club.”

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N bitch.” You snarled viciously throwing your mind into the nefarious narcissistic mind of the washed-up magician. 

Caleb Convington had started to bore his audience with the same tricks at every previous show. The lack of interest depleting the attendance numbers and severely hurting the financials. So Caleb decided to broaden his talent by copying the likes of Harry Houdini.

He had a knack for both the dramatics and swindling his audience to be tricked by the illusions he created. The heightened popularity increased Caleb’s thirst for status and fame, so he overestimated himself.

Surrounded by adoring fans and journalists, Caleb had his assistant lock him in a safe with no key, to the audience’s knowledge, and push the safe into the river. Unfortunately from the infamous magician and escape artist the safe warped due to the material it as made out of. Caleb Covington died drowning in a safe at the bottom of the river.

You flinched feeling the emotion at the time Caleb had died and the feeling of disappointment at not leaving a legacy. Your continued your trek in the struggling mind of a man who viewed himself as invincible. You caught glimpses of a young Caleb with his family and the moments of tragedy that shaped him.

You saw his first taste of power in death and the content since the first time he erased a ghost from existence. It sickened you more as you reached the point where Willie came into Caleb’s path.

I’m unique, Caleb. Unlike you with the illusions and empty promises, I have real power that you could only dream of. Hearing your thoughts and planting my own words is just the tip of the iceberg.

Caleb screamed in response holding his aching head as you cruelly ripped every memory of Willie from his mind. The screams echoed not only in the basement but through the hotel the Club worked out of.

“Stop!” Caleb pleaded, shaking his head back and forth. The anguish was un-fazing to both the lucid people in the room. Rudy too busy trying to wake your best friend from the trance he had been placed in.

“I can alter memories. Remove them and even plant memories of my own design. You may take from people, but I give to people. I refused to give you anything.” You circled the man seeing double from outside and inside his mind.

I’m everything you wish you could be.

Your last action in his mind was searing a burn that flashed across his entire body from a nerve stroked. With the heat equivalent to magma in his veins, you burrowed to where Caleb controlled the souls. With a smear of your fingers, Willie’s soul was released from Caleb clutches.

“C’mon. Get Willie.” You told Rudy sending Caleb into an empty trance as if he was no more than a wax figure. Rudy eased the skater up from the desk while you exchanged Caleb to sit on the chair holding the needle, “We need to leave. I’ll get rid of any speck of Willie in memories.”

“I didn’t even get to punch the guy.” Rudy pouted, dragging his feet up the stairs away from the magician.

“That’s a good thing. I’m sure Caleb would be more pissed about his nose being damaged than losing Willie.” You scoffed helping the man urge Willie to walk up the stairs and then down the hallway to the entrance.

As you walked you brushed the minds of every individual in the building, all members in attendance, you gently removed all traces of Willie. By the time you reached the edge of the park, you had relaxed.

“We should get him to Alex, they didn’t crossover. I can still feel their imprint.”

“He’d be safer at Elysium to lay low.” Rudy replied, keeping on eye on the skater and on anyone he could see.

With only a nod, you ushered the ghost to teleport both the skater and himself back to the safe walls of Elysium. As he did so, you reached out with your mind to the blonde-haired sweet male in adoration with your best friend.

Clicking his place was easy enough for your draining power after the taxing bond with Willie’s absent presence. Instead of walking as you would generally choose you poofed on the cement pad in the backyard of a home. The surrounding skirt of the backyard encased with plants and flowers.

“Hello?” You called out in the darkness. The soft, mumbled words had your feet moving in the direction.

Standing in a circle mesmerized at the purple tattoos lifting off their skin was the boys of Julie and the Phantoms. The teenage beautiful Puerto Rican girl stood across from Luke with Reggie and Alex on each side.

“Alex?” You called out to the boy wearing a baby pink vintage tuxedo that complimented his skin and hair exquisitely. The outfit definitely screamed that Caleb had something to do with it, especially with the missing fanny pack.

“Y/N?” Luke gasped turning to see you in incredibly fancy attire matching his gorgeous blue suit modified to having no sleeves. The anticipation of eating at you to find Reggie rocking a red suit with butterflies on the fabric.

“I’m sorry you didn’t crossover.” Your words soothed the sad teenagers that had accepted their fate only to have no control again. An introduction was brought between you and Julie when the living girl elbowed Alex.

“Not that we mind but what are you doing here? How did you get here, and why are you dressed up?” Luke inquired, pushing his hands into his suit pockets, engrossed with your gorgeous appearance.

“Well when you crash a fancy Club with a narcissistic founder…any means to blend in is necessary.” You responded, “As for your second question.”

Your finger tapped your temple before continuing to speak, “I’m here because Alex deserves to know. You all do.”

The boy in baby pink frantically stepped forward, “What happened?”

“Maybe it’s best, I just show you?” Your brows furrowed to your own question accompanied by your lower lip being bitten by your teeth. The red lipstick not budging as it was an illusion as well.

“Hu-“Reggie grunted as he spiralled with his two dead bandmates into the scene that had sent you on your determined mission.

The rough action of being drawn into your memories as jarring as the first time and just as scary. The maniacal magician pacing the dark basement simply to heighten his dramatic speech. Alex’s heart clenched at the vacant look in the skater’s eyes with the faintest tinge of purple in the gorgeous brown.

“I feel like I got carsick.” Reggie moaned leaning over to clutch his midsection once you released the ghostly trio. Reggie would often gain a look of disbelief and horror from the blonde drummer, but his entire brain was centred on Willie.

“Rudy took Willie back to Elysium where he’ll be safe. If you want, you can join us.” The words were offered to both the dead and living currently in the room.

Opting out, Julie retired to her bedroom to calm down from the rush of performing at the Orpheum of all places. Besides she felt like going to Elysium was best for the three boys, and maybe they would move there. Julie would miss them, but she knew they’d always come back.

Susie was quick to hug you tightly as you stepped through the gates with the dead members of Julie’s band. The boys changed out of the tuxedos they had dropped off at a donation centre, Reggie had wanted to burn them. After living on the streets for a short while, Luke understood the need for clothing, so the clothing was taken to shelters.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Rudy told me you overexerted yourself again.” Susie spoke with a deeply furrowed brow oblivious to the puppy dog look from the bassist in red flannel.

“If I didn’t, Willie would be gone.”

“You’re pale yet flushed cheeks. I can see you have a fever. You need to rest.”

“I need to soothe Willie out of the trance that psychotic prick put him in.” You scoffed shaking Susie’s hand off your shoulder to sidestep her, “I’ll rest when he’s fine.”

“I-“

“At least gab something from the cafeteria for energy.” Susie’s brown eyes dimmed at your typical brush off. The same routine of overusing your powers and not recharging correctly, “He’s in Cottage A!”

The boys were on your heels as you power-walked through the streets of the ghost city with one location in mind. The living streets with homes of all style and colours appeared passed the bakery, the school and the clothing stores.

“You can eat?” Reggie whispered as a little ghost girl licked an ice cream cone walked by.

“Harvey adored cooking for people when he living, so he continued in death. Harvey can make food for ghosts, and so can his staff if they work in his kitchen. His pastry chef provides baked goods to Flora’s Bakery and makes the best ice cream.”

 “Oh my god.” Reggie practically squealed wholly flabbergasted by the almost perfect place you created, “How do you pay for things?”

“We don’t. What Harvey doesn’t grow in his garden, he can make ingredients out of thin air. We all have some kind of job we do. Everyone has a role in fulfilling to keep Elysium running.” You simply spoke keeping your eyes on the cottage with the robin’s egg blue door.

As if he knew Rudy flung the door open elated to see you standing there. Both of you still wearing the illusioned attire. IN milliseconds he wiped the illusion away, returning you back into your street clothes.

“How is he?”

“No change.” Rudy replied, following your steps in the living room. The skater was staring blankly at the wall.

“Willie!” Alex cried, rushing over to kneel beside the boy that had so swiftly stolen his heart without him realizing. The emotion in his word didn’t get a microscopic flinch from the formerly so-called enemy.

“Everyone be quiet.” You demanded forcibly staring each person in the room down for a mere second. With the desired silence continued, you ignored the headache forming in your head to step into the skater’s mind.

William Young was screaming to be released by the prison of his own mind Caleb had forced him into. He had felt the restriction on his soul lifted and the mist of purple leaving his brain, but he was still stuck.

He could barely breathe with the weight on his chest. Willie didn’t like feeling stuck in one place as he was a wanderer at heart. It was a reason why he had joined the Hollywood Ghost Club with the promise of travel.

Willie come back

In his mind, the sound of your voice firstly grounded the young man as a mirage of your form flickered. Your eyes screamed worry while the smile was one of relief.

Caleb can’t hurt you anymore. Come home.

The spectators watching see your flinching wavering expression and the tensing of Willie’s facial muscles. Everyone sat on the edge of their seat as the two pairs eyes opened in synch of the yells of hurt.

What they didn’t expect was your eyes to roll into the back of your skull and you to collapse onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Willie cried, stumbling off the couch onto the cold floor where your body lay prone, “Wake up!”

It seemed everyone forgot the little detail of being dead.

 “She’s fine.” Rudy remarked, shaking your arm with such gentle care matching the four guys’ care in the room.

Your eyelids fluttered open under the bright lights of the unused cottage still waiting for an owner.

“Susie was right.” You grumbled allowing Willie to help you sit up against the blue velvet couch. Your mussed hair adorable in the eyes of the guitarist utterly enamoured with everything about you.

“She usually is.” Rudy mused, thinking of the many times she had proven everyone wrong, “She punched me for not bringing you home.”

“Gotta love her.” You snorted turning to face the four ghosts awkwardly gazing around the room. It was barren of personality with the lack of inhabitants. The yearning quickly found in the boys’ eyes, “You know this isn’t the only cottage in need of people.”

“What do-“

“You’re welcome to live here. I know you three live in that studio, but here you can have a real bed. You can eat and having your own place. You can come and go as you please.” You offered without looking, Rudy.

“I don’-“

“If you don’t want to live here, it’s okay, but the option is always there. Willie, we make plans for a skatepark-“

“Oh, you had me from the start.” Willie beamed tugging you into his arms, “I missed this. I missed you.”

 “Me too.” You murmured into his warm embrace equally relaxed at knowing he was safe again. Your eyes clashing with the soft blue had Ideas songwriting already filled with lyrics of a pretty girl wearing a jean jacket with patches.

The lyrics turned into songs both in the studio and the cottage that Luke, Reggie and Alex accepted in Elysium. It had been a spirited discussion with Julie on moving to Elysium, but the boys were always there when she wasn’t in school. Often Elysium hosted a concert for the residents with the visitation of Julie.

Your reciprocated attraction with the messy-haired hazel-eyed guitarist flourished into a serious relationship. Luke took on the role of teaching how to play the guitar and songwriting. Alex took of mediation while Reggie worked with Harvey.

Willie quickly took on designing the skatepark he taught at while also taking a position at the ghost school.

“Morning.” The soft whisper roused your sleep into the golden glow of the morning light and chirping birds.

The growling aspect of his voice coming from only just waking up. The sight of Luke’s bleary eyes was heartwarming.

 A year into moving into Elysium, Luke had asked if you’d like to move in as he was the only one in the original house. Alex had moved into the little cottage with Willie three months into the relationship while Reggie was going back and forth between Susie’s room and his own place.

“Morning.” You hummed leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

“You know I thought my life ended when I died. That I could never find someone and have a family. That I couldn’t share my music with the world. I was wrong.” Luke murmured as he cupped your cheek in his hand, “The band is growing more and more each day. I found the love of my life, and we have a family with everyone. I haven’t felt like I had had home for so long, but I get it now. You’re my home. I love you.”

Your cheeks warmed up at the adoration Luke displayed in his expressive hazel green gaze just as it had since day one. The awe fell from his lips before you pressed a kiss to his lips, only one of the many in the eons to come.

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[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Goodnight, Aaron (Aaron Hotchner x OC) Chapter 2

Summary: Two hours into the trial day, Sebastian gets an extension on his time with Jack. 

AN: No Hotch this chapter, but we finally get to spend some time with Sebastian! I might alternate between Hotch and Sebastian's perspectives a few times. Oh, the wonders of third person!

Tagging: @sunlight-moonrise, @clean-bands-dirty-stories, @genevievedarcygranger, and @davidrossi-ismydad 

Chapter 1 // Masterlist // AO3 Link // Chapter 3

Of course, this had to happen on the first day when Sebastian hadn’t even thought about moving into their spare room. Hotch had been called away from the office – Arizona to be specific – and he was not hopeful about returning home by the end of the day.

“We’re gonna have to go back to my house, get some stuff so I can stay tonight,” Sebastian explained as they passed the doorman on the way to the garage. All three exchanged a friendly wave.

Into Sebastian’s blue budget hatchback Jack’s booster cushion was swung. Jack climbed up into it with relative ease, though there was that tell-tale slip on the way up that came from being distracted by the sight of many CDs in paper sleeves stacked in the open compartment. The one he chose to look at, while Sebastian was busy buckling him in then getting around to the driver’s seat, had blue ink writing out the track list. He thought he recognised a few of them.

Sebastian switched on the car engine, groaning loudly as the air conditioning smacked hot air into their faces. He flapped his hand in front of him in an effortless attempt to cool down. Then he switched the air con off altogether.

“What tunes do you like, Jack?”

“Me and Daddy like the Beatles.” He handed over his chosen CD over, one that did not mention the Beatles.

Sebastian hummed, restraining his comment about “white men on guitar” as he put on some sapphic folk, “How’s this instead?”

Throughout the playlist over to Sebastian’s bedsit, Jack bounced his legs. He seemed a little surprised, almost a bit offended, when Sebastian started singing along. He was also not very enthused about dancing beyond his leg jiving. Sebastian didn’t push for him to join in, only going as far to turn down the music a little bit so that his energy would match it.

The building that held Sebastian’s residence was far from grand. If anything, it sucked the souls of those who looked at it. The garage was mostly empty. Its concrete colour palette crumbled at the edges and Jack looked wary as Sebastian led him up the dingy stairwell – the lift was broken.

On the third floor Sebastian twisted the key then tugged his front door towards him. After a few seconds, the lock unstuck itself from the door and he was able to push into the room – letting Jack go first.

There was still a whiff of his favourite mango passion fruit candle in the air. First order of business therefore was opening the window, hoping that his landlord wouldn’t pop round for a visit and kick him out early for breach of contract. Once Jack was exploring the space, Sebastian beelined for his wardrobe, pulling his case from the top shelf.

“Your home is small,” Jack announced to the sitting room, still taking in the kitchenette.

“Yes it is,” Sebastian held up some shirts to his chest before turning to his charge, “What do we think?”

Jack approached them, his tiny hands touching the hem of the shirt with lush green ferns patterned over it, “I like this one.”

“Me too,” and Sebastian tossed it onto the top of the case, his purple shirt replaced on the rail, “That’s why I bought it. Best bit about being an adult, Jack, you can do what you like with your money.”

Jack nodded solemnly at his advice before leaping over onto his couch, dislodging a cushion and tangling himself in the throw.

“Hey Jack, you ever played ‘Crash Bandicoot’?”

It didn’t even matter what Jack’s reply was; Sebastian was already over and switching on his PlayStation. Best tactic as a nanny: kids were always distracted by screens.

Jack was happy to sit in Sebastian’s lap and hold his hands underneath Sebastian’s, much larger than his own. They taught him the jump, the spin mechanics, and directions to take across the menu before Sebastian selected one of the first levels.

“Thems the mangoes,” He said quietly, much to Jack’s delight, as they cracked open a crate of the juicy fruits.

“What’s the point?”

“The point? You gotta reach the end of each level. Reckon you can tackle this bit on your own while I pack up?”

A little nod was his answer. Sebastian untangled his legs from underneath Jack and left him on the couch.

Scouring his necessities, Sebastian would be lying to himself if he wasn’t half tempted to pack up his PlayStation. His reluctant conclusion was that he could survive a day without his console had crossed his mind. Maybe when his trial “day” was over and if he got the job.

“You mind if I take a photo to send to your dad?” Sebastian sat upon his suitcase in an effort to crush his wash bag into submission. Jack did not reply. “Jack? Jackaroo?”

“Hmm?” Jack looked away from the game

“Can I take your picture for your Dad please?”

“OK.”

Snapping a quick photo, Sebastian sent Jack a thumb’s up, “Thank you. Now back to your gaming, sir, the bandicoot is getting cold.”

Sure enough, Crash was shivering in the rain that was pouring over the level.

It was a little past lunchtime by the time the pair finished the Crash Bandicoot level and sung through their second drive-time karaoke – Jack a little more accepting of it this time. As a result, Sebastian didn’t spend long prepping the spare room. He just tossed his bag in and shut the door. His future self could deal with it.

Making the classic lunch that Jack enjoyed became one of the day’s many activities, Jack offering a tour of where all the food was kept whilst wielding a butter knife that had been dunked in a mug of boiling water. It had a bit of melted butter dribbling down onto his hands. A drop of it splashed onto Sebastian’s shirt when Jack, a little vigorously, gestured to the top shelf in the fridge where the chocolate was kept.

The Lego modelling was unpacked again once lunch was all eaten and cleared up. But for once, Sebastian wasn’t as immersed in the craft as Jack.

“What do you think of my music?” Sebastian finally asked.

Jack shrugged.

“You don’t have to like it. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

Jack shrugged again.

“How about we find some songs you really like and you can show me some of yours?”

Sebastian picked one song then Jack picked one, and so on and so forth. Each song was given a verdict and either left as it was or plonked into a playlist for when they were next in the car. Or cooking. Or doing anything where they could also jam.

As each new song started, Jack stepped a little bit closer to how he was behaving yesterday. He was even swaying in time with the song when he asked if Sebastian could recreate what they’d done with the spacecraft before, and he found more energy reserves when Sebastian choose an upbeat song to zoom about space to.

“Again, again!” Jack cried when “Mahoney’s Debut” by Alexandre Desplat clunked into “Brothers in Arms” by Junkie XL.

“Sorry bud, this one’s six minutes long and I’ve not got the energy for one minute more.”

When Jack slid down Sebastian’s legs like a slide, Sebastian rolled over to his phone and turned the volume way down.

“I don’t like this one.”

“Well, I do, and I would like to hear this one just a lil’ bit longer.”

Pouting, Jack began adding a new room to his spacecraft. But it faded by the time that Sebastian played Jack’s favourite Beatles song as thanks while he made dinner. Time passed much faster now that they were both enjoying themselves again.

Jack made his own way getting ready for bed. His pyjamas were already out on his bed, and he’d brushed his teeth shortly after putting them on. Cuddled up on the couch, two pairs of slippers dangling off the edge, Jack took control of Sebastian’s avatar and ran about the server to explore what had already been built until it was bedtime.

Tucking Jack in, Sebastian said, “You all good?”

“Can you read to me please?”

“Sure thing. What book do you want to read?”

Jack grabbed the book from his nightstand, “We’re reading ‘Danny Champion of the World’!”

“You and your Daddy?”

The little guy nodded, wriggling deeper into his bed sheets with glee. Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek.

“Well, we don’t want your Daddy missing out on Danny’s adventures. How about we pick up something else?”

“I like Where The Wild Things Are.”

Sebastian knelt beside the bed, his arm resting against on the mattress so that Jack could see the illustrations. He could see, and sometimes hear, Jack’s lips moving along with the words. As he grew sleepier, Jack would miss a syllable every now and again.

When Jack’s eyes were drooping shut more often than they were staying open, Sebastian eased the book shut, “What do you prefer for a goodnight, Jack? Kiss, hug, high five, or a wave?”

“Wave please.”

So, Sebastian placed the book back onto the shelf and waved as requested, “I’ll be in the spare room if you need me. Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight,” yawned Jack, his eyes closing as Sebastian switched off his lamp. Low orange light radiated from the little nightlight in the corner, keeping watch over Jack once the bedroom door was closed.

The thrilling task of tidy up time was always the worst part of Sebastian’s day. It was last thing, it was boring, and he was more often than not shattered. But future Sebastian – now present Sebastian – had no appreciate past Sebastian just chucking his bag into the spare room. He certainly would not appreciate these tasks being left ‘til the morrow.

Headphones and comfy wear made things a little sweeter. But by the time Sebastian was tucking himself into bed, it was ten to eleven, and he didn’t even care to think about how the spare room was devoid of anything personal or how all his belongings were still packed in a tiny case or his rucksack.

That was future Sebastian’s problem.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Something different.

Most of you know I’ve been devoting all my free time over the past three years to writing original novels. Here’s the opening chapter of one of them. 

Sundays at the local skating rink are my secret pleasure. Most of the week, the ice is devoted to hockey practices and private lessons, but on Sunday afternoons, the rink is available for a three-hour public skating session, and it's always crowded. I like to buy myself a latte from the cafe across the street, climb into the stands, and camouflage myself amongst the crowd of parents dividing their attention between their children, making slow, laborious laps around the rink, and their phones. I don't doubt most of them are hoping their kids will tire themselves out, thus making the last few hours of the weekend quieter. The faces change from week to week, but the categories the skaters fall into are the same. The youngest glide along between the feet of a parent (who looks with envy at the adults relaxing in the stands), while their older counterparts grip the boards, moving forward inches at a time. There are rambunctious teenagers, chasing each other on unskilled feet, occasionally crashing into unsuspecting skaters. Couples hold hands as they totter along, gazing at one another, like they can't imagine anything more romantic than spending a few hours in uncomfortable rented skates, on a badly-groomed sheet of ice, surrounded by screaming kids slamming into their legs every few minutes. There's always, of course, the requisite show-off, the young figure skater in their first year of lessons, dreams of Olympic glory filling their heads, earning the slack-jawed admiration of every child present with scratch spins and sloppy jumps. Most of them will quit within a year or so, driven off by the increasing difficulty, by the endless (and painful) falls that come before mastering each new skill. One or two will persevere, at least until high school, when they'll be faced with the choice between adhering to the demanding practice schedule, or getting to have a social life. But they're not who I come to the rink to see. The precise skater I'm here for isn't immediately obvious. She typically begins her session on the ice clinging to the boards, like the other first-timers, but she won't stay there long. Before she's gotten halfway around the rink, she'll discover she doesn't need as much help balancing as she'd thought, and she'll tentatively release her hold on the boards. Instead of choppy, uncertain steps, she'll start to glide, managing to hold her balance on one foot long enough to push off with the other... and then for a bit longer... and longer... until she's moving faster and more smoothly than most of the skaters around her. Her face will light up with one realization- Hey, this is easy!- followed quickly by another- Hey, this is fun! Emboldened, she'll see how long she can balance on one foot, or she'll try skating backwards, or she'll possibly even manage a shaky two-footed spin and emerge from it as excited as if she's landed a triple axel. This skater will be disappointed to the point of tears when her time on the ice is over, in sharp contrast to the rest of the children, most of whom abandon the ice in exhaustion long before the session is up. She'll rush up to her parents, not stopping to remove her skates, and she'll beg them to please, please, please let her take lessons, because this is so much more fun than ballet or piano or softball or whatever other activities currently take up her afternoons. Within a year, she'll have graduated to being one of the Sunday afternoon show-offs, and not long after that, she'll most likely have quit... but that doesn't matter, because where the skater goes from here isn't what interests me. What I come here to see is that all-important moment, that instant when the little girl or boy falls in love with skating. I come here to see the beginning of an obsession, the realization dawning on a child's face that they could do this all day, every day, and never get bored. I think, sometimes, if I witness it often enough, I might start to remember the time when I felt that way myself. 

But inevitably, the public skating session ends, the rink empties, and I'm left to climb down from the stands, toss my empty coffee cup in the trash, trudge out to my car, and drive home, feeling more lost than I had when I'd arrived. Even though my father's farm is less than three miles outside of Kasson, Minnesota, I drive into town twice a week, at most- on Sundays, to visit the rink, and on Mondays for my weekly grocery run, which I make in the middle of the day when most people are in school or at work. These past three years, ever since the Sochi Olympics, I prefer to avoid conversation as much as possible... a difficult feat in a small town where everyone seems to know who Emma Lautner is, and how irredeemably I've humiliated myself. There's no sign of life at the farm. Dad's probably at his office in Rochester, trying to squeeze as much productivity out of the weekend as he can, juggling a caseload that would break most people. And even if he is home, he's probably out walking the fences, checking whether any are in need of repair. It's not like we can afford to pay someone to do that for us these days. We might not keep livestock anymore-- the last horse was sold when I was sixteen-- but Dad's a creature of habit through and through, and he likes to keep things in the best shape he can. I drive past the garage and the imposing seven-bedroom house-- noting that a few more shingles seem to be missing after the most recent storm-- and pull up alongside the one-bedroom guest cottage I call home. I park, cut the engine, and make my way along the path I shoveled for myself earlier this morning, when a February snowstorm finally blew itself out after three days. The cottage isn't locked; there's no need for security out here. I'm more likely to lock the door for privacy when I'm home than I am for safety when I'm out. Once the door is shut behind me, I sag against it, taking a deep breath, enjoying the warmth and solitude of my little home. Well... for about thirty seconds, that is, which is how long it takes for my cell phone to start ringing. I yank the phone out of my coat pocket, glance at the name, and groan. I silence the phone and stuff it back into my pocket, shrug off my coat, and hang it on the wall by the door. I slouch into the living room, where I flop down on the threadbare couch, closing my eyes. Five minutes later, someone pounds on the door, which, I remember with another groan, I haven't locked. It's thrown unceremoniously open, and my coach, Barbara Parker, a reed-thin former ballroom dancing champion, strides in on a gust of frigid February air. She slams the door behind her, and her brisk, determined footsteps announce her approach. "I need you out at the rink," she says, skipping right over her unanswered phone calls. "There's a surprise waiting for you." I roll onto my back and glare up at her. Barbara's "surprises" tend to be things like new, ridiculously hard exercises she's devised solely to torture me, and I'm not up for it today. "Barbara, I literally just walked in the door." "I know, I saw you from the house. That's why I called." I throw my arm over my eyes. "Look, if you didn't want me to know whether or not you're home whenever I need to talk to you, you shouldn't have invited me to move here." "I didn't invite you to move here," I point out, sitting up. "That was my father's idea." "And what an excellent idea it was." Barbara is infuriatingly unflappable as always. "Speaking of which, he asked me to tell you he had to drive up to Minneapolis for a couple days. He'll be back Wednesday." She nudges me with her knee. "Let's go, Emma. Time's wasting." Barbara isn't likely to leave me alone until she's revealed whatever the surprise is... so with a heavy sigh, I relent. I climb off the couch, shrug back into my coat, and follow her outside. About fifty yards from my cottage is a mammoth structure that once housed stables for the horses my father's family bred for generations... at least until, at the relentless urging of my mother, the entire operation was shut down, the horses were sold, and the stables were remodeled into a regulation-sized ice rink. The change did not endear Carolyn Lautner (already dubbed "that California bimbo" by my extended family, though they tried not to say it around me) to the Lautner clan. Even though my mom's been back in Los Angeles for three years, and even though I've been without a skating partner for most of that time, Dad's made no move to return the skating rink to its original use. And when it comes down to it, I'm just as much a creature of habit as my father, and I still come out here to train five days a week, partner or no. Inside, the rink has a slight air of neglect, though it remains serviceable. There's an ancient ice resurfacer, which I operate and which my dad's friend repairs when needed, parked at one end. Near the center of the rink's sidelines, where the judging panel would sit during a competition, is a raised plywood platform, where Barbara likes to perch and bark out instructions. I've got no idea what sort of "surprise" Barbara has planned, so I don't know what to expect as I follow her into the building and up to the edge of the ice... but whatever I'd expected, it hadn't involved a young man, whose face I can't make out at this distance, skating around on the ice I groomed myself this morning. I squint at him, trying to see if I recognize him from town, but he's at the far end of the rink and all I can tell is that he's tall, lean, and has dark hair. I turn to Barbara. "This is my surprise? Barbara, you shouldn't have." Across the ice, the skater catches sight of us and glides down the rink in our direction. He's graceful, at home on the ice, and watching the way he moves, I start to understand. "I thought you said you'd given up trying to find me a partner this close to the Olympics." "I did." "You said any senior male ice dancer would either already be paired up, or would have decided to wait until Beijing in 2022." "I thought I'd try branching out." Frowning, trying to puzzle out what Barbara means by that, I turn back to the ice. The young man skates to a graceful stop in front of us... and all the breath leaves my body. He's handsome, with large, green eyes in a narrow face, and his smile is cheerful, open, friendly. It's a smile, however, that I have no interest in ever seeing again in my life, no matter how gorgeous the face housing it might've grown to be. My chest grows tight, constricted, and I'm terrified I'm about to have my first panic attack in almost six months, right here, in front of both of them. "Emma," says Barbara, feigning total indifference to my sudden distress,  "I'd like you to meet your new partner, Adam Murrow." For a moment, I can't bring myself to say anything. All I can do is stand here, hoping desperately this isn't happening, that he's not here, not standing in my ice rink as though he belongs here, as though he hadn't- "What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, my breath returning in one furious rush. I want to punch Adam Murrow right on his narrow chin, to wipe the infuriating cheerfulness out of his bright green eyes. But I've got a good idea of how Barbara would react to that, so I content myself with clenching my fists, confining the punch I'd like to throw to my imagination. "He's here at my invitation." Barbara's tone is a warning. "I contacted him after New Year's and asked if he'd be interested in coming out for a trial period." "And you didn't bother to mention this to me?" Barbara shrugs. "I didn't see the need to tell you until I knew for sure he was coming. I told him to take a few weeks to think it over, and here he is." I open my mouth, intending to demand she explain how, knowing the history between me and Adam, she could possibly have thought it would be a good idea to bring my former partner out here. Barbara's face, though, tells me exactly how that would play out, so I whirl on Adam, instead. "You're a freestyle skater now. And not even a pairs skater. What, you found out getting onto the Olympic team as a solo skater wasn't as easy as you thought, so you decided maybe you'd come running back to ice dancing?" "Um... not exactly," says Adam. "I mean... yes, I have decided to try ice dancing again, but it's not because I didn't think I could get named to the men's team on my own." He looks down, shuffling his feet. "What, then? Did you lose a bet?" I ask scathingly. "Or maybe you couldn't hack it in the big leagues? Couldn't manage the quads?" Barbara shoots me a warning look. "Adam has made the decision to give up solo freestyle skating and come back to ice dance because of some minor knee issues." She gestures for him to exit the ice. He steps out onto the rubber flooring and stands before me, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a way that, years ago, would have told me he was nervous. "Nothing serious, not yet, but his doctor has told him if he wants to be able to get around without a wheelchair by the time he's forty, he needs to cut back on physical stress." "By which he meant, no more jumps. No more triples, and definitely no more quads," says Adam. "And since I'm not likely to qualify for anything at all, much less the Olympic team, with a program full of waltz jumps and single loops...." He shrugs. "There wasn't much point." "So, what, you thought you'd make the switch back?" "No, actually, I called him," says Barbara. I stare at her, aghast. "You contacted him and invited him to skate with me?" "I did," says Barbara, still completely calm, which infuriates me further. "And it never occurred to you to... I don't know, ask me what I thought about your brilliant idea first?" "It occurred to me, sure. But I knew you wouldn't go for it, so I decided to just do it. Adam very graciously flew all the way out here from New York on short notice, so I think you should at least give him a shot, don't you?" "Here's something else that probably should've occurred to you by the time he got here, since I've had enough time to think of it and I've only been clued into this insane idea for five minutes," I retort. "If his knees are too shot for jumping, what makes you think he'll be strong enough to do any lifts? Or are you going to suggest I be the one to lift him, instead?" "It's a completely different kind of stress on the body and you know it," says Barbara. "Lifting a one-hundred-thirty pound woman isn't exactly the same as putting six hundred pounds of pressure onto one knee for a quad jump." "And my knees aren't shot," interjects Adam. "They will be, sure, if I'm not careful, but she's right. Lifts aren't gonna be a problem, unless you've put on a hell of a lot of weight since I last saw you." He looks me up and down. "Which it doesn't look like you have." I glare at him as ferociously as I can. "You left this sport," I remind him. I want to remind him he left me, as well, but I bite that bit back. With difficulty. "I know I did." "And don't think I haven't seen the interviews you've given since then. For instance, the one where you said ice dancing is just freestyle skating with all the hard parts taken out?" "Jesus, Em." I bristle at his familiarity, the way he talks to me as though it hasn't been seven years since we've last spoken, as though he hadn't disappeared from my life and left a mess behind him. He doesn't notice. "I said that at least five years ago! I was being flip, going for an easy laugh!" "But you do think it's less difficult, don't you?" Adam rolls his eyes. "Of course not, Em." "Don't call me that." "Fine, Miss Lautner, then," he says. I keep glaring at him. "Your royal highness?" I actually take a threatening step towards him before Barbara puts a warning hand on my shoulder. "Emma. I don't think it's less difficult. I promise. It's not like I forgot everything about ice dancing the moment I switched to freestyle." You certainly forgot about me, I think, but I content myself with crossing my arms tightly and looking away. I can't stand looking at his stupidly handsome face for another second. "Adam, you can feel free to stay on the ice if you want," Barbara says. "Or if you'd rather go finish unpacking, that's fine, too. I'll have dinner on the table around six o'clock." Adam's eyebrows shoot up. "You're the coach and the cook?" "Yes, I'm the cook," says Barbara agreeably. "At least for tonight. Our budget doesn't exactly allow for a professional chef." She doesn't, thankfully, mention the other reason we take turns cooking and always eat dinner together: when she first got here, my relationship with food had been tempestuous, to say the least. "Tomorrow night, it's Emma's turn. And on Tuesday, it'll be your turn." Adam's cheerful expression falters. "I'm, uh... I'm not much of a cook." Remembering his difficulties with the simplest of recipes when we'd been younger, I can't help taking pleasure in his nervousness. "It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Barbara assures him. "It can be spaghetti with sauce from a jar, if that's all you know how to make. So once you've decided what you'll be cooking, check in the kitchen and see if we've got what you need, and if not, write it on the shopping list on the fridge." She takes my arm. "We'll see you at dinner. For now, I need to speak with Emma in private." And without waiting for a response from Adam, Barbara pulls me firmly away from the ice by the elbow. I glance over my shoulder before we leave the building. Adam's back out on the ice, gliding gracefully in slow circles, his arms held out, encircling an imaginary partner... and briefly, lost in memory, I can almost feel his hands on me, holding me firmly, but tenderly. Exactly the way his hands always had. Before. Back inside my cottage, I fall onto my couch without taking my coat off, leaning my head back, staring at the ceiling. "Why didn't you ask me what I thought before you contacted him?" I don't look at Barbara. "Because I had a pretty good idea of what your response would be." She lowers herself into my beat-up armchair. "So why go ahead with it, then? If you knew I'd be against it?" "Because, Emma, there are no viable options left at this point. There aren't many male ice dancers looking for partners only a year from the next Olympics, and any who are, well...." Her voice trails off, and the silence following her words is awkward. At the unspoken reproach in my coach's voice, a sudden stab of resentment makes me borderline nauseous. "What happened with Grant wasn't completely my fault." I lift my head, glaring at her. "Most of it wasn't your fault, kid. And as for how it ended...." She sighs. "The person who storms off the ice is always going to look like the one at fault to everyone watching. And if I'd been your coach when all of that got going, well...." She shrugs. "Let's just say, after a few days of coaching Grant, I would've known enough to advise against letting it begin in the first place." "I don't see how that's any different from blaming me for all of it, since what happened in Sochi never would've had the chance to happen if Grant and I hadn't--" "It's always a risk you take, getting involved with your partner. Even if the ending isn't as... volatile... as yours and Grant's, there's still the chance it will end. And an amicable breakup doesn't guarantee you'll still be able to skate together. If I'd been your coach, I would've told you that as soon as I suspected things were heading in that direction." "Instead of encouraging it, like Edgar did," I mumble, pulling my legs up to my chest and pressing my face into my knees. Barbara sets her mouth in a thin line, probably biting back the things she'd like to say about Edgar Fellig, her predecessor... but, as always, she holds her tongue. "No point living in the past" is one of Barbara's favorite personal affirmations. Except now, thanks to Barbara, my past will be living with me. "How do you know he won't bail the second something goes wrong?" I demand. "Last time, I'd been injured barely a week, and that was long enough for him to start auditioning new partners. Jesus, Barbara, he was skating with someone else the day after I left the hospital!" "You might want to remember you weren't completely innocent in what happened," Barbara cautions, and I bristle. "I can't think of anything I could have said that would justify abandoning your partner of eight years just because she got hurt." I'd like to say something much more cutting, but I can't risk driving Barbara away. Plus... it's not like she's completely wrong. "In any case," Barbara sighs, "you've got two choices. You can give Adam a chance, and have a shot at being ready in time for Nationals and getting selected for the Olympic team... or you can wait five more years for the Beijing games, and hope the gossip dies down enough by then for you to find someone else to skate with." "Wait for the gossip to die down? In this community?" I shake my head. "Fifteen years wouldn't be enough time for that, let alone five." "Then I guess you can either give my idea a try... or give up." I glare at her. "I am not giving up. If I never skate again, then Grant wins. Edgar wins. My mother wins." I shake my head. "Giving up isn't an option." I drop my feet heavily to the floor, leaning my elbows on my knees. Barbara's right: as much as I would've preferred never to set eyes on my former partner again, giving Adam a second chance is my only viable option. But being around him, day after day, spending hours on end together, in near-constant physical contact.... I promised myself, years ago, that if I ever got the chance to confront Adam over the way he'd walked away from me, I wouldn't do it. It would be an acknowledgement of how much his desertion had hurt me. Hurt me? Hell, it had destroyed me. But letting Grant win? That would destroy me even further. I look up at Barbara, resigned. "Fine. But I don't want him given any slack, okay? I'm sure he's got it in his head this is gonna be easy, and I have no interest in holding his hand and comforting him when he finds out how wrong he is." Barbara nods, satisfied. "Good." She stands. "I'll see you at the house for dinner, all right?" I wince. The idea of sitting across from- or worse, next to- Adam is the least appetizing thing I can think of. What the hell are we supposed to talk about? "I think I'll skip eating with everyone else tonight," I say, even though I know exactly how well that's going to go over. "Not an option and you know it." "I've got food in my fridge." "And you can eat it later, if you need a snack. But dinner is at the house at six, every night. That was one of my conditions when I agreed to be your coach, and I'm not letting up on it because you're in a bad mood." Sullenly, I nod, and Barbara, zipping her coat back up, lets herself out. I lean back and close my eyes. Somehow, even though I haven't done much today, I'm exhausted. The thought of going to my room, collapsing into bed, and napping until dinner is tempting, but if I do that, I'll probably end up lying awake for hours later tonight when it's actually time for bed. There's nothing to be gained by putting off the inevitable. I trudge outside and return to the rink. Adam's still on the ice, skating slowly, only now, instead of practicing partner holds on his own, he's frowning down at his feet as he moves. When he glances up, catching sight of me, he looks nervous, but he skates over all the same. "You don't look too sure of yourself out there," I tell him bluntly. "Moving pretty slowly. I thought you said your knees weren't that bad?" "They're not. I'm getting used to the different blades again, that's all." I follow his gaze down to the smaller toe pick and shorter blades of his ice dancing boots. "I've already fallen over backwards once. I keep expecting there to be more blade back there to catch me."   "That's not encouraging." For the first time, Adam looks irritated. His mouth turns down and his eyes narrow. It's an expression I remember well from our teenage years, though he rarely aimed it at me. "Look, I know you don't have any reason to be excited I'm here," he says. "I get it. I'm obviously not your first choice of partner, and I don't blame you, but I do think you have to get over yourself at some point. Especially if we're gonna be skating together." I'm so furious, I can't speak. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, trying to master my temper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's gotten to me. "I have to get over myself?"   "I'd say you do, yeah." "No, Adam, I don't think I do. What I need is a partner who actually wants to be here, not someone who sees this as a last resort if they can't get to the Olympics any other way. I need a partner who knows how much hard work is in front of him and isn't afraid to put in the time." "And what makes you think I see this as a last resort? What makes you think I'm not ready to work as hard as I need to? You think I spent all my time as a freestyle skater slacking off and joking around for TV reporters? I worked my ass off trying to get onto the men's team." "Why haven't you yet, then?" I'm verging on being truly unkind, but I don't care. "Why's this going to be your first Olympics? You were old enough to go to Sochi in 2014, so why didn't you qualify then?" Adam glares at me. "Why didn't you?" he retorts. For a second, I see red. How dare he? "You know damn well that I did go." "That's right, I do," says Adam coldly. "I know you qualified, I know you went to Sochi, I know why your short dance was a disaster, and I know why you didn't finish the competition. Everyone knows. So I'd appreciate it if you could knock it off with your holier-than-thou attitude. We don't have to like each other, but we do have to work together, and that's gonna be hard to do if you're spending every minute acting like I've somehow insulted you and everything you stand for by trying to have a skating career of my own." He turns away, skating back towards the center of the ice. "See you at dinner," he calls over his shoulder. I contemplate shouting some scathing retort at him. I debate storming out there after him and giving him a good, hard shove, knocking him on his ass on the ice. I think about maybe climbing on the Zamboni and running him over... but in the end, I do none of those things. I whirl on my heel, stalk out of the rink, and stand outside in the darkening Minnesota afternoon, allowing the frigid wind to cool my cheeks, reddened with fury... and with shame.

[coll2mitts]

Super Mario Bros. (1993)

Thanks to the awesome people who donated to Extra Life (you still can, btw!)  y'all will now be treated to a retrospective on the 1993 classic movie, Super Mario Bros.  When I took on this milestone, the first (and only) person I messaged for ideas on terrible (but wonderful) films based on video games was my friend Max, who has a history of viewing and talking about bad movies.  He suggested this, and while I was aware of this magnificent piece of cinema history, I had not had the pleasure of viewing it myself.  He hooked me up with a copy, and to say this film lived up to my expectations would be an understatement.

I couldn’t help but be charmed by this movie.  It is filled with so many questionable creative choices that were fucking ridiculous.  Mario and Luigi not being blood related?  Sure.  Cheesy Italian accents replaced with a New York ones?  Yeah, why not?  Having all the enemies in Super Mario Bros. be canonically dinosaurs?  I mean... It's a choice informed by the great media dino wave of 1993, but whatever.  Yoshi is a dinosaur, if we want to extend that to goombas and Koopa for whatever reason, I'm down.  Having these dinosaurs live underneath New York City in a parallel dimension?  It's based on a video game, why the fuck not?  Everything is so goddamn bonkers.

The opening credits roll, and we’re told that 65 million years ago, a meteor created said underground parallel universe dinosaur land.  We witness a human-looking woman, who is really a dinosaur, leaving an egg baby on a church doorstep.  Don’t think about it too hard, the logistics of a human giving birth to an egg that size are just... it’s gross to think about.

We’re then introduced to the titular characters, Mario Mario and Luigi Mario.  Yes, their last names are Mario.  Making them the Mario brothers.  Because this movie is interested in answering the important questions.  Mario is the owner of a failing plumbing business, while Luigi is a conspiracy theorist who would have really enjoyed modern-day YouTube.

While they’re out trying to find work, they run into Miss Amy March herself, Daisy, who is an archeologist in charge of digging up dinosaur bones from a New York City construction site.  She’s being forced off the property by the mob, who apparently are annoyed that a blonde lady in cargo shorts is coming between them and whatever the fuck they’re building.  

They try and intimidate her, she storms off to use a payphone to call for security, and is almost picked up by two inconspicuous bozos in a cab who apparently are stealing Brooklyn women off the street for no reason.  Their plan is quickly thwarted by a random moving pane of glass.

Instead, Daisy runs right into Luigi, who forgets how to human once he sees her pretty face.  He asks her on a date, where she reveals even more exposition.  She believes the meteor that destroyed the dinosaurs landed in New York City.  Oh, and also, she’s the abandoned egg baby.  Luigi is also an orphan, and this shared trauma apparently gets them both hot and bothered.  They wander off to the dig site, because an underground pit attached to a sewer is so romantic, and it is also where Daisy feels the most comfortable.

What if we made out at the bone pit?

Their touching moment is cut short when the mob sabotages the plumbing in the sewer and water starts flooding the area.  They run to get Mario, because he is a plumber, to fix the pipes, which is so fucking clutch, I love it so much.

While the Mario brothers are distracted, Daisy is captured by the weirdo twins and dragged into the alternate dinosaur universe.  Mario and Luigi follow, and we’re treated to the most fucking amazing transition scene of Bob Hoskins spinning wildly through colorful rocks.

Turns out, parallel dinosaur world, or Dinohattan, is fucking lit as hell.  I am convinced that Futurama based their sewer city on this movie.

King Koopa, who is a dinosaur with badly bleached hair gelled back in an effort to look like Michael Douglas in Wall Street, has taken over Dinohattan.  He is the one who asked the goons to kidnap Daisy, because of the tacky crystal necklace she wears.  Apparently, it is a piece of the meteorite that crashed into earth, and once he puts the piece back into the original space rock, the dinosaur world will merge with the mammal world after 65 million years of his people being sequestered underground, and Koopa will have endless resources at his disposal.  Also, Daisy is a princess, and her dad is a giant fungus taking over the city, so that’s totally normal and not at all weird.

Problem is, the two idiots he sent to grab her didn’t think to check if she was wearing the necklace.  Turns out, Luigi has the necklace, or had the necklace, as they are quickly mugged by a granny, who is then robbed by a lady with a bright red spiky latex coat and springy robot feet.  The brothers are then arrested by the dinocops and are grilled by Koopa for the whereabouts of the rock.  When they play dumb he uh... reacts in a proportionate way.

I am not even going to attempt to explain the devo process...  It is a combination of insane and fucking disgusting.  Whoever in the costuming department looked at the cute fucking mushroom Goombas in the video game and decided to translate them into this scaly, jagged-teethed nightmare fuel deserves to be committed.

Also, there’s only one lizard king, and that’s Jim Morrison, so back off, buddy.

What is hilarious to me is this is the story the screenwriters came up with.  Super Mario, as a video game, doesn’t have much lore, right?  You slide down pipes, you jump on mushrooms, and you save the princess from a spiky turtle.  They took that game and created... This.  A parallel underground dinosaur universe that has a sentient fungus as a king, taken over by a human-like t-rex that devolves other lizards into tiny-headed night paralysis demons.

The middle of this movie alternates between a slog of expositional scenes about Daisy being a princess, and pretty entertaining action scenes of the Mario brothers running from Goombas while trying to find and save Daisy.  Mario and Luigi steal a cop car and drive it off a cliff Thelma and Louise-style; They cosplay as Ketchup and Mustard to steal the necklace back from Big Burtha while asking her to stomp on them; They jump off a bridge into a garbage truck; They break the pipes in Koopa’s building to freeze everything, and get past an elevator full of Goombas by making them dance.

Watching Daisy damsel-in-distress-it in Koopa’s high rise office building and fend off advances by a long-tongued dude who devolved her father into a mushroom was pretty boring and disturbing.  Alternatively, witnessing Bob Hoskins and John Leguizamo pretend to jump on giant sheets of fungus really sold this movie for me.  It succeeds when it tries to be ridiculous and fun, and fall flat when it attempts to integrate any sort of drama that I’m assuming was added to make this story more appealing to adults.

Mario and Luigi eventually find Daisy, and she introduces them to her father - a giant dripping blob suspended from the ceiling.  Luigi wants in her pants badly enough that he pretends this is a reasonable thing to do.  Mario heads further into the building to free the other ladies kidnapped by tweedle dee and tweedle dum that they initially thought were Daisy, but weren’t.  The newly assembled group are able to escape by sliding down the frozen pipes on a mattress before they are green-screen launched out of the pipe and back into the greater Dinohattan area.

The amount of times Mario and Luigi use their plumbing skills to overcome obstacles may be my favorite part of this movie.  The plot goes out of its way to justify a really bizarre character trait for the original game.

Anyway, the end of this movie comes at you fast.  First, the sentient fungus king gives Mario and Luigi a bomb, and they decide to wind it up and aim it at Koopa.  This takes about 10 minutes of screen time to matter again.

Koopa’s second-in-command tries to merge Daisy’s stolen necklace with the meteor, and instead gets skeletoned to bits, prompting the best line delivery reaction from Daisy, a deadpan “Yikes”.

Because the necklace has now been returned to its resting place, the worlds start to merge Infinity War style.

“Mr. Koopa, I don’t feel so good.”

Koopa and Mario end up back in Manhattan, and Koopa just starts shooting his devo guns at human mobsters, turning them back into primates, and giving their wardrobe a whole new literal definition of monkey suit.

Luigi uses his super plumbing powers to drill the necklace back out of the meteor, separating the worlds again.  The bomb finally goes off, they devo Koopa into slime, and the citizens celebrate by immediately painting over his ever-prevalent propaganda.

The king evolves back into a mushroom person or something, and Daisy stays in Dinohattan to get to know her father better.  Mario and Luigi return to their lives in Brooklyn as plumbers, and their heroic acts make them conspiracy community famous, as they now refer to our heroes as the Super Mario Brothers.  Roll Credits.

Except not, because Daisy returns to ask for the help of a couple of great plumbers, setting up a sequel that will never, ever happen because there is no god and we’re not allowed to feel joy.

Honestly, Super Mario Bros. is great.  It owned every bold plot and visual choice it made, and I have to respect it.  I could listen to John Leguizamo say Mario like 700 more times.  Y’all are missing out if you think you’re too cool to watch this movie.

I’ll be back to musical reviews later this month.  I have a few seasonally appropriate movies in my big red sack waiting to be placed under the tree...  Yes, I meant to phrase it that way.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: I’ve Got The Power!

AU-gust Day Eight: Superheroes/Superpowers AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: None

Rated: G

Summary: Emma Swan has just discovered she has superpowers. Really useless superpowers. Luckily, there are several other individuals with… not very useful powers… who can help her out.

===

I’ve Got The Power!

Emma Swan had had superpowers for all of forty-eight hours before she decided that they were really not all they were cracked up to be.

It would have been all right if her superpower had been something cool like all the superheroes she saw on the TV. If she’d had superstrength or laser vision or the ability to fly, then Emma would quite happily have signed on to be part of the next generation of the Super League or the Brotherhood of Justice, or any of the other groups of costumed heroes who protected America’s cities from the threats that regular folks couldn’t handle.

As it was, Emma’s superpower wasn’t cool. It wasn’t even all that useful. In fact, it was just a downright pain in the backside. Emma Swan, in the most ironic and clichéd case of nominative determinism ever, had just discovered that she could turn into a swan. Not even a majestic-looking swan. More a gawky-looking cygnet that was only just coming into its adult plumage.

Well, that made sense, she was only eighteen and only just coming into her human adult plumage, so to speak. Maybe in a couple of years she’d look better.

In the meantime, what the hell was she supposed to do with this newfound power? And more importantly, how the hell was she supposed to control it?

One minute she was sitting in the back of her bug quite happily, eating chips. The next she was flapping about in the footwell with chips flying everywhere. These random transformations had been going on for the last two days without much chance of respite, and they were getting to be a severe hindrance to her lifestyle. She’d have driven off and moved along by now usually; she never liked to stay in one place too long, but she didn’t want to run the risk of transforming whilst behind the wheel. Swans lacked the opposable thumbs necessary to grip the steering wheel for a start, and there was no way that her webbed feet would be able to reach the pedals.

At least she was learning the warning signs now. So far, each transformation had been preceded by a numb, tingling sensation in her extremities, like pins and needles, and she sighed as she felt it again. She was never going to be able to finish this bag of chips at this rate.

Emma flapped her wings in frustration as the transformation completed, battering the windows with her strong feathers before letting out a scream of frustration that came out as a series of ear-splitting and extremely non-human sounds.

It was only once she was comparatively calm again that Emma realised that she was not alone. A man and a woman were standing a short way from the car looking alarmed. Had they seen her transform? She quickly ducked down out of sight – no mean feat when her neck was now several times longer than it used to be.

“Now, I don’t claim to know this part of town very well,” the man began, “but I really don’t think that there should be a swan in the back of that car.”

“David…” The woman’s voice was faltering, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “David, it’s not a swan.”

“A goose, then. Whatever it is, it does not belong in a car.”

“David, it’s a human.”

There was silence for a long time, and Emma chanced to peep up out of the window. The man and woman were looking at each other.

“Well,” David said eventually. “You would know.”

The woman looked over at the bug again and Emma quickly hid. When the woman spoke, there was a strange, echoey quality to her voice, as if she was talking directly into Emma’s head as well as the sound going in through her ears at the same time. Was she a telepath?

“You’re human, aren’t you?”

Emma had no idea what to say – or indeed think – in response. Were these people friend or foe? Had she just stumbled upon the town’s latest new supervillain duo, and the only thing she could do was flap her wings and screech a bit?

“Please say something, I can’t read your mind.”

Ha! That was exactly what an evil telepath would say to lull her into a false sense of security! Emma remained smugly silent, although she knew that wouldn’t exactly help if the woman was in fact an evil telepath.

It was then that she felt the all-too-familiar tingle in her fingers and toes – webbed feet and wingtips – and she groaned inwardly. Not again. Especially not now and especially not with an audience.

Too late. She was human again, falling off the back seat with a garbled shout of alarm. By the time she had picked herself up, David and his possibly telepathic companion had moved closer and were peering n through the window.

Emma waved awkwardly. “Hi.”

“Are you all right?” David asked. Emma nodded vigorously, wondering what the best and quickest way to get them to go away was. She could hardly pretend that nothing had happened now that they had seen her transform, but that didn’t stop her trying.

“Yep,” she said brightly. “Absolutely fine, nothing to see here, you definitely did not just witness a woman turn into a swan and back again.”

David and his friend looked at each other and back at Emma.

“Yeah, powers are hard to control when they first turn themselves on,” David said. “How long have you had yours?”

Emma sighed. She definitely wasn’t going to be able to get rid of them, and if there was something psychic going on with the woman then maybe they’d be sympathetic to her plight and leave her alone to wallow in misery of their own accord. She rolled down the window to talk to them properly.

“Two days,” she said. “It’s the most useless power ever. How am I supposed to save the world by turning into a swan?”

“You’re telling me.” The woman held out a hand and Emma shook it through the window gap. “I’m Mary Margaret. I talk to animals. Welcome to the Lame Superpowers club. Our motto is ‘I’ve got the power! Now what do I do with it?’”

Well, that explained why her voice had sounded so weird when Emma had been a swan. She was slightly mollified about the possibility of Mary Margaret reading her mind now. She turned to David.

“What about you?”

“Long jump,” he said.

“What?”

“I can jump a long way. As long as I have a decent run up. Good for dramatic jumping between rooftops, not much good for pretty much anything else.”

It was good to know that she was not the only person in the world with a stupid superpower.

“I wasn’t kidding about us having a club,” Mary Margaret added, looking around the bug that Emma was quite clearly living inside of. “If you need a place to crash for a bit, we hang out in the cabin by the lake.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that place haunted?”

“No, just full of people with weird powers. We like to keep the rumours going though. It means less chance of someone finding our hideout.”

Emma looked around the back of the bug. On the one hand, it would be nice to have a roof over her head for a bit. On the other hand, she had no idea whether she could trust David and Mary Margaret or not, and if she entered this supposedly haunted cabin, then she might not come out again. They seemed like genuinely nice people, but Emma was still sceptical.

“What do you do there?” she asked.

“Train our powers, mostly.” David shrugged. “Try to control them better and make them more useful. Mr Gold says that we must have been given these powers for a reason other than to annoy us. Sometimes I think he’s trying to turn us into the superhero team that we’re all convinced we can’t be.”

“Who’s Mr Gold?”

“He owns the cabin and is the founding member of the Lame Superpowers Club. Well, the official title is Unusual Superpowers. His son’s around your age, actually. I think you would get on.”

Emma considered the proposal for a moment. In the end, what did she have to lose? “All right.”

A few minutes later found Emma following Mary Margaret and David down a winding forest track towards the cabin. It was slow going towards the end, as Emma transformed again and could only waddle at a swan’s pace, and Mary Margaret got distracted trying to mediate a dispute between two squirrels who were arguing over acorn ownership – in strong Brooklyn accents, according to Mary Margaret.

Eventually, they made it inside.

“We’ve got a new member!” David announced to the cabin at large. The rest of the occupants looked at David and Mary Margaret and then at the swan standing beside them, and then back to David and Mary Margaret with concerned expressions.

“Erm, David? It’s a swan.”

“Oh, just give her a minute, she’ll change back. Everyone, this is Emma. Emma, this is everyone, starting with Ruby.”

“Werewolf,” Ruby said cheerfully. “I can turn into a wolf but only at night when there’s a full moon visible.”

“Leroy.”

“Insanely good at chopping things with a pickaxe and literally no other weapon.” Leroy gave a nod of welcome to Emma.

“Not great at chopping things with kitchen utensils either,” Mary Margaret added. “This is Bae.”

“I can open portals that might lead to anywhere and that I have no idea if I’ll be able to come back from if I go through one.” Bae waved. He looked to be in his late teens, and Emma surmised that he was the son of the mysterious Mr Gold.

“There’s also Bae’s dad but he doesn’t appear to be here at the moment,” Mary Margaret concluded. “Mr Gold, who, in another case of extreme nominative determinism, can spin straw into gold.”

Emma felt herself beginning to transform again, and she only just managed to grab David’s arm to keep her balance as she shot back up to her normal height and centre of gravity. To give them their due, the rest of the gathered group seemed completely unfazed by what they had just witnessed.

“Hi. I’m Emma. I’ve been randomly turning into a swan for two days.”

“Cool!” Bae waved her over. “I’ve only had my powers for a week too. They’re so annoying, aren’t they?”

Emma nodded, glad to have found a kindred spirit so quickly. Maybe being part of the Lame Superpowers Club wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[orangeoctopi7]

Return

All the excitement and time in the sun yesterday meant Ford slept soundly through the night. He had no visits from Bill, nor any dreams. The rising sun woke him as it shone through his window. 

Ford got up and dressed in a rush. He may have had a good time with Stan at the lake yesterday, but that didn't mean he wasn't annoyed with his brother for prohibiting study of that mysterious tooth. The researcher hoped it was still there this morning, but he also knew the supernatural had a tendency to disappear after its first sighting, even here in Gravity Falls. But even if it was gone, he needed to get back to that beach and check for any traces of weirdness.

However, waiting for him at the front door was Stan. Ford was shocked. Stan never got up this early! And yet here he was, already dressed and looking like he'd been up for a few hours.

"You were going to go check out that tooth without even having breakfast first, weren't you?" Stan asked with a raised eyebrow, blocking the front door.

"So what if I was?" Ford asked indignantly. "I'm an adult, I can skip breakfast if I so choose!"

Stan rolled his eyes and shoved a donut into his brother's hand. "Here, at least eat something on the way."

"Where did you even get this?"

"I stopped on the way back from running an errand this morning." Stan smiled smugly. "There's a pretty good bakery on main street. I know you haven't been there, because nobody said 'Hey, you're that mysterious loner scientist who lives out in the woods' while I was there."

Ford's face flushed as he scowled and pushed past his brother to the door. Stan followed him out, jangling his keys.

"You need a ride?"

"Or, you could give me your keys and let me drive myself."

"Not happening."

Ford grunted with frustration and squeezed between the wall and the passenger side of the car. "Why did you park so close!?"

"Because I'm not lettin' some tree monster get the Stanlymobile! Just wait in the driveway, I'll pull up to you."

Ford's irritation with his brother grew as they sped off to the lake. Stan's inexplicably smug attitude this morning didn't help.

Stan hadn't even put the car into park before Stanford was out of the door and dashing down the lakefront.

"H-hey, wait up a sec!" Stan called after him.

"Well then you should Keep up!" Ford shouted back, smiling at the irony. He stopped short when he rounded the hill and found the tooth. It was still there! And it was covered in webbing. The researcher's jaw dropped as he took a closer look. It looked just like the fibers produced by his web shooters.

"Stanley, did you--?"

"Hah, you should see the look on your face right now!" Stan chortled in reply. "That is so worth waking up at five in the morning for! Well, that and the twenty dollars you owe me."

"What? I wasn't being serious!"

"Hey, I warned you! I said you should know better than to bet against me."

Ford groaned, but he couldn't help but smile. He just couldn't stay mad when his brother had gone through the trouble to secure a paranormal specimen for him.

The researcher began sketching the tooth in his journal right away, as Stan began pulling off the strands of webbing so his brother could see the thing better. After the preliminary sketch was done, Ford brought out his instruments and began taking measurements. First of the tooth's dimensions, then of the residual radiation, spectroscopy, and other weirdness indicators. He used a chisel and some dental floss to pry off samples for later study. Ford's initial theory of this giant tooth being a result of the size-altering crystals proved to be wrong; the spectroscope readings were all wrong. He'd need to do more investigating to find another feasible theory.

The hours flew by as Ford investigated the tooth, the beach, and the lake, looking for more clues to where the thing could have come from. Something was different from yesterday, but he had a hard time putting his finger on what exactly that something was. He walked back toward the beach where they’d been playing yesterday, trying to jog his memory. That’s when it dawned on him. Yesterday, this part of the beach had opened up into the open water of the lake, with plenty of room for swimming and swinging. Now, there was a small island just off the shore, close enough that Ford was sure they would’ve been able to swing to it on their longest jump yesterday.

The researcher immediately pulled out his Journal and began sketching again, a new hypothesis forming in his brain. Was it possible that the giant tooth came from a living island?

He was so caught up in his studies that he didn’t even notice that Stan had left and come back at some point. But then his brother plopped a taco into his lap while he was trying to take water samples closer to the moving island, so Stan must have left to get lunch somewhere.

“Don’t forget to eat, genius.” He grumbled.

“Thanks.” Ford took a bite as he checked the electrolyte levels of the water. He watched a few bits of tortilla shells fall in, which were quickly snapped up by little fish. An idea burst into his head, and he chucked the remainder of his taco toward the island.

“Hey!” Stan cried.

“I need bait!”

“You need dinner!”

“...Don’t you mean lunch?”

“You skipped lunch, poindexter.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “What time is it?”

Stan glanced down at his watch. “A little past six.”

The researcher smacked his forehead. “Fiddleford could be back any minute!”

“Oh yeah.” Stan nodded. “I forgot he was coming back tonight.”

Ford gave one last glance back to  the lake where he’d thrown the taco just a moment before. All he could see were a few bubbles popping up. He turned away and ran back towards Stan’s car.

“Uh, you want me to web this back up? Maybe try and bring it back to the cabin?” Stan asked.

“No time! I’ve learned all I can from it, I’ll come back and investigate the island further at a later date. Right now, we need to get back home and before Fiddleford does.”

“Why is it so important you get home before him?” 

Ford gave a frustrated huff and he pulled his seatbelt on. “To get things cleaned back up! I don’t want any more comments about my bachelor pad from him.”

* * *

They got home with just enough time to clean up the kitchen and the living room when McGucket returned. The young inventor certainly seemed happier and more relaxed after his short vacation. However, something was bothering him. He had some important information to share with Stanford. 

“I know you’ve been eager to get back to work on the portal project, so I was doin’ some calculations while I was away.” He explained as he unpacked a stack of notebooks, his knee bouncing up and down rapidly, as it often did when he was agitated. “We got a problem! In order to create a polydimensional metavortex big enough to actually send somethin’ through it, we’re gonna need some sorta temporal displacement generator. That kinda technology doesn’t exist anywhere on Earth! Even if all the greatest scientific minds of humanity got together and put all their resources together to try an’ develop one, it’d likely take thousands of years!”

Ford smiled coyly. “The technology doesn’t exist anywhere on Earth, eh?”

“I don’t see what you’re smilin’ about, this isn’t the kind of setback we can just find a workaround for. We may have to abandon this entire concept!”

“We won’t have to abandon anything. I know where we can find a hyperdrive that should do the trick.”

Fiddleford just stared at his friend blankly for a few seconds. “...Is this some sort of prank yer brother put you up to or something?” He finally asked.

“Definitely not.” Stan answered as he entered the room. “My pranks are way better.”

“Stanley, were you eavesdropping on us?” Ford complained.

“Kinda hard not to when I’ve got super-hearing.” Stan shrugged. “Although I think it might be giving out on me. Did you just say you know where to find a hyperdrive? Like from Space Adventure?”

Ford looked around suspiciously, before beckoning his brother and McGucket to the hidden entrance to the secret lab. The entire ride down the elevator, the researcher did his best to maintain an air of mysterious silence. Stan and Fiddleford gave him odd looks the entire time. Finally, in the secluded privacy of Ford’s secret study, satisfied that there could be no more eavesdroppers, he sat his brother and his friend down on the couch.

“What I’m about to tell you will change your entire lives.” He said solemnly.

Fiddleford was waiting on bated breath, but Stan looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“Just over two years ago, I began mapping magnetic anomalies here in the Gravity Falls.” The researcher continued. “They all converged on a hilltop just south of the center of the valley. I hiked up there, my compass spinning, to try and find what caused the magnetic disturbances. What I found was…” He paused for dramatic effect, “a crashed extraterrestrial ship! Lake sediments and aluvium have buried most of it far underground, but the very top of the central dome forms this hill, where only a thin covering of topsoil and plant life hide it from view. I studied it for months before, well, I hit a bit of a roadblock in my studies. Luckily, I found a little help from a friend, and I was able to move forward with my research, but I haven’t had the time to return since.”

Fiddleford’s eyes were wide, and his fingers were curled through his hair. Stan’s expression was hard to read, but Ford got the distinct impression of concern from it. 

“Now, I’m sure both of you can understand why it is imperative that this information not be leaked to the general public or even worse, the government.” The researcher continued. “Outside the confines of this lab, you are to refer to this information as Crash Site Omega, whether in writing, speaking, or otherwise.”

His companions stared back at him blankly for a moment, just letting what Stanford had just dumped on them sink in.

“Sooooo…” Stan finally broke the silence. “There’s seriously a UFO buried under Gravity Falls?”

“Gah!” Fiddleford cried out as he stood suddenly, pulling out a couple of handfuls of hair in the process.

“Whoa, easy there, buddy!” Stan reached out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, but McGucket turned away and began frantically pacing laps around the lab.

“I should have known this would set off his anxiety.” Ford said, torn between being amused and worried by his friend’s reaction.

“This explains… I knew he wasn’t crazy! ...And the fault gouge along the floating cliffs… the valley resembles an impact crater… no outlets… my whole life I wondered… and if any of the technology could be salvaged…!” The inventor muttered to himself as he continued to pace, occasionally tugging at his hair. 

“Ford, I can’t believe you’ve been sittin’ on this for two years!” Stan exclaimed. “If you went public with this, you’d be world famous!”

“Yes, and then the government would cordon this entire valley off and I’d never be able to visit the site again. Either that or I’d suddenly have to compete with thousands of other scientists coming to study it themselves. I’m not going public with this information until I’ve learned everything I can myself. And I ask you to respect that decision, and not try to use this top-secret, world-changing discovery for some get-rich-quick scheme!”

“Hey, no danger of that here!” Stan threw up his hands defensively. “I get it! You think I want some government spooks showin’ up and findin’ out about my powers? Dragging me off to some super-secret lab and runnin’ experiments on me?” He chuckled, remembering where he was now. “I mean, I doubt they’d be as considerate as you guys have been.”

“Honey fogelin', saltlickin' skullduggery Stanford!” McGucket shouted, signaling the end of his pacing. “I cannot believe you have actual proof of not just extraterrestrial life, but that they’ve been here! I never told you about this when we were in college, ‘cuz I figured you’d think I’m nuts, but when I was little my grandma disappeared. Now, the only person there that night with her was my cousin Thistlebert, an’ he always said she was ‘taken by them saucer people!’ The police thought he was just crazy, but I always thought there had to be somethin’ to his claims. Thistlebert might not’ve been the sharpest tool in the McGucket family shed, but he wasn’t crazy, and he definitely wasn’t a liar.

“I can’t believe I never figured it out myself!” the inventor continued to ramble. “The shape of the floatin’ cliffs, the ellipse of the valley, the placement of the waterfall, the fact that there’s only one pass in or out of the basin… all the geography points to it!” He turned to Ford, an excited grin on his face. “I have so many questions!”

“You’ll be able to answer them yourself soon!” Ford assured him. “We can leave tomorrow. It’s a two day hike out to the only entrance up on that hill. We’ll need to pack plenty of camping supplies, as well as radiation equipment and gear to navigate the ship’s interior. That’s where you come in, Stanley. Your powers and the web shooters should help us explore more easily.”

“Wait, two day hike?” Stan asked incredulously. “You said it’s just a hill in the middle of the valley, why don’t we just drive? It only takes three hours to drive here from Portland, it can’t take more than one hour to drive to some place you can see from town.”

“It’s in the middle of a large cow pasture on a local farm’s property, there aren’t any roads up there.”

“Yeah, but there’s gotta at least be a road to the farm, right? Then we’ll only have to hike for a couple of hours, and not spend the night in monster infested woods.”

“Well, what better way to explore and find new anomalies to study!” Ford protested. “Every monster we find in those woods is another step closer to understanding why Gravity Falls is such a hot spot for weirdness!”

“I-I’m with Stanley on this one.” Fiddleford admitted. “I know the whole reason you came out here was to study them monsters, but I’m just here to assist in buildin’ yer portal project. I’d prefer to stay outta the monster huntin’.”

Ford deflated. He loved spending time out in the woods of Gravity Falls, finding new creatures and hidden places that no human eyes had seen for hundreds of years. He’d really be looking forward to sharing them with his friend and his brother… and honestly, he’d been looking forward to just camping with them.

“Well, it seems I’m outvoted.” he grumbled in defeat. “Especially considering I’m the only one among the three of us who doesn’t have a functioning vehicle. We’ll still need to pack the necessary equipment. In addition to the radiation gear and web shooters, we’ll need the magnet guns I developed from technology I found at the crash site. They’ll be necessary to scramble the ship’s security systems, but they’ll also be helpful for getting around. Just be careful not to aim them at the sky. I, uh, accidentally crashed one of the Northwest’s helicopters once. Luckily no one was hurt, and they could never prove I had anything to do with it, but I’d rather not have a repeat of that incident.”

USG’N NBIVR, ZFEUWR, C’CY DEDY JHII RIL TLCL AVG KS AUMR PSNL DBEWMYI ULRM.

[codenamesazanka]

For Shigaraki Birthday Week, Day 1: Rebirth

Title: running blind

Notes: Playing somewhat loose with the prompt. Also, fulfilling an ask or two I got last week: Spinaraki angst, and reincarnation. Sorta! I confess, and a warning, this fic will be rather strange, but I hope you’ll read it through! Thank you.  Title subject to change. 

-

*

It’s an impossible promise.

But Shuu will keep it.

*

The lights, the smells, the noises - they’re all too much. But Shuu keeps running, no matter what. No matter that he’s as good as blind in this alien city, having no direction and no destination; no matter the increasing bullet grazes on his back, (even with his scales they hurt so bad); no matter that what they’re looking for might not even exist. 

Ten isn’t… He needs… Shuu hugs the small body he’s carrying in his arms closer, tighter, feeling for shallow breaths on his neck. 

“Someone! Help!” Shuu’s voice is hoarse; he feels his throat failing, losing its grip on the air fueling his screams. “Please, help!”

Metas stick together. Ten said so. The metas, the mutants in this city, they must hear him, they must, they have to. 

He hears the car before he sees it, and he’s able to spin around and crash into it with his back, shielding Ten. Even that didn’t wake him up, but it didn’t seem to hurt him either. Shuu still can feel him breathing, however slight, can still feel his beating heart.

Avoiding one death, but now facing another. The hunters advance, big and looming, and Shuu wraps his tail around him and Ten, squeezing his eyes shut, knowing it won’t save them; knowing that at least they were going to die together. 

What happens next, he isn’t really sure. He hears screams and he tastes blood in the air, tastes fear and pain—

—but not from him. Not from Ten and him.

Instead, they’re unharmed; instead, a gentle hand touches his cheek; instead of death, there is a man. 

“My children,” The man murmurs. He blocks the sun, shadows hiding his face, and all Shuu can make out is a smile. “Don’t be frightened. I’m here.” 

*

The whispers at the Center—

his meta power is everything/ he can take meta abilities away/ Can give them to anyone too/ He’s got dozens/ he has hundreds/ he can do anything/ he’s gonna be leader of the metas/ he’ll change things/ make a new world

—called him The Oracle. 

The Oracle says to call him ‘Sensei’. 

*

“They wanted to move me to... to somewhere. Somewhere called Hong Kong.” Shuu stammers, words tangling and tumbling. His mouth is dry, his tongue is swollen, his chest is tight, but he can’t stop talking. For some reason he feels he must tell Sensei everything, empty himself out and hand it all over. “Ten too, they were gonna give him away, but to Canada.”

“And that’s when you two began to plan.” Sensei looks at him like Ten does, like he sees Shuu there, really there, wants him there. Even after they get what they want, they still stay, just for him. “Shuu-kun, I want to hear more, how you two escaped.” 

“He stabbed himself,” Shuu says, then winces. It jumped out, and now so did all the images he has been trying to forget. “Remember Ten’s meta power? I told you, he can push his hurt—“ 

“He has the ability to transfer damage. Yes, I remember. Healing and harming, both.” 

Shuu nods. “I stole a pen and gave it to him and he hid it. When it was Friday nighttime, after a bunch of the Doctors left, Ten stabbed himself and pushed his wound out on his door and it broke. Stab... stabbed again and broke the floor, then walls. All the kids got out, like we planned. We planned with the other kids, they each were supposed to do something, and it worked.”

“Aoi broke the sprinklers, so water was everywhere, and Mi— she’s an older kid, she‘s... VA Risk 5, and they would—to her—” He stops, before his mouth moves again, raw truth crawling out. 

Sensei only sighs. “And your Center is supposed to be one of the more forward-thinking, humane laboratories. Well. Please, continue.” 

“Mi used the water to drown the adults. Slammed them, and crushed them, mini tsunamis. The water was orange... Then all red.” Shuu rubs his jaw. “...My mouth and teeth too.

“I bit a lot of people.” Even now he tastes that thick, sour red. “I’m... Severely Aberrant, but I was mostly good, I’m VA Risk 2, so they were nice with me. And I killed them.”

“Do not be ashamed,” Sensei said softly. “You did the right thing. You and your friends.” 

“Ten’s my best friend!” Shuu blurts out, really loud. “We... I never had one. Everyone at the Center is a Friend, but. For Ten, I’ll do anything. Before I met him, I was… lost.“ 

13 years, all his life. Nothing but the Center, and it took up his center, his core, his heart. Swallowed it up. Tossed it away, unneeded. Gone.

Then Ten arrived. And he found it.

*

You’ve never been outside? Ever?

I’ve been here since I was a baby. I was born like this, so…

That’s awful. When I break out, I’m taking you with me. 

Me?

I’m gonna go back to my aunts and we’ll hide better this time, with you too. 

What! But I—

Shut up, Shuu. I’ve decided. You’re coming.

*

The man is just like the stories say: he will grant miracles. Except...

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Shuu-kun?” Sensei asks, when Shuu wanted him to take away his aberration. “It’s a part of you, uniquely yours.”

He lets his gaze linger on Shuu, as if able to see Shuu’s meta-mutation as a thing, inside of him. DNA somehow shaped like a reptile, Shuu imagines, and The Oracle would be able to pick it up, put it away. 

Then Sensei looks at Ten, who had woken up, on and off, but is now sleeping again, in the medical room for the third day, still on IVs and a ventilator. 

“You successfully got here from Okinawa, you valiantly fought your way through your enemies trying to stop you, recapture you,” Sensei says. “Most importantly, you protected Ten-kun. All thanks to your impervious scales, your sharp claws, your powerful tail.” 

Each mention of his distortions makes the part twinge, mini ghosts flying out, remaking the feelings of the times they were used.

“What does your heart tell you?” Sensei’s dark-bright eyes are on him again. “Think about it. Who and what you want to be...and the power you need to do so.”

-

Your tail is cool. It’s like another arm.

Stop trying to grab at it! 

I’ll stop if you stop waving it around… ...See? 

Only cuz you’re trying to touch it! And you’re not allowed.

But it’s fun.

I’m not even allowed to use it. 

That’s a stupid rule, stop listening to them— Gotcha!

Hey!

-

Ten doesn’t like The Oracle.

“You’re the one who said to find him,” Shuu points out. They’re eating dinner on the 30th floor of a skyscraper; it’s part of Sensei's territory, like a tower of a castle. Sitting in a corner by the window, the view is a galaxy of lights. Nighttime in Kyoto.

Ten elbows him. “It was a maybe. And I’ve decided now: never mind him. Our plan is still to go back to Tokyo, and find my aunts.” 

“He can help us find them, you know…” 

Another elbow into his ribs. “We don’t need him. He’s weird. Creepy-weird.” 

“Really? ...I think he’s okay. Nice.”

“That’s how they get you, Shuu! They act nice and smart and all fancy, but they’re not. I know it. The way he looks at you and me, he’s like the scientists.” 

“You just don’t like that he said your meta ability is bad for you.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with my power!” Ten exclaims. “What does he know? He said himself that he’s never seen one like it. So he doesn’t know nothing.”

Ten snaps the chopstick in his hand in half, though the two pieces are still connected, dangling. Before Shuu can stop him, Ten absorbs the damage. 

Strands of wood weave themselves back together, settling back in place. Then Ten grabs an empty can of soda. As the chopstick becomes whole again, the can falls apart instead. 

“Nothing wrong with it!” 

But Ten says this through gritted teeth.

“Stupid!” Shuu smacks both things out of Ten’s hands. “Don’t use it anymore. See? It’s hurting you. It’s making you sick.”

He wraps his arms around Ten, who’s pretending that he isn’t trembling, isn’t breathing hard. 

“It’s only because I’m still recovering.” Ten grips his arm, painfully tight. “I’ll be fine.” 

“You always say that.”

Shuu remembers. The wound closed up, and the wall beneath Ten’s hand cracked and crumbled; but not enough. I’m fine, a gasp Shuu could barely hear, shaking arm raised, pen plunging back into flesh—

A fatal paradox, Sensei called it. Because as quick as Ten can pull and push injuries away, he still had to take it into himself first. Hurt himself. And then.

“Sensei said your inside is healing itself by damaging itself to heal itself.” Shu whispers. It has been days, but the horror still remains. “It’s eating you alive. Stop using it. Promise you’ll stop.”

“I’m not letting something like that stop me,” Ten mumbles. “I will not.” 

“Ten, please.”

Ten refuses to reply.

Shuu tries to hug the pain out of both of them. 

-

Why did you do that? Help me?

You were hurt. 

No, I mean, why? 

Why not? 

Because you’re not supposed to use your power! And, not for someone like me! I’m—

Shuu, right?

What? 

You’re Shuu. I’m Ten. Now we know each other. Now you’re not just “someone”. 

-

Kiro is fast, but Shuu is faster. With his tail, he blocks the fist coming for Ten, before tackling the man altogether. 

He’s getting good at that - using his tail. Fighting.

Shouting Shuu’s name, Ten joins in, backing him up, pouncing onto Kiro’s legs.

“You little shits!” Kiro hisses, trying to push them off. “This is how you repay Sensei? After he saved your sorry asses? I oughta—”

“Calm down, Kiro,” Sensei says, and everything stops. “There is nothing to be repaid. They’re free to leave, if they want.”

As everyone untangles themselves, he watches without a hint of anger or annoyance at the scuffle. Always calm, always patient. “Though I will be sad to see you two go, Shuu-kun, Ten-kun. I had hoped you would consider this place home.” 

“I have a home.” Ten says as he pulls Shuu up to his feet. “I’ve got family. They’re waiting for me.” 

“And for your friend?” 

“Him too!” Ten snaps. “They’re waiting for us.”

“Oi, watch your tone—”

“Thanks for helping us, Sensei.” Shuu says, hoping to prevent another fight. “We’re grateful, really.” 

Sensei smiles. “You boys will always be welcome, should the need arise. Food, medical care, sanctuary… As you’ve experienced this past week, everything is here. Remember that.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Ten tugs at Shuu’s hand. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“A total waste, Sensei,” Kiro grumbles loudly, very much intending for Shuu and Ten to hear as they leave the room. 

“Kiro, that’s enough.” This time, Sensei’s voice is harder, final. “Actually, do go make sure they have everything they need for their journey. It’ll be a long one.” 

That digs at Shuu, because even after all that, Sensei still wants to help. He’s not a bad guy at all, Shuu wants to tell Ten. 

And this is why later, in the evening, after waiting for Ten to fall asleep, Shuu goes to Kiro, and asks to help. Something to do, any way he could give something back. 

“Cleaning things, moving things—” Not that Shuu has ever done much of any of it, “A mission. Dunno. I wanna help.” 

Kiro sizes him up.

*

What’s the difference?

The difference is that I like you even if you’re dumb—I’m kidding! Sorry. 

I don’t like this already.

I said I’m sorry! I mean it. You can call me dumb too. Cuz being best friends means we stick together, no matter what. We keep our promises, we have each other’s back. You’ll do anything for me...

*

All he has to do is crawl through the vents. All he has to do is to stick something to the wall. All he has to do is be quiet. Such a simple, easy thing.

Shuu messes up anyways. 

*

...and I’ll do anything for you.

*

Caught and shocked and choked - a big ass lizard, like hunting a crocodile, laughter, laughter, the sound of which Shuu knows he’ll never forget for as long as he lives.

In the time between the kick to his head and waking up to Sensei at his bedside, he was rescued and brought back; and somewhere in those few hours—

Ten was his best friend. 

—He didn’t hesitate, Sensei tells him. He did not spare even a second to transfer, for all his focus was on healing you—

Then he wasn’t anymore.

*

The tears won’t stop and the world is dissolved in water, but seeing isn’t necessary to beg.

Shuu begs, because this man is the Oracle, the closest thing to a living god this world has. He is hope itself right now; to Shuu, his only hope. He has to be, he must, please, there must be something, anything, Sensei can do can save Ten—

“Shuu.” Sensei’s hand is heavy on his shoulder; as is his name, spoken, without the usual ‘-kun’. Heavy too, is the weight of all the unspoken things that comes with it - disapproval, though not unkind; the finality; the truth Shuu refuses to accept, not yet.

“It’s my fault,” Shuu says, more to himself than to Sensei. “It’s my fault, mine.” 

But Sensei responds: “You’re to be blamed as much as Ten-kun is to be blamed for caring about you. Would you say this is his fault?”

“No! No, never—”

“Then the fault lies elsewhere. The ones who harmed you, who forced Ten-kun to use his power to save you, the creators of this tragedy. Don’t you agree?” 

He knows. The hunters, the ones who chase and laugh and kick, who will never consider them human, just freaks to be wiped out - even people like Ten, normal except for just one special thing. The scientists, the non-metas. All of them, everyone, the world. And—

“Still me.” This is still the truth, the one he accepted already. “I was… If I had been better, tougher...”

“You can still be so. It’s not yet the end for you.” Sensei squeezes his shoulder. “Strength can be taught. Fortitude, resilience. Even revenge, if you wish for it.”

Shuu slowly looks up, and Sensei smiles down at him. “Whatever you may seek, I will give.

“All you need to do is stay with me.”

*

With a touch to the head, the gesture like the affectionate ruffling of hair, or a praising pat for an obedient child, Sensei takes away Ten’s meta ability. 

Such a small, quiet thing, no blinding light or shockwaves. The only piece left of Ten in the world is within Sensei, and Shuu thinks that if he can help the Oracle in any way, protect him, then isn’t he protecting Ten, somehow? His power to heal, to fight, to change things. 

“I’ll leave you to your goodbye,” Sensei says, and when he is gone, Shuu climbs onto the bed, next to Ten. He wraps himself around his friend, one last time, holding him close, feeling his faint, fading heartbeats. 

When Ten is gone, Shuu is lost too, once again. 

But I’ll find you. In the next world; in Heaven or in Hell; in a future life; or even just in pure blackness, somehow. Ten found him; this time it’ll be Shuu’s turn. 

“I’ll do better, I’ll protect you,” Shuu whispers. “Ten, I’ll find you. I promise.”

*

*

*

Too many trees here, blocking Spinner’s vision, he’s running as good as blind. 

“Shit. Shit!” Spinner tries to follow the roars and rumbles, but Gigantomachia is too big and too fast. One moment there, next moment not. How the hell did he even manage to get lost from a fight that is literally visible from space?

Not again. Spinner thinks, as he dashes through the forest, slashing at branches, leaping over rocks. I can’t fail him again! Where are you?

(Somewhere deep but faint in his mind, Spinner wonders about ‘again’. Doesn’t make sense, but it feels correct. For doubting their leader, for dismissing him, one or the other, both. More.) 

There— in front, meters away, to the right, a boulder splitting, crumbling; ground, cracking. Spinner skids to a stop, before racing off again, fast as he could, blade ready—

Black and death white, so clear among the chaos. Found ya. 

Spinner shouts.

“Shigaraki!”

*

-

Notes, again: So! Bit of a mess, my apologies! 

Shuu is PastLife!Spinner; his quirk is still being a lizard, except stronger + tail. PastLife!Ten is Shigaraki/Tenko. They remember nothing, except maybe some vague inexplicable... somethings. 

The Oracle/Sensei is All For One, the one and only, same as always, a bastard. 

Setting is the chaotic 100+ years ago, when quirks first started appearing. 

Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! Constructive criticism always extremely welcomed. 

[ecofinisher]

Super Mom! (Miraculous oneshot)

Elliot, Kagami and Adrien's common son is kidnapped and Kagami doesn't hesitate and transforms!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24352594/chapters/63445102

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13679785/1/Super-Mom

Kagami stood on the other side of the road along with her husband Adrien Agreste gazing at the kindergarten, where they saw through the window all the kids cleaning together the classroom.

"12:24 is it now" Adrien pointed out as he checked his smartphone to see the time. "They're usually done at 12,"

"Maybe something took longer or there was a kid's birthday and they brought cake and drinks"

"Could be" Adrien replied with a shrug. "Won't be a problem this evening, as on Friday's and Tuesday's Elliott is off from the kindergarten,"

Adrien glanced back on the road, then unlocked their SUV and climbed into the vehicle.

"I'll replacing it somewhere, there's officer Roger checking the roads," Adrien mentioned closing the door behind him and Kagami stepped aside to see her husband leave with their car and Kagami stood under a light pole to see if her son would finally come.

Moments later Kagami noticed a man enter into the front yard of the kindergarten and stopped there watching the children slowly move out of the classroom to the hall of the school. Another man and a woman appeared on the sidewalk next to the building and stepped up on the garden to wait for the children. A few children ran out of the house, one of the boys ran at the last man to give him a hug and Kagami crossed the road to enter into the garden and saw her son coming out of the building making Kagami smile, which looked around to see Adrien walk down the sidewalk to meet her.

"I've parked on a visitor parking spot from another house. We will be quick" Adrien told, then looked along with Kagami into the garden to see their son look up at the man in the wine read shirt talk to the blonde.

"Who's that guy?" Kagami asked making Adrien shrug his shoulders.

"Maybe someone's dad?" Adrien replied making Kagami shrug her shoulders and watch the man point up at another exit of the front yard and Elliot walked that path and the man observed the other two adults occupied with their children and moved behind Elliot fast.

"Wait, where's he going?" Kagami asked noticing Elliot going the wrong direction.

"Elliot!" Adrien shouted. "Where are you going?" Adrien asked loud seeing Elliot look at his parents getting bewildered and the man packed the boy covering his mouth and ran off.

"He's taking our son!" Kagami exclaimed watching Adrien race behind the man and the other man took his smartphone to inform the police and the third woman ran with her son into the building. Kagami went on off the garden to check if there was any pedestrian and opened her blazer to have her kwami Longg looking up at her.

"I've seen" Longg mentioned. "Quick, every second count"

"Long, break the storm!" The woman shouted out the activation phrase to transform into the superheroine Ryuko. Afterward, she ran across the garden to pursue her husband and at the other side of the road she saw the man was a few meters away from from the blonde, then arrived at a White van, then pushed the kid into the mail delivery van and got to start the vehicles motor turning the reverse lights on and drove fast towards Adrien which jumped aside to avoid landing under the wheels.

Ryuko jumped in front of the man holding out her sword watching the car drive towards them, but it made a U-turn and drove off fast leaving Ryuko angrily back.

"Take the car, I'll be watching over them" Ryuko ordered while helping Adrien up, which ran towards the end of the roadside where he left the SUV and the dragon-themed superheroine observed the vehicle disappear in the far and called upon one of her elemental powers. "Wind Dragon!" She shouted turning into a light-dark fume flying over the road to get closer to the vehicle afterward she went down under the vehicle pulling it up in the air to prevent the vehicle to drive only leaving its wheels spinning around fast due to the lost of contact to the hard ground.

Adrien appeared on his SUV stopping behind the car, then he got out of it and Ryuko in the form of the wind approached the ground and Adrien grabbed on the door handle to open the door and his son Elliot felt down on his arms,

Afterward, Ryuko dropped the vehicle on the ground letting it speed up quickly making it lose its control and crash on a fence near the front yard. Elliot hugged his father hard which patted the boy's back for comfort.

"Elliot, haven't I and mother told you about not talking to strangers?" Adrien asked earning a disappointed facial expression of the boy as he nodded.

"He said he was friends with my dad and you said he would bring me home and he would give us all food, " Elliot told making Adrien shake his head. "I'm so sorry, dad"

"Oh Elliot, please next time run back into the classroom. I wouldn't ask any of my friends to bring you home, mostly if you don't know them, "

"But I found it strange as I saw you there waiting for me" Elliot mentioned. "I'm sorry dad. I didn't want this all to happen"

Ryuko transformed back from Wind into Ryuko again and went down at the two to make sure they're okay.

"Are you two alright?" Ryuko asked earning a nod from the blonde.

"Yes" Adrien answered, then noticed the man escaping, then Adrien got up and pursued the man leaving Elliot back with Ryuko. "Hey, you!"

Ryuko placed her hand on Elliot's face to gaze into his maroon eyes which were a little shiny due to being sad about what had happened.

"Everything is okay, my dear" Ryuko stated patting him with her hand earning a nod from the blonde.

"Mommy won't be mad at me too won't she?"

"Of course not" Ryuko answered pulling the boy up in his arms. "She will be happy to know you're okay. Then only thing she could do is warn you about what happened"

"Why did that man want to take me?" Elliot asked making the heroine shrug her shoulders.

"I don't know it, dear. However, you know certain persons don't always look what they seem to be, so you're better be careful with strangers"

"Thank you" Elliot said, then Adrien appeared exhausted from the run, then held the boy on his shoulders.

"Roger caught him. He'll be sending him for interrogation" Adrien said, then glanced down at his son, which nodded.

"So I can go back without any problems?" Ryuko asked with a wink at her husband which nodded.

"Thanks for the help" Adrien thanked then Ryuko patted the boy on his head.

" See you soon," Ryuko told the boy while she kissed him on his forehead making him turn red on his cheeks at the sense of her lips on him. Ryuko ran away leaving Adrien back which smiled at seeing his wife in the super-suit head away, then Adrien patted his son on the back and accompanied him back to the car, where they encountered a tired Kagami, which came running from the other side of the kindergarten.

"I'm so sorry mom!" Elliot ran towards his mother's legs, making her smile and embrace him while Adrien stood behind the boy and looked at his wife, which gave him an assuring smile and observed him getting back into the car to the driver seat.

"You had bad luck today. Next time you'll know it better" Kagami promised helping the boy enter into the family SUV and got into the front seat to be next to her husband. "Nothing more happened to you, right?"

"No, he just took me into his car" Elliot answered sad.

"That is a relief," Kagami answered looking at Adrien, which smiled and patted his wife on her thigh, seeing her mirror his facial expression back, therefore he placed his hand back on the lever pulling it to D, so they could drive off the parking spot.

[ducktracy]

115. hollywood capers (1935)

release date: october 19th, 1935

series: looney tunes

director: jack king

starring: tommy bond (beans), bernice hansen (kitty), billy bletcher (guard, frankenstein’s monster)

originally titled beans in hollywood (i suppose it’s good they changed it, not that repeating titles matter but you’ll have daffy duck in hollywood, too), hollywood capers centers around beans’ infatuation with the movie industry, dropping in on a recording sessions. however, things quickly run amuck once he accidentally powers on a ferocious frankenstein robot.

activity is high as ever at warmer bros studios (a pun frequented in many a cartoon). actors bustle to and fro, including a humorous caricature of w.c. fields, sauntering along with a rolling cane, cigar propped in his mouth and showing off some gaudy checkered pants. the guard and fields (pinned as “mr. seal”) exchange “good morning”s. suddenly, fields places his hat atop the guard’s head and pops his cigar in the guard’s mouth. he positions his cane like a cue stick, shooting off any ash. very amusing and creative. he regains his cigar and hat, matching into the studio as the guard scratches his head.

next comes our favorite hollywood star, beans. he putters along in his car, the engine shorting out and making for a bumpy ride, animation fun and flexible. screeching to a halt at the gate, beans allows the guard to interrogate him, the guard growling “who do you think YOU are?” beans jumps up and puffs out his chest proudly. “beans is the name, one of the boston beans!” (not a solid reference to anything in particular as far as i know, except for boston baked beans. still fun and downright stupid.) a nice touch as he tilts his hat forward and holds out his overall straps smugly.

the guard is having none of it. he grabs the car and pushes it backwards, and beans is sent riding up into a tree, the car exploding. rubbery, smooth animation as beans dangles on the safety of a tire, bouncing up and down, his butt honking the car horn.

other celebrities have better luck than beans. a charlie chaplin caricature enters with ease, his car wheels moving along like actual feet. oliver hardy also saunters into the studio, greeted by the guard. hardy briefly acknowledges the guard’s “good morning, mr. hardy!” as he strolls inside the studio. once far enough in, a familiar hand unbuttons the jacket’s buttons, and beans steps out of the disguise as his hardy getup, nothing more than a bundle of balloons and clothes, rise into the sky. this could also be paralleled with porky’s attempts to disguise himself as hardy in order to enter the warner bros lot as well in friz freleng’s you ought to be in pictures, freleng’s approach much more amusing and rewarding. still a nice gag here, though.

giddy at the fact that he’s in, beans wanders the lot and enters one of the studios, a sign posted on the door indicating that they’re filming.

i was wondering if oliver owl would ever make an appearance again! granted, i haven’t seen many of jack king’s beans cartoons, maybe a little more than half. but it seemed like all of the gang from i haven’t got a hat was reused except for oliver. here, he’s an adult, a crotchety, anxious director pacing around, accompanied by a dog assistant who matches his pace. the dog bumps into oliver, who isn’t pleased. he orders the dog to go back to his post at the camera.

oliver loops himself down in his director’s chair and barks “quiet!” a tanned porky makes a cameo as he shushes the bystanders in the studio. a shot of a man asleep on the rafters, blowing out a candle that also aligns with a chorus of hushes. beans’ shadow also shushes him, as does an anthropomorphized microphone.

the cameras are now rolling. lovely animation as the camera man runs over to film the scene, his camera running like stilts. little kitty is the star of the film, singing “sweet flossie farmer” as a turtle (the one used during porky’s performance in i haven’t got a hat) accompanies her on piano. a barbershop trio lend their voices, as does the piano playing turtle. beans observes in awe as he stands on the rafters.

a brief interlude as a man plays “chopsticks” on a cash register, reused from those were wonderful days. it’s been awhile since we’ve seen any recycled animation, or at least to my knowledge. the piano playing turtle tickles the ivory as he lies on his shell playing dueling pianos. animation is also reused from buddy’s beer garden as a bartender fills up various mugs with some beer to the beat of the music.

back to beans, who’s still ogling in awe at the scene below—the stuttering dog from into your dance attempting to woo an indignant kitty. disaster strikes when a nearby workman passes by, carrying a long piece of board. as he turns the corner, the board smacks beans and sends him flying. he attempts to grab onto a rope for support, yet the rope is tied to nothing. despite his best efforts, beans is sent tumbling down, right into the arms of the dog.

rightfully so, everyone is shocked, especially oliver and his anthropomorphic director’s chair (king’s disney roots seeping in once more). he marches over to beans, who dutifully introduces himself, once more repeating his “beans is the name, one of the boston beans!” greeting. it didn’t work before, and it doesn’t work now. oliver grabs beans and throws him out (another future parallel to you ought to be in pictures).

beans rockets through the studio, landing right onto the set of frankenstein. granted, a robotic adaptation, but still. he discovers a bench obscured by a white sheet. pulling back the sheet, beans is met with the grotesque face of frankenstein’s monster. in the midst of his shock, beans stumbles backwards and trips over a power switch, which brings the robotic monster to life. beans runs for his little life as frankenstein’s monster limbers up, stretching before barreling right through a wall leading to the prop department.

the dog camera man is rolling, just in time to catch the metal menace marching towards his camera. the sound effects are a bit misplaced as the monster literally swallows the camera (a jack king trademark), the sound of crunching already playing as his mouth is still gaping open. the sound effects are a little off in this one. sometimes it isn’t noticeable, sometimes it is—nothing against bernard brown, there’s only so much you can do. treg brown’s ingenuity and creativity in his sounds is sorely missed. nevertheless, the monster devours the camera whole, wincing as he chomps on a bolt. he spits out a plethora of camera parts, including a film strip—accompanied by a jarringly funny machine gun sound effect.

kitty spots the monster, a fun take as her bonnet spins above her in shock. she darts away as the monster stumbles across a mirror, sticking out his tongue and mocking himself. it’s a useless and arbitrary gag for sure, but also funny for that reason alone. like a baby or an animal discovering its reflection for the first time. he gets closer to the mirror, mocking himself once more. his reflection leans back and punches his actual self hard, a gag that would be reused in porky’s double trouble to the same degree.

the monster is sent flying right into a tub of water, where he squeezes his head to pour out the water from his ears and scalp (his hair rising like a toupée as a geyser of water spurts out from his head). the animation is fun and amusing, always entertaining to see particularly hard substances turned to rubber. though this IS the rubber hose era of animation, so that’s a given.

beans spots a metal rod propped up to a spotlight, which he can use to his advantage. he sneaks up behind the robot, who’s still drying himself off. his plan is sent into action as beans wraps the rod around the monster, constricting him into place. of course, a simple puff of the chest and the binds are broken free by the monster. a fun indicator of personality as beans flashes a guilty, sly smile (one thinks of the many guilty grins conjured up by daffy as he gets himself into trouble), bashfully dragging his feet.

cue a triumphant chase sequence as beans runs from the monster, who snags him by the overalls. a slightly incoherent cut as beans is seen flying through the air, crashing into many doors that pile up beneath him like dominos, one by one. the animation is very smooth and tantalizing as the doors collapse to the ground, beans skidding across the floor like butter.

he slides straight into a giant fan (or in this case, labeled as a wind machine). an idea hatches as he disregards any instructions to turn off the fan. he turns the switch, and a harsh breeze blows against the approaching monster. beans slides the fan closer to the monster, and eventually the monster is chopped to pieces as he walks right through it. his remains splay out on the form, forming a makeshift engine of a car. robotic arms smack the monster repeatedly in the face as we iris out.

not bad at all—i found a cartoonist’s nightmare to be more entertaining and smooth sailing, but this was more enjoyable than any buddy cartoon by king. the biggest downfall to this cartoon was slight lapses in coherence, often gags falling short of their intentions and jarring animation cuts. the sound effects also felt occasionally out of place. nevertheless, high energy and decent. a neat way to reprise the cast of i haven’t got a hat. ham and ex, the two curious pups, were missing from this cartoon, but they’d make prominent sidekicks for beans in his cartoons as troublemaking tricksters. this cartoon felt very similar to you ought to be in pictures (one of my favorite cartoons). protagonist has trouble entering a studio, and once he manages to get in, trouble is never ending. ultimately, a bit soupy at times, but a decent, entertaining short that makes for an amusing watch.

our next review is our most important yet—tex avery makes his debut with gold diggers of ‘49, which could be debated as to why looney tunes is the phenomenon that it is today.

[a-jynx]

The Beast of Kansas: P1: Wolf Among Us

Summary: You’ve known them for years… You could always run to the Winchester boys for an escape of daily life. With their dumb fairytales of hunting the Supernatural, to their idiotic stories of breaking into the public pool -- and getting arrested. 

You knew them, or at least… You thought you did. What happens when rumors begin to leak through small-town Lawrence, Kansas about your best friends and their family? How will you and the boys handle new threats? More importantly, will you survive The Beast of Kansas…?

Warnings: Mentions of death, smut warning, cursing, blood/gory battles, death threats, kidnapping/ almost rape, slight mention of drug use, alcohol consumption, rival packs, angst

Pairing(s): Beast! Sam x Y/N Turner 

Notes: The Beast of Kansas is a rewrite of The Roaring Night series I started a little more than a year ago -- maybe even more, but I’ve had the idea stuck in my head forever, so I figured it was time to pay it a visit. {Tags for this series are open/ at the bottom} 

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated & encouraged! 

If someone had mentioned to me that even after getting a couple of years of college in, only to end up coming back to the town I hoped to escape… I would’ve probably told you, “you’re right.” 

I sighed, scribbling on the large, yellow notepad while barely glancing up at the sound of our little bell. My thoughts seemed… Cloudy this morning, nothing really making sense or information sticking as I tried to send in orders for parts and help make appointments for people who came inside. 

“Well, well, well, someone seems out of it this morning,” a poke came from beside me as I turned my head, a sudden grin shooting across my face. “Dean-y boy!” I jumped towards my best friend, wrapping my arms tightly around his throat as he grinned, hugging my waist tightly before settling my feet back to the tiled flooring. “What’re you doing here? I thought you took the week off for a family thing?” He barely shrugged, stepping past me and clocking in his ticket before settling it back in its pouch, turning back towards me. 

“Figured you would get bored by yourself, so, I thought I’d come to amuse you,” Dean smirked as I shook my head, the loose hair from my bun swaying as I followed behind him towards the garage, figuring a quick visit wouldn’t be that bad. 

“Bobby! Look what the cat drug in!” I called as Dean opened the plastic door, rolling his eyes as I smirked, listening to some steel tools drop as Bobby appeared from behind an older Mustang. 

“Well, I thought I wouldn’t see you for another week,” Bobby grinned as he moved forward, wiping his hands while hugging Dean as I smirked, leaning against the doorway with a sigh. “Where’s your tail at?” Bobby teased, as Dean shook his head, turning towards me and handing me his backpack as I frowned, seeing the slight displeasure in his usually glittering eyes. 

“Y’ know how he is… Wants to get out of town and probably never look back.” Dean all but sighed as my frown deepened. That couldn’t be true… Sam had family here -- a legacy, but… I suppose I’m the exact same as him. I shrugged on Dean’s backpack and moved towards the worker’s room, hanging it on its usual hook when the gentle chime came from the front. 

“Be with you in a second!” 

“Well, I was hoping to say hi before you shunned me,” a gravelly voice called as I stilled. Blinking, I quickly turned and rounded the corner only to slightly gasp, a gentle scoff leaving my lips. 

“Sam..?” I couldn’t fight back the smile that fought as his name passed my lips. Practically running towards him, I jumped, locking my arms around his neck and shoulders as both of his arms wrapped around my waist, slightly spinning us as I grinned. “Loverboy Samuel, what’re you doing back? I thought you were gone to the city to take your ACT for that college?” I gapped as my shoes toed the ground, Sam’s hands loosely sitting on my waist as my outstretched arms sat on his shoulders. 

“I was, I finished early -- surprisingly.” Sam scoffed, as I frowned, brushing one of my hands against his cheek to make him look at me. 

“Hey, it’s not a surprise at all, Sam. I mean, you’re one of the most intelligent people I know.” I grinned as his lips broke into a careful smirk. As I went to add, I heard a crash come from the back room, making me grow wide-eyed before spinning in Sam’s arms and take off running towards the sound. 

“Oh, my -- Dean! You could’ve broken something!” I shouted into the room, noticing all of the once organized and clean tools were spilled over the floor and some coated with the grease and grime that covered him. He only groaned and slowly sat up, rubbing the side of his head. 

“Yeah, right, more like something could’ve broken ME.” I rolled my eyes before stepping over all of the tools, crouching down next to the older Winchester, glancing over his head as Sam scoffed from behind me. 

“Trust me, Dean, you’re thick skull kept you protected.” He teased as Dean let out a throaty growl, making me freeze before clearing my throat and sighing. “Well, there’s some bleeding and swelling, but nothing some gauze and ice can’t take care of.” I stood, grabbing Dean’s arm and hoisting him up, keeping a steady hold on his side. 

“Sam, can you go grab Bobby for me, please?” I sat Dean on the workbench, before moving towards the door and flipping the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’. 

“Hey, hey, don’t close up shop just because of me,” Dean started as I shook him off, moving towards the cabinet behind my desk, grabbing the medical kit with a frown. 

“Dean-o, it’s fine… People can wait, especially if you’re head’s bleeding. It could lead to worse if we don’t take care of it right away.” I murmured, taking a seat next to him and slowly began to press gauze against the wound, making him hiss as I winced. “Sorry.” 

“Dean, son, what in the hell did you do?” Bobby called as he and Sam entered from the garage, causing Dean to audible groan while leaning his head back against the glass. 

“I… It was an accident, honest, Bobby.” 

“Dean, I don’t care about the shop, are you alright?” Bobby moved closer, gently moving Dean’s hand and gauze to get a better look at the cut. “Damn… Lucky for you, you won’t need your head drained or stitched.” 

“Yay, lucky me…” Dean hissed, pressing the gauze back to its spot as Bobby gathered him, helping him up and out towards the garage, probably to Bobby’s car to take him home, even with the protest of leaving Baby here. “So, remind me again why you dropped out of your nursing program?” Sam asked as I cleaned up the leftover items, chuckling as I shrugged. 

“I… The world doesn’t need any more nurses, or doctors, at the moment Samuel.” I turned, suddenly stopping as I ran into Sam’s chest, my eyes drifting up as one of his hands moved to my cheek, his rough skin caressing my softer one. 

“Anyone would be lucky to have you as their doctor or nurse, sweetpea.” Sam grinned as I huffed, feeling heat rush up my throat and into my cheeks. I went to open my mouth, but before words could even sound, the heavy clanking of the bell chimed from behind Sam, both of us flinching at the force. 

“Excuse me, we’re closed-” I started, feeling suddenly irritated as I took a step from behind Sam, only to internally groan at the sight of my bewildered father. “Oh.. Hi, daddy,” 

“What in hell are you two doing?” He spat, moving towards us as I sighed, allowing my father to grab and practically drag me away from Sam, who stood there with narrowed eyes. 

“Mr. Turner, there’s no need for you to manhandle-” 

“Watch your mouth, boy! Run home, and see that you don’t distract my daughter from her work again.” The word held weight as Sam huffed, rolling his jaw as I eyed him, feeling weak with my father presents. Sam shook his head before moving towards the front door, leaving me in the hands’ of my father, only for him to turn back and stare at me. 

“I’ll see you later, sweetpea.” And with that, he left. 

“I’ll see you soon, loverboy,” I whispered, sighing as I groaned, yanking my forearm from my father’s grip as he turned towards me, a deep frown on his lips. 

“What were you doing with that… Wolf?” My father hissed as I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest, mirroring him. 

“Talking. Daddy, why can’t you just be… Civil to the Winchesters? I mean, what have they done that makes you believe them they’re so bad!” I growled as he ridiculed, shaking his head and turned his head towards the window. 

“How am I supposed to act civil to a bunch of… Wolves?!” 

“Daddy, they aren’t wolves! You’re getting reality confused with fairytales!” I shouted, sneering at him before shaking my head. Rounding the counter, I went to the workers’ room and grabbed my bag, along with Dean’s backpack. 

“I’ll see you back at the house, I need to make a stop.” I spat, moving past my father as he growled, following after me with each step. 

“The moment you go to their house, you’ll be stepping inside a wolves den! You’ll be bitten, scratched, marked -- claimed! You’ll be dancing with the wolf - wolves that live among us! I forbid you from ever seeing, or stepping foot on their property again!” My father screeched after me as I stilled, replaying his words in my head. ‘I forbid you.’ 

“You forbid me..? You FORBID me?!” I yelled, turning on my heel to face him, as his face slightly shifted. “You cannot forbid anything! I’m an adult, now, and you can no longer dictate what I do when I do it, and who I am with! That especially includes the Winchesters!” I shouted before turning on my heel once more and climbing into my car, tossing Dean and I’s bags into the passenger seat without a second thought. 

“Y/N! Y/N Turner, get your ass back here!” Dad continued to scream after me as I rolled my eyes, taking off from the parking lot without so much as a second glance behind me. I couldn’t fight back the scoff that worked up my throat; wolves? Wolves?! My father has jumped off into the deep end of insanity… Wolves. I couldn’t help but snort at the thought. 

----- 

Well. Part 1 of my rewrite has begun... 

---- 

Tags: @waywardnewcomer, @laceyn-1201, @mlovesstories, @i-am-not-a-goat @animallover4000, @fabinaforever11, @ilovemymoose, @torihester, @bellero, @helloangelwarrior, @utterlyhopeful, @dreaminemz, @maybe----not 

Tags are open, as always. If you want to be added, just show interest, if you want to be removed just let me know! 

[mercifuldeaths]

Vertigo: Chapter 2: Jacked Up

Vertigo: Chapter 2

Jacked Up

This fic is in progress.

Jim Mason x Reader

Warnings for this chapter: Graphic descriptions of drug use.

Summary: Jim’s very good at hiding his vices, except, that is, with Medina.

Notes: More exposition. I’m sorry guys but the drama is worth the wait. This is Jim’s story-Y/N is a component, but this is a story about Jim’s journey. Thank you all so much for the positive responses from Ch 1! 

Word Count: 2.6k

Jim would see Y/N at the beach pretty regularly, not that he was looking for her. He couldn’t help that his room had a perfect view of the bay and whenever Medina was going for dawn patrol with her he would have his coffee outside, waiting for Sandy to be awakened by the other’s starting their day in the waves.

It seemed that Medina had finally had a friend, which made him exceedingly happy. Jim recalled the nights Medina would slip into his room and lay on the unmade bed asking why nobody liked her. He didn’t have an answer for her, or rather he did, but didn’t have the heart to tell her.

He couldn’t help but constantly be reminded of how much stronger she was. Of course, she was heartbroken that she didn’t have friends, but she did have the strength to not change herself for others’ approval. Jim couldn’t say the same for himself.

Coming in from his coffee- she wasn’t out there that day- he picked up his backpack and jacket.

“‘Dina,” he whispered, ear pressed to her door. He almost fell over when the door was ripped away from his face.

“Hey, we’re running late, let’s go,” she responded. She managed to smack him with her backpack as they snuck out the door, avoiding Sandy.It was a miracle that she even let him go to his classes.

The pair hopped into Jim’s car, a new Nissan SUV from Phil. A graduation gift his father had called it but Jim knew what it really was. It was a “Sorry we’ve been shitty parents and let you overdose, but here’s a material item that’ll make up for it” gift. Medina got a smaller Volkswagen beetle that she absolutely adored.

It had been three and a half years since his overdose. It really wasn’t even that bad, he thought. He had passed out at home, Sandy overreacted and he spent a night in the hospital. Then Phil proceeded to tell him that they wouldn’t be going to Paris and that he’ll do better.

Admittedly, it had been slightly better. With Sandy back on her meds she wasn’t as prone to mood swings and temper tantrums meaning Jim had slightly more freedom. It didn’t allow him to escape his responsibilities as ‘man of the house’ but things were almost manageable. Almost.

After everything, he had to be more careful. Withdrawal had been a nightmare but when his mind cleared he found that the memory was fuzzy. Turning back to booze, then weed, then pills, then coke, then everything at once, had been an easy decision. This time, though, he needed to be careful.

A few weeks into sobriety, his mother would inevitably forget about Jim’s problems, replacing herself as the center of attention in her mind, so hiding it from her had been a joke. “Oh, I’m just tired, mom. Long day at school,” he’d say as his eyes fluttered shut, laying on the couch with a comfortable blanket of haze clouding his thoughts. She ate that shit up.

His father was even easier. He had still moved out, but his relationship with Ava had ended a while back, now seeing some other redhead. He was never around, not that Jim wanted to see him anyway. But with him being a doctor, he had to make sure he was sober around the man. He’d recognize all the signs, especially knowing Jim was a user.

Medina. She was...complex. He had tried to hide it from her, he really did. She found out almost immediately and hadn’t said anything but he could see the pain in her eyes. The only response she gave was a “Be careful with that shit, Jim. You don’t know what you’re playing with,” bitten out on his way back to his room from the bathroom where he had just taken an oxy. All the warning he needed was written on her face every time she looked at him. He tried to ignore it, for his own sake.

It’s because of this that when she said, “Is it getting bad again? Please tell me,” while biting into an egg McMuffin on their way to campus that morning Jim almost crashed his shiny new car. She had begged to get breakfast on the way and he could never say no to his sister.

“What are you talking about, Medina?” he rolled down the window and looked out the windshield pretending to focus on the traffic in front of him.

“I know what you’re doing. I’m not stupid. But just tell me if it’s that bad again,” she tried to seem casual, sipping her iced coffee but it sounded a little too rehearsed.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry,” his teeth grit together. Turning into the parking lot of their university

“‘Cause I know when mom gets weird you get weird. I don’t think she’s taking her medicine again- since dad’s new girlfriend,” she hesitated not knowing what reaction Jim would have.

His fist slammed against the steering wheel, making Medina jump, spilling coffee on her corduroys. “I’m not ‘getting weird’ or whatever, okay?” he yelled. “Yeah, mom’s fucking crazy again, it’s whatever.” He pulled into a parking space a little too quickly and the car lurched.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be.

Jim’s jaw was still tense, teeth clenched. He took a deep breath through his nose and rolled his eyes back. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for yelling,” he looked over to her and stuck his tongue out a little, the way that usually made her laugh.

She wasn’t laughing. “So it’s gonna be like that, then,” he leaned over and poked her in the ribs, right in the spot that tickled most.

“Jim, stop!” she shrieked, attempting to get away from his long arms. Her laughter bounced in the car. They both smiled.

“Now, go. I know you have ‘Adult Coloring’ or some bullshit,” he loved to make fun of her customized major, full of classes she was taking to one day do what she wanted most, travel and surf. It was a lot of photography, journalism, and some random classes for credits.

“It’s ‘portraiture’, I’ll have you know,” she called over he shoulder before closing the door. Through the open window, she smirked, “Have fun with your blocks or whatever you do.”

He let out a groan that turned into a laugh, “It was once!” he shouted to her back, walking to campus’ central. He had been trying to figure out the flow and perception of this one project he was working on, so yeah he brought out some Legos to visualize it. That’s architecture for you.

What she’ll never mention is that she distracted him and then proceed to spend the entire night on the living room floor trying to one-up each other's towers. Jim using what he had learned from four years of design and structural classes while Medina relied on ‘just staking them up until they fall.’ Her’s was taller by two blocks and she will never let it go.

Grabbing his backpack he decided to pull the small baggie of pills out and place them in an empty plastic cup, hidden under the seat. Out of sight, out of mind. He was almost off his last bender and held a small glimmer of hope that this would be the last time. The back of his mind was already itching for another fix, reminding him to be even more careful around Medina.

Planning for a long day in the library, still trying to find a topic for his senior thesis, he grabbed Medina’s unfinished iced coffee and headed into the beating sun with a brave face painted on.

--

No. No. No. He coughed up more bile, spilling from his throat into the toilet in front of him. It was disgusting, he knew, but he needed to rest his head on the seat of it, cool porcelain taming the heat that coursed through him. He dry heaved this time, causing the head-splitting migraine to reappear.

“Jim?” his mother knocked on the bathroom door. “Jimmy, are you okay?” The handle jiggled but it was locked.

“I’m fine, mom,” he breathed through his nose, trying to stare straight ahead to stop the room from spinning.

“I can hear you in there. Are you sick, honey?”

“Food poisoning. I’m fine.” Short words. Short sentences. The sound of his own voice making him want to smash his head on the tile, hopefully blacking out.

“Let me in,” she demanded. The thought of her being around him made him retch again, this time probably for the last time as there was nothing left to vomit up. But, from experience, he knew to sometimes just go along with Sandy rather than fighting. Especially when he was feeling like this, he had no fight left in him.

He crawled over to the door and managed to unlock it, Sandy not missing a beat and plowing into the room. “Jim!” She kneeled next to him and immediately put her hand over his sweaty forehead. Admittedly, her cool hand felt nice.

“It’s just food poisoning, mom. I’m fine,” he whispered and leaned into her- an instinct leftover from childhood. “Just need to sleep.” Chills wracked his body but sweat was clinging to every pore, the dark circles under his eyes almost red. His irises still shined a brilliant blue.

Sandy put her arm around him and helped to bring him to his feet. They shuffled into his room, his mother rambling about how California sushi can’t be trusted because so many of the people eat it, its mass produced.

Jim wished she would shut the fuck up.

He didn’t fully recognize how, but he was laying in his bed, tee shirt removed, blankets pushed off the mattress. In the fetal position, he slowly rocked himself willing the nausea away. He nearly lept out of his skin when Medina suddenly appeared, replacing Sandy.

“He likes to be alone when he’s sick,” Medina tried to reason to their mother, recalling when they were kids how Jim would always shy away from attention when he was sick, preferring to suffer in silence.

“He doesn’t like to be alone, he likes to be with you,” their mom spit out and turned on her heel, leaving Medina in the doorway holding a glass of water.

She made her way closer Jim, placing the glass on the nightstand. Perching on the side of the bed, she ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair, grimacing a little. He sighed under her touch and closed his eyes again.

“Thank you,” she whispered, mindful of his migraine. His eye cracked open and managed to convey his confusion. “I know what this is.”

“It’s food poisoning, that’s what it is. It’s that bullshit sushi we stopped for. Thanks for that,” he scoffed. She knew he didn’t mean any of it, that he was hurting. She could see his muscles twitch under his thin skin. They reminded her of springs, coiled and ready. His eyes screwed shut again and he nuzzled into her thigh. She could hear the small cries he was trying to hold back.

“We had the same thing for lunch, Jim. We split it,” she observed, letting him know his jig was up. She felt his head shake.

“Okay, then. It’s the stomach flu. Same thing, Jesus. Let it go,” he attempted to growl out but the intent wasn’t there. She held out the glass of water she had brought in and he was never more grateful for their twin telepathy ‘thing’. He managed to prop himself up and take a few slow sips. “Thank you,” he mumbled and handed the glass back to his sister, relishing the cool that washed down his throat.

Laying on his back he tried to stare ahead again, this time at the blank ceiling above him. He briefly thought about going outside to look up at the sky, but remembered that any sort of movement was practically impossible at the moment. His body ached as he had just run a marathon. Joints tight, frozen in place, he continued to lay on his back trying to regulate his breathing. 5 seconds in, 5 seconds out. He counted.

Medina continued to run her cool hands over his head and face. It only felt good because it was her. His other half, a strange extension of himself. Or probably he was the extension-Medina was already her own person. She didn’t need him anymore. His thoughts made him start rocking again, seeking any sort of primal comfort.

As if on cue, he felt the bed shift and she started to leave. Before she could, he managed to grab her wrist. “Don’t.” Only his lips moved. “Please.”

“I’ll be right back. I’m just getting more water,” she went to pull the blankets over him as the had shivers started despite his constant sweating. He nodded, content with her answer.

He thought that maybe he had finally started to drift off to sleep but was awakened by yelling. Sandy. At Medina, of course. Their shouts were muffled by the door and the fact that he couldn’t really think straight helped a bit, but his head still throbbed.

Sandy was going off about how Medina was always so judgemental towards her. Medina was snapping back with questions of why she wasn’t the ‘favorite’ twin. Sandy didn’t bother trying to hide it and plainly stated that she liked Jim better because he cared for her. Loved her. Medina started ranting about how this was just like last time. Last time, when things were Not Good. When Jim, the favorite, was Not Good. She suggested that maybe Sandy wasn’t that great of a mother if she didn’t love one of her children and couldn’t even manage to keep the one she liked from spiraling, practically killing himself.

Jim ground his teeth willing them to stop.

“This isn’t like last time for god’s sake,” Sandy screeched. “And it wasn’t my fault. Jim’s fine. Just like he was last time. It was a stupid mistake, once. He hasn’t touched that shit since, I’ll have you know,” she huffed. “Don’t make things worse than they are.”

Medina wasn’t about to out Jim. She was just trying to drop subtle enough hints that maybe Sandy would get the picture that things weren’t all that great.

Medina and Jim knew what was really going on in the other room. He was trying to detox from everything he had been taking in for the past few weeks. The two of them knew, and that’s the only thing that mattered.

Jim continued to hear them screaming from one thing to another. It was Sandy treating Jim like a husband, then it was how Phil was a bad father, then it was school, then Jim, then back to Phil, then Medina’s apathy, then back to Jim.

It always went back to Jim.

In a further attempt to block it out he rolled onto his side to his body’s dismay. Everything screamed in protest. When he opened his eyes he was greeted with the almost empty glass of water resting on the nightstand. His eyes narrowed in on the draw. Oh shit. Oh fuck.

To his horror and delight, he remembered the two small tablets he had pushed in the back of the drawer. For emergencies only, he told himself when he had placed them there. They went completely forgotten for so long he couldn’t even properly remember what they were. As if a puppet on a string, he propped himself up and opened the drawer, feeling the contents with long fingers. He felt the thin plastic and pulled the baggie out.

Directly depositing both of the pills on the back of his tongue, he used the last sip of water his sister had brought to swallow them. Shortly thereafter, he finally fell asleep.

Tags: @langdonsdemon @coloursunlimited @thecinderellaposts @michael-langdon-appreciation @langdonalien @tarkofetis @stupidocupido @katiekitty261

Special thanks to some ultimate babes: @michael-langdon-appreciation @thecinderellaposts @katiekitty261 You are all so amazing and keep me fed with only the best Jim content. Thank you <3 

[wesker20]

Fallen Hero 1.5 Episode 2: Three's a Crowd

You use your rockets as a boost to jump up into a roof and run, trying to get a visual on both your crew and Argent. Yes, you find them in the street. A huge crowd has already formed around the battle but still keeps a distance. You wonder how long it will be before the media arrives; or the cops.

Both Zaza and Pelayo are shooting Argent from a distance, Ward seems to be stalking her, perhaps to ambush her, and Nehal is shooting her with her shotgun. It doesn’t take long before Argent closes the distance on your youngest underling and punches her away with little effort. Nehal crashes against the wall right under you and you decide to finally join in and jump down, no way they’ll make it against her without you.

“I’m not here for you idiots. Where’s your boss?” you hear Argent say in a commanding tone. Just then Nehal notices you besides her and smiles.

“Yeah, you were saying bitch? You are fucked,” Nehal yells at Argent, catching the ranger’s attention and in turn alerting her of your presence.

“Finally, I was getting tired of dealing with the small fry,” she says looking straight at you.

“Who are you calling small-“ Nehal begins but you cut her off.

“Get out of here. I’ll handle her,” you say in your most commanding tone.

“What? But boss-“ Nehal begins but once again you cut her off, this time with a wave of your hand.

“I gave you an order. Get out of here. She’s mine,” you finish, leaving no room for argument. Nehal grudgingly nods and joins the others to escape.

“You are hard person to find,” Argent says with a smirk.

“What can I say, I’ve been busy,” you respond in a tone that conveys your own smirk.

“Too busy for little old me?” she says as the claws on her left hand extend.

“I’m making time now, aren’t I,” you say. When did Argent decided to banter with her enemy? She normally just goes straight to the point.

“That you are,” she says and with that she leaps in, fast, too fast, but not faster than you. You sidestep the claw attack and shoot a punch of your own but she evades it with little effort and changes her attack into a kick, one that you dodge as well.

You both take a step back, stopping any momentum you might have had. That was just a test, an assessment. You were trying to feel one another; and neither of you left a clue or a hint of what you can do.

“This should be fun,” you say while taking a stance.

“You said it,” Argent responds as the claws on her right hand extend and she takes her own stance.

Argent jumps in while you remain stationary. She throws a right; you dodge and shoot a right of your own. She dodges it and spins on one leg, preparing to use her other in a kick. You duck under the incoming kick and shoot a fist upwards. She leaps over you and lands behind. You waste no time and leap forward, knowing that another claw attack was coming. Failing that attack off balances her. You turn and use your rockets to barrel forward while she still off balance. However she recovers faster than you expected and prepares to meet you head on but you drop a smoke bomb blinding you both. Despite the blindness you know where she is, and so you tilt and fly past her and land several meters away. She turns around to face you with a hungry smile adorning her face.

Both of you stare at each other, daring the other to make the first move. A battle of wills, the first one to attack will dictate the pace of the fight, but the second can counter and turn the fight on their favor. Neither of you make a move, like two statues you remain motionless, your eyes clashing with hers, following one another. You pass dozens of scenarios through your mind, the Rat King helping you to process the information faster, but none lend themselves to complete victory, merely a small advantage that may or may not mean much. You wonder if she is going through the same thing, trying to figure out how to beat you without giving you an inch, it is clear you both are ready for the other. You both twitch at the same time and freeze again. Her smile grows as she eyes you up like a snake, waiting for the right moment. You would lie if you said you weren’t smiling yourself. Your heart pumps faster and faster, sweat slips down your forehead, your body threatens to lunge forward without your command.

You remember this feeling, the feeling of being in a tight spot with an enemy who is also on the same position. If one moves without being prepared the other will gut them. You have been there plenty of times. Like playing a mental version of chess, you each make a mental move to try and defeat the other. You have always relied on having a plan, and a backup, you hate it when things don’t go according to plan, and most of the time it leaves you frustrated. But then comes the exceptions, those few times where the feeling of being in this type of danger invigorates you, where you can really put your mind to the test and find out if you are smart as you think you are. This moment fits that perfectly. You are both hunters and preys, waiting for the other to make the wrong move; your eyes solely focused on her, and her eyes solely focused on you.

And soon you pay the price of getting caught up in the moment as you feel a big fist hit you square on the stomach. You catch a look of surprise from Argent before crashing against a car. You shake your head trying to piece together what just happened. Someone punched you, obviously, but it wasn’t Argent, if she had made any move you would have seen it coming. No this was someone else. Your eyes settle on that someone, standing in front of you and blocking your view of Argent, a figure panting and dressed in a red and white skintight suit. Oh goodie, it’s the polymorph girl.

“Ouch,” you say with sarcasm, if only to not let her know that that actually caught you off guard.

“Didn’t think you would get away that easily, did ya,” she says with barely held back rage. Her suit is roughed up and dirty in some places, but overall she looks no worse for wear. Glad to know that dropping a two story building on her did absolutely nothing. You are going to have a conversation with Mortum later about how to deal with polymorphs.

The girl turns to look at Argent and say “Hey there. Hope you don’t mind me tagging in,” she turns back to you and finishes with “I have a personal stake with this asshole.” Argent is just giving her a look that can only be interpreted as ‘what the hell do you think you are doing.’

“You know they say two’s a company and three’s a crowd. So why don’t you just step aside and let us adults talk,” you tell her as you flex your arms.

She opens her mouth to say something but Argent cuts her off. “He’s right,” she says and walks past the girl. “This is a dance of two, not three. So get lost.” The girl stares at her for a second before speaking.

“He killed a hero, my boyfriend,” she yells at Argent.

Argent ignores her and continues walking towards you. “Hey, stop ignoring me,” the girl yells, reaching out to Argent. Argent turns on her heel and stares at the girl in the eye. You have been on the receiving end of that stare before so you know how intimidating it is.

“Get lost. This is the big leagues. Your boyfriend should have thought about that before he fought,” she tells the girl and turns back to you.

“Don’t be so harsh on the kid. I’m pretty sure you were a rookie once too,” you tell Argent.

“Oh, so you are saying you are not a rookie either?” she answers as if catching you in the act.

Damn it. You just gave her a clue to your identity.

“I’m not stopping,” you hear the third unlikely member of your trio. And before you can say a retort your face is covered in its entirety and your hands are tied. You then hit the ground face first. “You’ll pay for what you did to Shine,” she whispers in your ear before lifting you up and tossing you against several cars. Pretty sure you catch flashes of cameras in the process. Seems like the media is here, and you are not looking good.

You stand up and say “Listen, I’m sorry about your boyfriend ok? He ambushed and I sort of overreacted,” but you are forced to dodge to the side as another fist comes flying down your way. You begin tuning the small taser weapon you used earlier, pushing it to its limit. You are pretty sure the weapon won’t survive this but you are running out of options. The girl shoots another punch, her arm extending almost ten meters. But just as the fist gets ready to land you notice it stops. When you look closer you see a silver hand wrapped around the wrist. Argent. The silver ranger looks at you first, “Don’t think this is for you,” she says before turning towards the girl. With little effort Argent pulls the arm violently causing the girl to be pulled and basically fly right into Argent’s fist. The girl flies and crashes on the street several meters away.

“You know that’s not going to do much right,” you tell Argent standing side by side with her. Big mistake, she does not miss a beat and punches you in the face, sending you flying and crashing against some cars. You groan as you stand up. “Cheap shot,” you say.

“Not my fault you let your guard down,” she responds.

You look at her and chuckle. “Look who’s talking.”

Argent does not get a chance to retort as the girl covers her face and ties her arms, much in the same way she did to you. And just like you early, Argent gets to kiss the ground. But just as the girl reforms in front of Argent you sneak in and grab her by the back of her neck with your right hand, electrocuting her. Her screams are ear piercing and you quickly toss her aside. Your right glove sparkles, an indication that the weapon is not doing good. You bring up your HUD and analyze the weapon. Not going to last more than two more shocks. Better make them count. The girl stands up holding the back of her neck. You notice a slight burn. Argent stands up and stares at the girl. You get ready to get punched again but it seems the silver lady has decided that a temporary truce is better. Still it does not hurt to ask. “Are you going to punch me again?”

“You are not going to make me say it,” she responds.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” you answer with a chuckle. “Truce?”

“Truce,” she answers with a sigh. One small victory for you. Let see if the rest of the night goes as such.

The girl stares at both of you with rage. You almost feel pity for her, losing her boyfriend and coming to fight you only to end up having to fight Lady Argent and you. But alas she should have understood how this life goes. You know you do. She extends her arms and legs and darts forward. Argent takes point while you hang back, making sure the girl does not pull any surprises. Argent does much better than you did against the girl, evading all of her attacks like a ballerina, twisting and turning on her heels, feet light on the ground. Never once does the girl come close to tying her up. At the same time the girl tries some back attacks but you stop her before she does anything, punching and kicking away and if she gets you, Argent pulls you away before anything happens. It’s a familiar feeling, having someone watching your back like that. You wonder for a second if that’s why you have a crew, why you try to keep them safe so much. Why did that feeling had to go… You shake your head, this is no time for pondering, you have a polymorph to beat. And later a lady of steel.

The girl launches herself at you again and manages to tie you up. But just then Argent grabs her and soon all three of you are in a tug of war. In the struggle your right hand comes free and you use that chance to shock the girl once more. She screams as her body goes back to normal. You make sure to shock her again even if it means destroying the taser. You want to make sure she stays down.

After a couple of seconds, the girl falls on all fours, panting. She looks up to you and tries to rush you again but Argent knocks her out with one final blow.

Immediately you leap back, creating some distance with Argent. It seems she had the same idea and both of you stand meters apart.

“Heh, ready for round two?” you ask with little care. You are tired but you’ll be damned if you let Argent see that.

“You know I am,” she answers with a smirk on her face.

Without any more talk you both take a stance, Argent bringing out her claws once again. Funny, she retracted her claws and fought the girl without them. Was it because she thought she didn’t need them or because she didn’t want to?

Then you hear the sirens and see the lights. You both groan at the interruption. “Well, that’s my cue.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Argent begins but by the time she finishes you leap up, turn on your rockets and land on one of the rooftops.

You look down on Argent, frustration written all over her face. “I’m sorry we couldn’t finish it. But hey there’s always a new day. Sayonara,” with that you drop a smoke bomb and escape, ready to head to your hideout and rest. You have a long day tomorrow.

[poeticsandaliens]

Hold My Beer

Pairing: Debbie Ocean/Lou Miller

Rating: Mature

Summary: The Life and Times of the Heist Wives family, chronicled by things attempted after speaking the timeless declaration, “hold my beer” or Five Times Lou Miller said “hold my beer” before doing something spectacular and stupid, and a couple times someone else did.

I owe this ficlet to a conversation I was having earlier with @smashingmagicklovely​ about

1. how I wanted a full compilation of everything Lou has ever done after saying "hold my beer"

2. How Lou is badass but Soft on the Inside and Debbie is a non-romantic smartass but Soft For Lou.

and 3. how "my womb says yes but my heart says no" essentially sums up my entire attitude toward writing Heist Wives domestic fluff.

This is the fruits of my labor. Thanks Em for drop kicking my muse at ten o'clock at night.

Tagging @casliyn, @louxdebbie, and @oceansnineball because I feel like Dani and Darcy became ‘a thing’ somewhere between the three of them and an onslaught of adorable Instagram AUs.

Lou sprawls across two separate bar stools in Nine Ball’s pub, watching Debbie beat herself at a game of pool. “I got good in prison,” she had explained the first time she creamed Nine Ball.

“You had a pool table in prison?” Nine Ball asks incredulously, blowing a cloud of smoke over the table.

Debbie shakes her head. “Nope. I had a pen and some paper, and once I finished the Greatest Heist of All Time I calculated the angle of every shot in a standard game of pool and invented new scenarios until I ran out of ink.”

Not for the first time tonight, Lou wonders how she got so lucky as to love a woman as clever as Debbie Ocean. She’s not stupid—Deb is lucky as Hell to have Lou covering her ass, but that’s the magic of it. They click like a hairpin and a padlock, picking their way through barriers and unhinging each other as they go.

Lou turns to Amita, who’s perched demurely beside her with a fucking spectacular cosmo. Lou knows—she made Nine Ball show her the recipe. “Hold my beer,” she instructs Amita, sliding it down the counter to her. She steps on her bar stool, swaying as it spins.

“Holy shit,” she hears Debbie murmur, looking up from her one-sided game. “Lou—”

Lou steps onto the bar and weaves through a line of empty drinks until she’s perched on the corner, in front of Debbie. She fishes through her pocket until she finds the ring. She drops to one knee, knocking over a half-empty margarita in the process. She can feel the tequila soaking into the knee of her jeans.

“Debbie Ocean, darling, m’love, my partner in crime, my favorite felon on the planet, I love you from the bottom of twisted criminal heart. Will you marry me?”

2. 

They host the wedding reception at Tammy’s, because unlike the warehouse, Tammy’s place has grass and trees and aesthetic value; no to mention it lacked the warehouse’s air of chaos. It also smells of hydrangeas, rather than takeout Chinese food and expensive perfume—which mattered, apparently. At least, Rose and Daphne seemed to think so, and by that point Debbie and Lou took the backseat in planning their own wedding ceremony. They were perfectly content to marry in a courthouse, surrounded by their friends, but apparently that lacked romantic oomph.

(For her part, Lou found the idea of eloping in secret very romantic, but she can’t deny the feel of grass under her bare feet and the tickle of a breeze through her cream-colored suit.)

Lou and Debbie wander from the small party as the sky darkens. Fireflies drift through their vision like tiny lanterns, and gypsy moths swim in their path, clumsily seeking the porch lights. They stroll hand in hand down Tammy’s endless driveway, buzzed on quality alcohol and the undeniable high of their own marriage. Lou lets her eyes wander down Debbie’s figure, striking in an royal blue dress that whispers sprite-like across her skin.

No white, she told Rose, to the designer’s loud protests.

White is the color of a wedding dress.

No, white is the color of ‘purity’ and has too many connotations attached. It’s not even about virginity—I’m a con artist, for fuck’s sake. You’re an amazing designer, and you have my full confidence, but it feels wrong for me to marry Lou in angel-white.

Lou stops before a shiny object on the ground; squinting in the vanishing daylight; she makes out the outline of a child’s Razor scooter. An idea crosses her mind, too quickly for her to refuse it.

“I know that look,” Debbie warns her, eyeing the scooter.

“Hold my beer, darling” Lou says, handing Debbie her drink—not a beer, in fact, but a flute of champagne—and flips the scooter onto its wheels.

“Lou this feel like a bad idea.”

“Nonsense.” She kicks off, barefoot in her wedding suit, and sails down the driveway. She’s done wheelies on her motorbike before; this has to be easier. She jumps once, twice, then lifts up the front tire—and topples over onto Tammy’s lawn in three awkward, lunging steps.

Debbie cackles. “Not quite a motorbike, is it Lou?”

3. 

They honeymoon on Daphne Kluger’s private beach, because of course Daphne Kluger owns a private beach, a tiny tropical place sprung from the Caribbean, half a mile long. Perhaps it’s excessive, extravagant, but they’re not complaining when Daphne offers to let them stay in a fucking gorgeous beach house and have the ocean to themselves for two weeks.

“We should crack open one of those coconuts.” Debbie gazes at a hunched palm, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her skin has warmed and bronzed; her mischievous grin is infectious. Lou can’t say no to those soft brown eyes.

“Want me to knock one down?”

Debbie smirks. “If you can,” pretending she doesn’t know Lou will take it as a dare.

Lou looks up at the palm tree, laden with four coconuts. It doesn’t seem particularly difficult to shimmy up, but the tangerine sunset and her fourth drink of the evening has her seeing the world through a pair of rose-tinted, how-hard-can-it-be glasses. She makes up her mind.

“Hold my beer.”

Lou squeezes the tree trunk between her thighs and begins to climb. The bark scrapes her skin; sure she’s only wearing a bikini and a breezy blouse, but the glint in Debbie’s eye promised a lusty reward for her efforts. She hangs from the top of the tree and kicks a coconut. The palm leaves catch her button-up and scratch along her exposed torso. Her efforts pay off—a massive coconut drops to the sand below with a decisive whack. Debbie whoops. Lou shimmies down the trunk and downs the rest of her drink.

When they relay the story at home, Daphne asks how the hell Lou managed to climb a palm tree in a bikini.

“Drunkenly,” she replies, “having forgotten what thigh chafing feels like.”

4.

A car revs outside the window. Lou looks up from the textbook length Swedish instruction set. “Fuck,” she mutters.

“This isn’t happening today,” says Nine Ball, gazing over the sea of bars and screws that could theoretically build a crib.

Lou groans and sips her beer. “Tammy you’ve built one of these. Help us out?”

Tammy shrugs. “They’ve changed the design since Alicia was born. Sorry.” But she’s made more progress than the rest of them, having managed to fit the bottom boards of the crib together into a solid surface.

“You’re a fence; I thought you knew how this shit worked.”

Tammy crossed her arms and got up from the floor, dusting off her jeans. “Yeah, I don’t build the things I fence.”

“Uh-huh,” says Nine Ball. “I always thought you’re one of those… DIY moms.”

“Only on occasion.”

The front door of the warehouse slams shut. “Where the hell is everyone?” Debbie’s voice echoes from the floor below them.

The group of them, somehow sweating and sore from failing to assemble the worlds’ shittiest IKEA crib, emerge from the room. Lou leans over the railing and smiles at her wife, who at six months pregnant (and beyond over it) has managed to carry four-and-a-half people’s worth of Chinese takeout in her arms while balancing an extra-large 7-11 lemonade between her chin and her baby bump and sucks nonchalantly on the bright red straw.

Sight for sore eyes, Lou thinks fondly, because she’s a fucking sap who loves this woman more every day.

She turns to Nine Ball. “Hold my beer,” and swings her leg over the railing. Nine Ball rolls her eyes as Lou slides down the spiral staircase at breakneck speed. She attempts to flourish as she rounds the final bend, but it quickly becomes an emergency crash landing, as she topples spectacularly onto the warehouse floor. With all the confidence of a clumsy woman who’s convinced the world she’s graceful, she dusts herself off and proceeds to trip over the couch, which has apparently moved three feet since last she saw it. She eats it again and finally stands to meet the half-amused eyes of Debbie Ocean.

In lieu of a greeting, she presses a kiss to Debbie’s lips, then to her neck, then to her belly for Creature (as they’ve insisted upon calling it, to everyone else’s chagrin) and then her lips again for good measure.

“I swear to God, Lou, if you die before this kid is born... ”

“Never,” Lou replies. Her hands curiously search Debbie’s midsection for a kick from Creature. “Just a couple of bruises. Although we might want to move the couch back to wherever it was.”

“No one moved it Lou. Your muscle memory isn’t worth shit.”

5.

Before Darcy is born, they take a vacation. Dani stays with Tammy—the “adult friend,” as Debbie so delicately put it when Constance asked why she couldn’t watch their child for a week. They rent a place along the Baja peninsula, a hidden coastal oasis to themselves, complete with a jacuzzi and an underground spring that bubbled into a natural pool. Overlooking the pool, to Debbie’s delight, a cliff perfect for high dives.

“How are you doing?” Debbie emerges from the house sporting a craft beer and an impressive sunburn.

Lou lifts her sunglasses. “Distracted,” she mutters.

“And how is Nessie doing?” Debbie asks, plopping onto the chaise. Her gaze softens, and pulls Lou into a warm kiss, slipping her hand under Lou’s green button-up to where their second daughter grew.

“Playing me like a fucking marimba,” Lou says softly, resting her hand over Debbie’s, over the taut skin of her belly. It’s funny, she can’t help thinking, the undisguised tenderness with which Debbie touches her. When Debbie was pregnant with Dani, she was all tough shell, and the entire nine months had been a stressful road littered with complications and doctor’s appointments and a couple close calls.

No way in Hell am I doing that again, Debbie swore, and quite understandably. Nope, no way, miracle my ass.

Well then I guess it’s my turn, Lou promised and kissed her against their creaking headboard.

Her turn—an unspeakably weird turn, she realized when first the alien creature moved inside her. Curious, the way it’s spoken on black and white British TV—curious. Weirder, perhaps, Lou woke one more to find Debbie softened like honey, curled around the new-to-them curve of her abdomen and smiling the sweetest thing she’d seen in months. Captivated the way she couldn’t be with Dani, and Lou in turn was bewildered by her.

“No shit,” Debbie whispers now, feeling Nessie (a nickname coined by Rose, of course) press against her hand. “You’re on vacation,” she mutters to the errant alien foot. “Relax.”

Lou tosses back her head and laughs. “Your voice only riles her up,” she says, shooing Debbie away with her hand.

“Her or you?” Debbie retorts, voice full of promise. So far, this vacation has rivaled their honeymoon in terms of good food and better sex.

“Both of us.” She pulls Debbie close and kisses her with fervor, pressing her thumb between Debbie’s thighs to elicit a rewarding groan. “God, you know how hot you are,” Debbie growls, her words slurring into something needy and near-impossible to resist. Debbie pinches the sensitive skin of her breast, and she’s wet already, God help her.

Debbie’s lips are running a full-on expedition of her body, tanned legs straddling her and her hand inside Debbie’s swimsuit, when few sharp sucker punches from the baby force her to break away. Debbie grumbles softly and runs her hand through Lou’s sun-bleached hair.

“More later,” Lou murmurs, low and husky, “when Loch Ness quiets down.” She’s gone on this woman, gone on Debbie Ocean forever. They’re conquering the goddamn world every second they spend in the same room. She doesn’t want Debbie more than three feet away, especially not now.

“Fine,” Debbie acquiesces. It’s playful, frustrated all the same. Debbie stands up at the promise of later. Then, her gaze fixes on the waterfall, and her eyes light up. “Hold my beer.” She shoves her drink into Lou’s hand and races to the pool.

“Fuck you, that’s my line!” Lou calls after her.

“Not anymore!” Debbie clambers up the slick rock, hauling herself onto the rock’s edge. She gets a running start, hurling herself into a front flip that from Lou’s vantage point is executed perfectly. Until it isn’t. Debbie hits the water in what can only be described as the most painful belly flop Lou has ever witnessed. She stands stone-still in the pool for a full minute before making her way to the edge.

“Are you alright, baby?” Lou shouts, half-teasing and half dead serious. Because when Debbie emerges from the water, she is the color of cheap boxed wine from her neck to her knees, pinching her stinging midsection with both hands.

“Fuck off,” Debbie mutters, but she’s chuckling through her pout, an indicator that she’s not severely injured herself.

Lou hands her back the bottle, cocking her eyebrow dangerously. “That’s what happens to people who laugh at me for getting stuck in the jacuzzi.”

6.

It is the twelfth anniversary of the Toussaint heist. Tammy, good friend that she is, offers to host the barbecue. She’s just purchased a backyard trampoline that has automatically made her the “most cool aunt” in the eyes of Dani and Darcy, and really, who can protest?

Debbie the grillmaster is flipping burgers, chatting with Daphne Kluger about her latest endeavor in directing, which is generating a fair amount of Oscar buzz. Amita and Constance are teaching Darcy how to steal jewelry off a person’s body without being caught, and what kind of hypocrite would Lou be o protest that it isn’t a useful life skill? Dani, predictably, has climbed onto the trampoline.

Lou’s heart swells as she watches her daughter bound across the elastic surface. “Hey,” she says to Rose, “hold my beer.”

She strides over to the trampoline and climbs on, shoes and all. She takes a couple steps onto the trampoline. “Hi Ma!” Dani cries enthusiastically.

“Hi Darling, are—” Her feet drop from under her. Apparently, the three-inch stiletto heels on her boots were less than ideal for a sheet of kevlar and rubber, because they’ve split two holes in the trampoline, and the woven strips of it are springing up everywhere, and Lou is flat on her ass beneath it.

Dani peers down at her, howling with laughter. “Ma you broke it!”

Lou scooches out from beneath the gaping hole, ass first, with the shreds of her grace and dignity.

7.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Darcy asks her older sister as Dani straps on her helmet and elbow pads.

“Great idea,” says Dani. She fixes her gaze on the massive pipe she’s rolled into the warehouse parking lot. On the other side of the pipe lies a ramp, and on the other side of that, a curb and chain-link fence she’ll just have to steer away from.

Dani mounts the skateboard and tests its wheels. Sturdy, smooth, waxed.

“You only finished it yesterday,” Darcy says skeptically.

“Yeah but it’s, like, the third prototype. This is the perfect board; trust me.” She’d snatched the old parts from junkyards and the back closets of skate shops and finagled them together into a board all her own.

“You have the camera rolling?” she asks, wiggling her board underfoot. Darcy nods.

“Great.” She quickly tames her hair into a top-knot and adjust the knee-pads on her torn jeans.

“Last chance to back down. If Ma sees you hit that ramp, she’ll read you the riot act,” Darcy warns her.

“Pssssh, have you seen the old photos of her on the motorbike? She used to take it to California and do some crazy shit out in the desert.”

“She still does. Doesn’t mean she’s okay with you hitting that ramp on your skateboard. Don’t be a jackass.”

Dani shrugs. “Takes one to know one, sis,” she says with a grin that her sister quickly returns. “Hold my beer.”

Her drink and camera safely in Darcy’s hands, Dani kicks off down the empty lot. She jumps into the pipe, listening to her wheels rumble on the plastic, then gives herself a boost before hitting the ramp. All of a sudden, she’s flying. It’s fucking fantastic. She flips the board once for good measure and lands beautifully, but before she can gloat the chain link fence is upon her.

Right. This is why you don’t put a ramp near a fence. She collides head on, and damn, she thinks, it’s a good thing this fence is pliable. It spits her back out like a catapult, and she lands on her ass on the concrete.

Darcy runs up to her. “Are you alright?” she repeats, taking Dani’s hand and helping her to her feet.

Dani nods shakily. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, that went great for the first trial. Did you catch me eating it on camera?”

[queen-in-shining-armour]

Everybody Scream

Hi. So this was intended to be a Happy Halloween story and thus posted in October, but I thought I lost it two years ago and only just found it again and like it’s not even June yet but here have a vaguely suspenseful scary story (i don’t watch horror movies so this is nothing like one)

WARNING, includes : screaming, blood, a knife, some bad advice and tense situations.

It’s 22:38 on a Tuesday night and for the umpteenth time since we moved into the apartment building, the neighbours are making noise.

Yet tonight’s disturbance is different.

A scream, more like a shriek in its high pitched tone, like those screams in the movies where a guy who boasts about his manly manliness gets caught yelling in soprano, a scream just like that jumps up through the floor and scares me shitless.

I should be used to the noises by now... Whether it’s spanish rock singing or loud conversations at two in the morning, this kind of... neighbourly presence was commonplace. It seems that the men living below often liked to yell and play pranks on each other.

But this scream resonates through my bones. I shudder, before shifting around on the rickety old sofa to get comfortable again. I continue to scroll down my dash, pretending that I wasn’t now painfully aware of every creak, every car, every gust of wind.

They’re stomping around now, the steps heavy enough that the sound rattles through the floor and makes my nerves jolt. Should I go look? We’ve never knocked on a neighbour’s door before, mainly because we’re all shy introverts in our flat and because we got the impression that the other residents were slightly... unsavoury characters to say the least.

A second shriek rings out, this time followed by a loud crash. I turn to my roommates’ doors to check if it woke them up. No lights, no texts. They must still be asleep. I really should see what is going on.

I put my computer down on the sofa next to me and look out anxiously into the night. I’ve never liked looking through windows at night. I always had that creeping feeling that something was going to jump out and scare me.

I get up and pad carefully to the balcony. If I look over the railing to the apartment below I might figure out what’s going on.

I had just got to the dark green railing and felt the cool painted metal beneath my fingers, when another blood curdling howl of fear was let loose.

I stumble back in a panic and swing around abruptly. While trying to get back inside I stub my toe on the door and end up sprawled over the table, hitting my hip bone. I slam the door shut and push a chair in front of it, as if it would help.

My breath comes out fast and shaky, my heart pounding nineteen to the dozen. What is going on down there?

I figure there must have been an accident, and against my better judgement I slip on my trainers and grab a jacket left on my bed. I should check it out. I leave a message on the group chat to quickly sum up the situation. 

Maybe I should take a weapon? I think back to all the conversations I’ve had with my roommates, where we would yell at the characters on our television screen for not doing the sensible thing. If this was a movie, what would people be screaming at me to do? Maybe they’d want me to call the police, but if there was trouble it needed to be sorted now. I didn’t see that there was time for that. Not that I would be able to describe something I hadn’t yet seen, anyway.

I search my desk for my swiss army knife. I would’ve preferred a bat or something similar, but I guess a knife would have to do. At least it was discreet.

I lock the apartment door behind me. I can be sure my roommates will be relatively safe.

The corridors are dark, and I leave them that way. Nobody else in the building seems to have reacted to the noise. Perhaps they assumed it was just another night of disturbance from apartment 15.

I get to the door and tentatively reach out towards the handle. The door opens. Their door must not shut properly, same as ours.

I slowly enter the home. Everything is quiet. I wouldn’t risk calling out. I’m not that stupid.

Ha, oh really? Entering an apartment in the dead of night after hearing someone scream, that isn’t stupid? Dead of night... I swallow sharply, that probably wasn’t the best choice of words.

I concentrate on my breathing for a few seconds and then tiptoe onwards. There is a weird smell saturating the rooms. I can’t tell what it is. I’m not sure that I want to.

Suddenly, I hear a shuffle to my right. My breath catches in my throat and I make an awkward gasping choke. There’s nothing there. I’m against the wall.

It’s about now, when I’m creeping into the main living room, that I realise that there are no lights switched on. In my fear, I’d not noticed that I was only guided by moonlight. Moonlight which was now being obscured by a cloud. I was definitely going to need light.

By this point, there had been no noises, except for the shuffle that I must have imagined, no voices, no movements, no... nothing. I decide that it is safe to turn on the light.

Big mistake.

Everywhere. It’s everywhere. I retch.

Everything is spinning. Out. I have to get out. Away.

Then I see it. It’s looking straight at me. Dark and dripping.

It’s coming. It’s coming for us all.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t run, or open my mouth.

                                           I couldn’t even scream

“Reports are coming in about the disappearance of three men in their mid-to-late thirties and a young girl of eighteen, who suddenly went missing from their apartment building two nights ago. The police aren’t disclosing any information as of yet, but residents are calling the incident  “unnatural”. The girl’s roommates revealed to us that she had heard noises in the apartment below and went to assist. The apartment itself has been closed off, but eye-witnesses have described the scene for us. The room is supposedly drowned in the blood of victims yet to be identified, although the amount of blood is definitely indicative of several adult victims. Our witnesses claim to have seen writing and handprints on the walls. Allegedly, the writing spells out “It’s coming” several times written using blood. Also found were some torn pieces of clothing, that the girl’s friends have identified as her jacket. No bodies were found at the scene and the police have announced that they are doing all they can to find out what happened. Stay tuned for more information, back to you in the studio.”

[aion-rsa]

Crash Bandicoot 4 Review: A Fun Blast from the Past

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After more than a decade since the last major Crash Bandicoot adventure, it is indeed “about time” for a sequel, and while Crash Bandicoot 4 successfully revives the spirit of the classic ‘90s trilogy, its best moments come from newly introduced gameplay mechanics. 

It’s About Time smartly ignores all of the questionable sequels since 1998’s Crash Bandicoot: Warped. After being trapped in a timeless prison at the end of the previous game, Uka Uka, Dr. Neo Cortex, and Dr. N. Tropy accidentally rip a hole in the fabric of space and time while trying to escape. The mad doctors realize they can escape to other dimensions and they unsurprisingly decide to take over the multiverse. The story has a very fun Saturday morning cartoon vibe to it, though the writing is surprisingly smart, with regular callbacks to previous games and a couple of jokes definitely targeted at adult fans.

This setup leads to the appearance of the four powerful Quantum Masks, each of which grants Crash special powers on his quest to save all of reality. With these masks, Crash can phase objects in and out of existence, change gravity, slow down time, or turn his usual spin into an endless tornado with a longer jump and near-invincibility.

Also along for the ride are several new playable characters. Every Crash Bandicoot level can also be played as his sister Coco, who has an identical move set. A version of Crash’s girlfriend Tawna from another dimension plays similarly to the bandicoot siblings, but also uses a grappling gun to reach far off areas. Rounding out the roster is reformed villain Dingodile, who uses a vacuum gun to suck up and fire explosive barrels and crates, and the evil Dr. Neo Cortex himself, who uses a ray gun to turn enemies into platforms to help him get around levels.

The additional characters, and the extra levels that go along with them, are nice, but don’t add much to the experience. Dr. Neo Cortex is a surprisingly boring playable character, while Dingodile is the best of the three thanks to his more unique move set. But I’m not exactly pining for a spin-off at this point. 

The Quantum Mask really remain the highlight here, though you can only use certain masks at specific points in each level to solve increasingly tricky platforming puzzles. While most levels usually just feature one Quantum Mask, you’ll have to quickly switch between them to tackle the game’s final and most difficult levels. Unlike some revivals of retro franchises that skimp on the difficulty, It’s About Time revels in its high difficulty, though that’s not always a good thing.

I welcome the challenge of a precise platformer, but too often Crash Bandicoot 4 relies on cheap trial-and-error gameplay. It’s one thing to mistime a jump. It’s another thing entirely to fall to your death because a newly introduced platform drops without warning or because you have no way of knowing ahead of time that there’s an acid-spitting enemy smackdab in your path. One of the biggest new additions here, crates that spit flames in all directions at regular intervals, seem designed just to increase the number of stupid deaths you’ll encounter. Sure, the older Crash Bandicoot games have always been known for their difficulty, but there’s a reason why platformers aren’t designed like this anymore: It’s simply not very fun. 

Release Date: Oct. 2, 2020 Platforms: PS4 (reviewed), XBO Developer: Toys for Bob Publisher: Activision Genre: Platformer

When you start Crash Bandicoot 4, you’ll have the option of choosing retro difficulty where you’ll have to restart each level after losing a certain number of lives, or modern difficulty, which just resets you to the last checkpoint, keeps tracks of your deaths in each level, and shows a marker where you’re going to land at the end of every jump. Don’t be a hero. Pick modern difficulty from the start. You’ll thank me later. I regularly hit 30-40 deaths my first time through each level, and it took me more than 170 tries to beat the maddeningly frustrating last level just before the final boss. 

To be sure, there are still a lot of enjoyable sections in Crash Bandicoot 4. The iconic chase sequences where you run toward the camera are as fun as ever. A trip to another planet later in the game features a ride on an alien creature through one of the most beautiful and exotic locales ever seen in a platformer. Another level features a very cool romp through a flying car traffic jam that feels straight out of The Fifth Element. But my enjoyment of It’s About Time dropped dramatically when the difficulty ratcheted up.

Oddly enough, bosses don’t actually provide much of a difficulty spike and are among some of the best levels in the game, with a pseudo rock concert fight against N. Gin and a multi-stage battle against N. Tropy requiring the use of all four Quantum Masks among the highlights. 

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While the main story mode is a relatively brisk eight hours or so, It’s About Time features a ridiculous amount of extra content for completionists and/or masochists. You’ll have to hunt down every crate and gem in the game to unlock the more than two dozen skins for Crash and Coco. VHS tapes, which also have to be tracked down, offer flashback levels that are even more difficult than the main campaign. And once you’re done with all that, every level also has an “N. Inverted mode,” which flips the layout, switches enemy placement, and alters the already fantastic graphics in unexpected new ways.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

It’s clear that developer Toys for Bob has a lot of love for Crash Bandicoot and wanted to make the best game in the series. In many ways, the team succeeded, with an absolutely massive platformer featuring some very cool new additions to the Crash formula, but the reliance on some of the series’ most dated design choices leads to an often frustrating experience. 

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