#newest addition to flop city

[lushpeonies]

She's Sun. The sun of the universe.

LOVE PATTRANITE LIMPATIYAKORN as SUN

23.5 องศาที่โลกเอียง (2024), eps. one to six

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi,

I saw you seen Poppy Playtime and Dogday is my favorite too. Can you write a scenario where Dogday lives and how he would help MC defeat the Prototype. Or how about if Mc met Dogday in Chapter 1 and he helps MC through the whole Playtime Co. building. I’ve seen some people put a Yandere twist on it maybe something like that?

-You couldn’t help but scowl deeply, starting the next generation, “Why did I come back to this place? Yeah, sure it was a creepy abandoned toy factory- that part is fine, but giant killer toys and a whole friggen underground city- hell to the no!!”

-Muttering to yourself as you used your Grab-Pack to pull something closer to you so you could get to the next area, you didn’t realize you were being listened to.

-You came across another one of those Smiling Critters cutouts, a bear this time and a chill went up your spine, feeling eyes on you, but when you looked around, nothing was there as you scowled, equipping your newest addition to your Grab-Pack, a flare gun!

-You looked down at it, looking a bit surprised before you tilted your head back, a deep sigh leaving you, “Why would I need a flare gun this deep under- HOLY BEANS!!” you pointed the flare at a tiny stuffed toy that was moving towards you, and the moment you hit it, it scrambled away, screaming as if it was in pain.

-Clutching your chest over your hammering heart, you tried to make sense of what you just saw before another one, this time of an elephant, came out and you shot at that one as well.

-Swallowing your fear you quickly moved, looking through the next area for what you needed.

-You weren’t expecting to find cages down here, “First a cult-like school with that scary-ass teacher, Catnap’s shrine to the Prototype- what next?”

-As if he was waiting for you to finish, a new voice spoke up, “You! You’re Poppy’s angel!” you leapt back in fear, slamming into a closed jail cell, panicking to hear another voice before your eyes went wide, seeing Dogday, or at least half of him.

-He looked like he was near death, his legs missing, his arms bound, keeping him pinned to the wall, looking like he had been tortured for who knows how long.

-You listened to him, as he explained what happened to him, how he was captured and how he was the last of the Smiling Critters, besides Catnap. You could see his eye lights shining, “Please- you must finish this- end his reign and- oh no- NO- you need to run! Get out of here!”

-You heard the scurrying of footsteps of those little critters, and you turned to run, before you froze, looking back at Dogday, he was a sitting duck- he wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

-Your Grab-Pack hands shot out, grabbing onto Dogday as he shouted, “What are you doing? Leave me- I’m not worth-” SNAP!! The binds holding him snapped from the wall and you hugged the much larger critter before you turned, “I decide who’s worthy of saving!”

-His arms were wrapped around you, holding on so you could focus on getting out of the area. He felt like crying- it had been so long since he cried- how many years had it been?

-You felt him squeezing you harder and you couldn’t help but smile softly as you quickly ran through a series of massive pipes until you came across a slide and quickly sat down before laying down, so he could fit as well.

-Once you landed safely on the other side, you were panting softly before you flopped back to your back, a deep sigh leaving your lips, “This place sucks.”

-Dogday slowly lifted himself up on his hands, seeing you there, you saved him? Why? He wasn’t worth it- he was broken, a hindrance to you, so why…

-Once you caught your breath you grabbed one of the belts around his wrists, removing it before you tied it around his waist, cinching him shut, “Sorry if it hurts Dogday, but this will have to do until I can get you out of here.”

-He didn’t complain, he was oddly silent, watching you take care of him before you removed the rest of the belts from his arms and fashioned a backpack type of sling, “Okay- let’s see how this is gonna work.”

-After a few minutes and after nearly falling on your face, you had Dogday strapped to your back, so he was looking behind you and you grinned, “Okay- let’s get back to Poppy and Kissy.”

-Dogday finally spoke, once you started walking, “Why- why did you save me?” he sounded like he was in shock or disbelief.

-You just beamed, tilting your head back into his, feeling his fuzzy head, “You’re one of the few who hasn’t tried to kill me- and I wasn’t going to just leave you there to get- to get whatever those little bastards would do to you.”

-Instantly he scolded you, “Language!” your laughter filled the halls, it was almost comical, being scolded for your foul mouth before you reached up with one of your hands, scratching at his head, “But yeah- I’m not leaving anyone behind who shouldn’t be.”

-His chest felt warm as he felt that strange feeling again, like he was crying, but there were no tears shed, as he felt overwhelmed with happiness, knowing that you had such a kind heart to save someone like him.

-He was going to do his best for you- you saved him so now he has to keep you safe- he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. He wasn’t going to allow it.

[daddysfangirls-dc]

UnTamed Ch.6

Prev | Next

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

Everything changes with time.

As did Astraea and Damian relationships at the ripe age of 14 and 15, both together and apart. 

Apart.

Damian had received more siblings, the newest addition being Signal and aka Duke Thoman, rounding up the official Wayne children to Seven: one daughter and six sons. Unoffically there were nine Wayne children, two more unofficial daughters which Mr.Wayne couldn't claim due to their parents still being alive and coherent/sane. But they were Mr. Wayne's daughters and Damian's siblings nonetheless. Damian's relationship with his siblings (mostly Tim) was tumultuous and unruly, but over time, they changed. He settled and started to love tolerate his siblings.

He also developed a friendship with a boy named John Kent. (His only friend besides Asta). Even with time, Damian still found relating to his peers difficult, but after acquiring John, he stopped trying to. Damian had grown; Damian had changed, but he was still the same.

Astraea was still on the streets, but that's because she wanted to be. Damian set up and gave her codes to a few safe houses that his family rarely, if ever, used. Which she, in turn, rarely used. The 'gang' she accidentally started was far more structured and efficient than before, networking in a way that helped the most people. Her group had become a well-known secret in the lower and poorer parts of Gotham and had even extended to the outside of the city. 

Despite her growing connections, Asta still held that Damian was her only friend, even if he was hesitant to claim her himself. Damian was still teaching her. She did well in math, history, and science but still struggled with reading and writing below her grade level; she was trying. Astraea had grown and changed, but like Damian, she was still the same.

-

Damian sighed as he flopped on the bed. Things at the manor had been tense and uncomfortable due to Batman digging into a human trafficking ring. Pair that with a shitty day at school. He didn't want to deal with anything or anyone.  One quick message to Alfred later, and he was cozying it up in one of his safe houses with no expectations of him until evening. He could do what he pleased by himself, and right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. Taking a quick shower, washing the day's disgust, he climbed right back in bed and away from the world just like he wanted.

-

Hours later, he woke up to Find Asta lying in bed eating grapes in the nude. Body-grown Asta was no longer the little girl, now growing into her more womanly curves.

Growing up within the League of Assassins led to Damian being taught differently. The League had different approaches to things. While joining his new family changed some views, others stayed the same. For example, nudity was common in the League and not something to be ashamed or disgusted by. He was made familiar with the male and female body at a very young age. And this upbringing did lead to Damian's comfort with Asta.

Asta was raised as and always nude for her abilities. She found it refreshing not having to cover up due to someone else's shame, disgust, and arousal. He was refreshing. And that's why moments like this could happen. Unlike the rest of the world, Damian could control himself and see her as just her.

"Hello," Asta says as she notices him awake and staring at her.

"What time is it?"

"6:36. You've got time" Damian sat up, giving a 'TT' as he checked his phone and found a slow of messages from his brother Dick and missed a call.  " I put it on silent. You looked like you needed sleep." He nodded in thanks. " What's got you more uptight than usual?"

"human trafficking"

"The homeless, right?" Damian wasn't surprised Asta knew she worked more closely with people than his family(those below the elite, that is). This often permitted her to receive information quicker than the bats and even get details they'll never know. Such knowledge was an asset that Damian used for his own cases but did not share with his family. He didn't want to. He was selfish.

Damian sighed and took the grapes she offered. " It's the new people. Those who've been on the street for a while and know the city know better."

"Do you know who these people are?"

"The victims are homeless from neighboring cities; apparently, they're cracking down on homelessness in a bad way. The bad guys, you know, those pop-up trail clinics, they run those or at least some of those. You can tell they're bad guys because of how clean they are."

It was saying something that cleanliness is what tipped off people to something suspicious. But then again, it wasn't because Gotham Rogues, like Scarecrow, did like to experiment with the public, and despite being evil, they did follow OSHA, surprisingly. Most Gotham villains did,actually, because most of them had PhDs and special degrees. Gotham's rogues were smart as they were fucked up. Most of them contained some form of sanity, even if it was small and only to certain areas. The only fully insane people in Gotham were joker and his goons.

"Real volunteer clinics smell like bleach and dish soap." the afford stuff " These ones smell like a hospital, an actual hospital. Our hospitals don't smell like a hospital unless you're on the rich floors; they smell of dry blood and drool."

"Drool?"

"Drool".

Damian doesn't really remember what the hospital smelt like, but he could agree the private rooms and areas smelt better than the lobby. 

"So, we need to pay attention to well-equipped and hygienic clinics in low places."

"Or you can let me and mine handle this and just rest. We're already working on it." She moved closer, leaning on him. " You need rest." closing his eyes, he leans into her. 

"What do you have so far?"

"What I just told you, and we've been tracking some people, keeping an eye on certain areas, and warning people. We believe whoever this is, they're experimenting on people. I don't know why yet. There is no difference in those missing. Everyone is a victim. We've been focusing on protecting the children first," he hummed as he lay, and she lay down next to him. "That's all I've got right now. I haven't spoken to my whispers yet. They probably have more. It's been a day or two since our last meeting."

Asta had a much bigger network of information as she had many connections on the streets. While people don't always understand the strange things they see and hear, they'll always talk. And that's what her group relies on.

" Let me play big hero tonight. You just worry about the muggers and thefts. I got it." Looking at her, Damian sees her and believes her; he has faith in her. 

"You'll tell me everything."

"Of course, I tell you everything," and she did.

-

True to her word, Robin didn't get to be involved with the case, focusing more on the current seen crime. Muggers, thugs, robbers, etc., were tonight's focus. Relatively, by vigilante standards, it was a calm night. Asta wasn't following him tonight. She had seen him off for patrol and then left for her own mightily activity. While Robin was grateful for the semi-calm patrol, he was also lonely. Not having Asta talk his ear off and having his brothers argue off and on in his ear wasn't the same. It was really annoying he was tempted to pull out his comm.

Normal families enjoy little reunions and get-togethers. Their family argued and solved murders but mostly argued recently. Nightwing needed to go home, Red Hood needed to stay in the crime alley, and Red Robin needed to dip off with whatever team he currently had, at least until everyone got their head out of their ass. 

"The lady said no," Robin said as he dropped into an alley between the lady and four thugs. Usually, the presence of Robin (especially this one) was enough to send the most simple-minded/commonly sensed criminals running.  These men appeared to be lacking common sense. Robin will blame it on drugs. The dilated pupils, runny nose, and excited behavior were obvious signs of cocaine use.

The one in the front seemed to be used the most. He seemed most excited to face Robin, bouncing on the ball of his feet and pulling out a switchblade. The three behind him seem to have more common sense or less drug use to hinder their common sense because they weren't as eager to face the most violent/sharpest Robin to date. 

Sniffling and rubbing roughly at his nose, " Take a look at his kid," he laughs.

The woman cowered against the fence as Robin pulled out his throwing blades. Before anyone could blink, Robin tossed his blade, cutting the frontman and making him drop his switchblade. Before reacting to his wound, he got two boots to the face. Using him as a springboard, he knees the next guy in the face, landing in a crouch; he comes up upper, cutting the third guy. All this happened in a minute three guys down and the fourth taking off. 

He wasn't worried about that guy. He was more hesitant than the others, and sober, he'd make better decisions after tonight.

Approaching the woman, he offers her a hand and comforts her the best way he knows: silence and gentle pats. He learned that patting from Nightwing. As the Police pulled up, Robin disappeared into the night, leaving them to handle the rest. 

A quick but satisfying save. The night continued as such, with two more attempted muggings, one store robbery, and a carjacking, as well as walking one young girl home. A relatively slow night on his part. Sitting on the roof, he was joined by a robin. He turned his comm off.

"Hello Astraea"

"Hello, Robin"

"How is the case proceeding?"

"I know that word. And we found a couple of clinics and some goons. Saved some people."  she said as she leaned on his back as he sat on the ledge. " The organization is a bit more than we thought."

"I can take the case back."

"No, it's fine. Just these.... the people they took- they're going to need a lot of help. I don't think Gotham can help them." 

"Probably not. If that is the case, they'll be moved to a place where people can." He could feel her frustration even if he wasn't looking at her. He could not provide any comfort. No matter the amount of help, these people would be damaged forever. They had been taken from rock bottom and dragged to the trench and had unspeakable things happen to them. There was no surely happy ending to this case. 

"we'll finish this. we'll finish this by the end of this week" 

"That fast?"

"That fast"

-

True to her word, Asta delivered all the necessary information to Robin before the end of the week. Robin himself chose to involve Red Robin, Red Hood, and last-minute NIghtwing, and unlike the team, maybe everyone had their purpose. Red Robin was to collect more information about the organization further, Nightwing was to comfort the victims, and Red Hood was to make sure that no one present would go unpunished if not by the law, then by him.  Red Hood was also present because many of the victims came from Crime Alley. He needed to avenge his people in some way. And he did.

-

"You did well tonight," Batman said as he and Robin stood on the roof of a neighbor's warehouse overlooking the police and emergency services as they cleaned up the aftermath of the raid. S.T.A.R. Labs had been called to help the people who were now presenting as Metahumans. Gotham would do its best to take care of them now, but as soon as they could, they'd be transferred to San Francisco and/or Metropolis to receive better and more appropriate care. " all of you did." 

Robin didn't pay attention to whatever nonsense Batman was spouting, everything but the words 'I'm proud.' He was watching below at those rescued, specifically a young boy. The boy looked no older than five. He had a fire blanket draped over his shoulder and thick padded gloves on his hands. He sat alone on the curb, a bit distant from everything, his only company being a black cat crawling all over him and rubbing itself into his stomach. She put a small smile on his face, and that was a kind thing to do at a time like this. 

Suddenly, the cat stopped and looked up, looking at him. The boy did the same thing, his smile becoming bigger as he spotted Robin looking down on him. Robin waved at him, he could hear the precious child's giggle from the rooftop. The small accomplishment had him receiving a nod in thanks from the cat in the boy's lap. Now, that had him fighting his own smile.

"Robin," the smile won, "it's time to go."

"yes, father."

[sunner24]

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[duckugou]

roommate ch 3

Denki x fem reader

aged up

Ive decided to make this a full on series! Not sure how long itll be but hey its somethin!

come to my asks to be a part of my taglist! just let me know what kinds of fics/ what fandom/ what characters/ etc you want to be tagged in!

Requests are open!!

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After Denki ordered some pizza, there was a knock on the door.

"No way the pizza is that fast!" He said, hopping up to get to the door.

"Oh! It's Kiri! Hey man I thought you were the pizza guy!" He gestured for Kirishima to come in.

"Oh shit, youre getting pizza? I'm staying hope you dont mind- oh heres the air mattress by the way." Kirishima said, shuffling into the apartment where the living room was a comfy cozy space with the newest addition sat on the couch.

"He JUST got off the phone with the pizza place- there was no physical way they got it done that fast." Y/n giggled, scooting down the couch to give the two men a space to sit.

"Oh hey! Im Ejiro Kirishima! You can call me Kirishima or Kiri- whatever floats your boat!" He introduced himself, taking a seat on the farther end of the couch.

"Im Y/n! It's really nice to meet you- and thank you for bringing the air mattress down for me to sleep on. I cannot believe it's the one thing I didn't think about."

"It is so funny that you still think youre sleeping on it. Got a few screws loose in that pretty head or what?" Denki asked, flopping himself between the two, poking Y/n's forehead.

Swatting his hand away, Y/n scoffed. "We'll see moron."

"You guys seem close already! That's so awesome- I know Denks was scared of some killer coming to live in the apartment with him." Kirishima chimed in.

"Hey you never know. I could still end up being a killer." Y/n said, pointing at the two boys. "Watch out!"

"Great now I'm gonna be nervous FOREVER." Denki threw his hands in the air, earning a laugh from his two friends.

"Okay so what movie are we gonna watch- or should I challenge you guys to a Mario Party battle?" Kirishima suggested.

"Ah, man. I say we watch a movie- I'm not trying to look like a loser already in front of her." Denki said, knowing he sucked at Mario Party, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh! Lets watch a classic movie!" Y/n squealed.

"Like how classic are we talking? Black and white or-" Denki was interrupted.

"TALLADEGA NIGHTS!" Y/n shouted.

"What?!" The two boys were obviously, painfully unfamiliar with the movie.

"Ricky mother fuckin BOBBY?! Ok yeah we're watching it- uncultured asses-" Y/n muttered before being smacked in the face with a pillow by Denki.

"Shut up and put it on, fucker."

Shortly after the movie started and had everyone sucked in, the pizza arrived- Y/n of course got it so the boys didn't miss any of the movie.

- - - -

Once the movie ended, Y/n listened to the boys chuckle about their favorite lines and took the plates to the kitchen.

Walking back out to the living room, Y/n started to feel chilly.

Sitting on the couch, she subconsciously sat pretty close to Denki to soak up some of his body heat, Denki of course not minding.

"So youre uh, youre from New York right Y/n?" Kirishima asked, a few fleeting laughs dying down between the two boys.

"Yeah but not the New York City youre thinking of. The upstate part of New York that has cows and hills and activities like mudding." Y/n informed them.

"Mudding?" The two boys asked in sync.

"They take their big ol' trucks and literally just...drive through a ton of mud and shit. It's never been my things but-" Y/n began.

"Kinda sounds fun honestly, getting tossed around the truck would hurt though right?" Kirishima asked, rubbing his head as if he were tossed around a truck himself.

"I'm sure!" Y/n giggled.

"So what brings you all the way over here?" Kiri continued to quiz the girl.

"Honestly I've always loved it here. Before I could visit, I was always looking at different things about Japan on the internet. But I moved because I wanted to explore and live my life outside of bumfuck New York, ya know?" Y/n explained.

"Bumfuck New York." Denki chuckled.

"Fuck off- if you went there you would totally understand my reasoning." Y/n laughed, swatting his arm.

Looking over at the time, Kirishima stood up from the couch. "WELL. On that note- I gotta get to bed. I am BEAT. It was so nice to meet you, Y/n. I'll see ya around! Oh and Denki- dont break the air mattress." Kiri mentioned, putting his shoes back on.

"It was nice to meet you too! Thank you for the mattress!" Y/n waved as Kirishima left the apartment.

"Okay okay- go make yourself comfy in my bed and I'll blow this thing up-" Denki started, dumped the mattress and pump out of its bag.

"No, I got it-" Y/n began.

"No- GO TO BED." Denki started pushing Y/n towards the bedroom that was his.

"NO YOU GO TO BED ILL HANDLE THIS." Y/n said, pushing back.

"God damn it- you can WATCH while I do it and then go to bed." Denki settled, not being able to keep his hands on y/n any more, feeling like he would explode if her hands stayed on his shoulders any longer.

"Fine." Y/n flopped on the couch, watching Denki start to look at the pump and look for the hole in the mattress.

"...You need some help?" Y/n giggled after watching him struggle for a it.

"OKAY YEAH fine fine come help!" Denki whined, admitting defeat.

-----------

ahhh! What suggestions do yall have for the direction of this story? I promise it'll be more interesting once i get past the introduction part of the story LMAOOOOO ily

[cloudstarcats]

Icarus (And in the End)

There is a cliff Roman visits when he needs stillness. It is a cliff where he goes to try and grow. Where he tried to achieve more. where he changes where he decides, "Does Thomas still need me?"

Fandom: Sanders sides Ao3 link

Warnings: Roman angst, negative self talk, things get sad

(Inspired heavily by the song "Icarus" by Bastille. I recommend you listen to it before reading)

In the Imagination, there is a cliff. The cliff stands above an ocean, and from it, you can see the entire imagination.

Roman’s castle, his small towns, the hut and cave of the Dragon-Witch, the cove of shells made when Thomas watched Ariel- where an underwater kingdom would come up to talk and trade and live with a seaside village, a city of bird people, an elf outcropping.

You could see Remus’s tower, his kingdom of orcs and people whose eyes glowed red, blue, rainbow, whose sky was changing constantly, the cities of plague, the train station and industrial district of Hades town, the salon filled with men and women Roman swore were succubuses, his grotto of poison plants and sunlight, the Naga cave for Janus, the graveyard for halloween, and days on.

You could see the borderlands, the large castle in the center that housed two flags- a green flag that looked torn apart by war and a red flag that always looked pristine, almost metallic. The city that spanned below it, the crest on the gates that faced the Cliff- a shield with a sword facing point to the ground behind it, a castle of three turrets and a large tower in the shield’s design, a crown holding the shield and sword and all of it together.

Roman loved the cliff. Loved the fresh air, loved watching the world from here- because it didn’t feel like he was watching it from the eyes of a god, a creator, as one would assume from the height advantage. He felt… small. Small and real and distanced in the land he and his brother made. He loved watching the merfolk in the coves, the Kraken playing with the smaller mers, the pirate ships that docked and invaded and traded, the bustle so quiet and muted. He loved the sun shining against him, loved the rain when it poured or drizzled, the sunsets, the sunrises, the twilights and magic hours and golden hours and everything in between.

The cliff is the place he went for stillness, for quiet, for when he couldn’t name the feelings in his chest, for when he didn’t know what to do. It was the place he went to grow, the place he went to achieve more, the place he changed at. It was the place he went when he and Remus had split. It was the place he went after Thomas was heartbroken, before Patton came to comfort him.

So after the newest episode, after he had apologised to Janus and left before receiving a reply, after he had walked for what felt like hours and nothing at the same time, he stood at the cliff.

When he and Remus were young, they gave themselves many different things. Additions, traits, dyed hair and colored eyes, in the Imagination anything was possible. Remus had liked the red eyes he already had, and so he let them shine the color of blood, much to Roman’s amusement when they started to actually bleed- which his twin fixed right away.  Roman had green eyes and he kept them, but he made them more vibrant- to match Remus’ new costume.

“What next?” Remus asked, hanging from their wardrobe by his knees, in the bedroom that once held a large bed and now held two bunk beds. He tilted his head and Roman shrugged, huffing out a breath.

“I don’t know! Ughhhh this is so annoying~!” Roman whined, flopping down into a pile of plushies they’d both added to, groaning. Remus watched him and giggled, then his eyes brightened and he squeaked.

He dropped off the wardrobe and jumped on Roman, making him let out a muffled “oof-”. “I know! Wings! And tentacles and hands and everything we could put on our backs!” The older creativity grinned, eyes shining.

Roman pushed Remus off him and rolled over to look at him. “Tentacles?” he asked, and Remus nodded, eyes sparkling as he nodded up and down. “Yeah! Like a Kraken! Can we make a Kraken?”

Roman shrugged. “I guess, I mean the lake is empty..” he mumbled. He glanced at the glass door that led to a balcony. “You could make it an ocean- it would fit better,” he suggested.

Remus nodded and waved his hand.  “Yeah yeah, I can do that later-” he waved, standing up and walking to the large mirror on the wall, twirling around and eyeing his back- wearing a black shirt with puffy sleeves and silver accents and a green sash tied into a bow at the back- a mirror image of Roman’s version in white, gold, and red- only Roman’s sash wasn’t tied in a bow and he didn't have puffy sleeves like Remus.

“Right now- I wanna have tentacles!” he grinned and snapped his fingers. Eight green tentacles appeared on his back, shiny and an emerald green- flecked with gold, matching Roman’s eyes.

Roman gazed at them, eyes wide. “Woah… bro they look perfect!” he grinned, popping up to poke them. “Woah! They’re squishy! But not slimy..?”

“Should they be?” Remus asked, and Roman shrugged. “In that case- I think I’ll make them slimy later, it’s your turn now!” he smiled at Roman and spun around to look at his brother.

Roman blinked and shrugged, looking down. “Oh uh… I don’t think tentacles would look so good on me,” he sighed. Remus tilted his head as Roman thought a bit, and looked outside at the lake- soon to be ocean- and saw a flock of birds.

“Do wings!” he exclaimed, and Roman looked back up, Remus smiling widely at him. “Bird wings! You’ll look like an angel!”

“But I don’t want white wings!” Roman whined, pouting. “They're not… enough. I want them to be eye catching and shiny and cool like your tentacles!” he explained, and Remus hummed, plopping down to sit on the floor.

“What if they were… gold?” Remus asked, tilting his head to the side. Roman paused and thought a moment before nodding.

“You're smart, Re-Re,” he hummed, looking at him with a smile, and he snapped his fingers. A pair of golden wings appeared on his back, feathers soft to the touch, but still sleek and shiny metallic.

“Woah! They're so shiny!” Remus breathed, eyes sparkling as he got up to touch the feathers, running a hand through the feathers with a rather gentle touch. He grinned wider and Roman giggled at the contact.

“Ah! They’re ticklish, Re!” he whined, and his brother’s grin morphed into one of delight.

“They are?” he asked, and Roman backed away, laughing as Remus crept towards his twin, eyes sparkling as his hands and tentacles raised. “So if I-”

“Remus~!” Roman screamed and laughed, running away to avoid his twin as they two ran around the room- Remus trying to catch and tickle his brother while Roman laughed and stumbled around with his wings, attempting escape. The two didn’t stop laughing for hours, and Roman was caught. By sundown, both had fallen asleep in Remus’ top bunk, a pile of limbs and tentacles, two golden wings draped over them both like blankets as they slept.

Roman gazed at the ocean, the view beyond, thinking of that day. He shifted his wings, the same gold of years passed. Pristine, shiny, regal like a statue- a prince.

“You’re my Hero.”

He ignored the tears gathering in his eyes.

“Thank god you don’t have a mustache Roman, otherwise, I wouldn’t know who the evil twin was!”

The princely figure swallowed, he could hear the others calling at him, yelling for him to come down, but he steeled himself and looked past and up to the sky, at the sun. A breeze rustled his feathers, missing his hair. As it left he exhaled slowly, eyes closing for a moment as a tear tracked down his face, dropping to the ground quietly.

He would do this. For Thomas. Always for Thomas.

On the ground, the group watched Roman spread his wings, the gold of his feathers reflecting the sunlight around him, making him look like a shining statue, too incredible to be real.

“Roman! Stop-!” Virgil screamed, eyes widening as he saw what was to happen before the others, and he started to run, as if that could stop the inevitable.

It did not stop a single thing. Roman jumped off, ignoring the screams, the only noise was the wind in his ears, his wings beating as he flew. The sun shone on his face and he reached out, wings gliding across the air, the wind rushing in his hair and through every feather, and for a moment it was good. For a single, perfect moment where Virgil’s lungs couldn’t dare let out a scream, where Patton’s eyes gazed upon Roman’s face, heart stopping, where Logan could see the yearning shining in Roman’s eyes, even from a distance, it was good. In the mindscape Janus could feel a stillness, and he paused, turning his head, a tug in his chest, and Remus paused what he was doing in the living room.

“Remus..?” Janus asked, seeing the other side pause, the crazed look dying in his eyes like a fire burning out.

“...something is wrong,” he said softly, in a tone that scared Janus- because it was soft, scared, wounded, dead. He looked up and his morning star fell to the floor- a soft thump, no explosion, no nothing- and he swallowed. “I.. I can feel it. In my chest,” he whispered, hand rising to grip at his top- and he looked away. “Roman.”

Janus felt his heart stop. “Roman…?” The ego. The thing Janus meant to protect. He could feel it curl in his chest, like vines growing around his lung, not invading them, but a presence- a weight where there was none before.

The two sank out and went to the imagination quickly, leaving an empty living room with a morningstar lying on the carpet, an unnatural stillness filling the air.

~~~

It was a small stutter. An inability to go on. An insecurity.

As he drew closer to the sky- to the shining sun- his wings failed. Stuttering to a stop, frozen in time like something had hit them, he was struck from the sky. His lips parted and he stared up at the sun as he fell towards the ocean under him, feeling his tears leave his eyes. He closed his eyes, smiling weakly at the sky before he plunged into the sea back first- Virgil's strangled scream following.

“No! Roman-!” He screamed, pushed to a sprinting pace as he raced to the cliff’s edge, tugging his jacket off before he dove into the sea below.

“Virgil-!” Patton screamed- following the other and reaching out for him, but Logan pulled him back  and into his chest, feeling Patton breakdown against him, his shaking sobs rough against his chest. Logan only stared, rubbing Patton’s back, the cold tears trailing down his face unfelt- he was numb.

In the water, Virgil swam down, trying to catch up to Roman’s rapidly sinking form. When he first dived in he was scared he’d miss the prince’s form, that Roman would sink to the bottom and Virgil would fail. He realised, as he swam down, this would not be the case.

Roman was too bright, too magical, to ignore as he sank down. The sunlight filtering through the darkening abyss below them caught on his wings, reflecting golden sunlight that swam across his face and made the water glow around him- as if he radiated pure gold and sunlight. His wings cupped him, his hair framing his face and floating across his skin, nearly covering his closed eyes. His lips were parted, and Virgil could see the last bubbles of the air that followed him as he fell down slip away- just as a bubble of air left Roman’s lips.

Virgil’s heart raced and he kicked harder, hand reaching out for Roman’s form like Roman’s had reached for the sun only moments ago, unable to entertain the idea, the mere thought, of Roman dying here. Not now, not ever, he couldn't allow this, he couldn't allow Roman’s grave to be here, his death, his early death- he couldn't.

Virgil reached, desperate, tears disappearing in the water surrounding them. He wouldn’t allow it.

In Roman’s mind, he remembered when Remus left him. He remembered when he didn’t speak to him, when he ignored him and glared. Remembered how he said he hated Roman, how he shoved him away when he got closer, when he tried to talk to him. How he was crying but he left anyway. How he left Roman alone in their childhood room, a room meant for the two of them, his gold wings dull and eyes filling with tears as he gripped a paper in his clenched fist. Remembered looking at the drawing he’d made for Remus, and later going to the side of the mind Remus claimed, scared and alone, and slipping the drawing carefully under the door of a tower that loomed above him like a warning to stay away.

Roman remembered leaving this morning, remembered the odd looks at him in nothing but his usual attire, no sword, when he told them how he was going on an adventure. Remembered Patton’s worry over his lack of equipment- but he didn't need it where he was going. Even when he said that, Patton’s face did not relax, and Logan’s brows knit together as he attempted to understand where Roman meant to go. Remembered leaving the room and sighing softly, pulling out a letter he then slipped under the door. Remembered waiting, why did he wait, till someone took it and he heard the paper be unfolded before he left, turning his back, wings fading into existence.

Logan led Patton to the shoreline, the beach, for stability. Logically- the only way he could think, his emotions overwhelmed and not yet processing; logically he knew when Virgil came up, he had to, he had to, that he would swim to the beach.

In the water, a hand grasped Romans shirt. On land, eyes watched the water, and two minds let themselves hope.

Quiet filled the world for a moment, only the sounds of the shore and the stillness of the air and Patton’s soft cries could be heard. That was before Virgil burst out of the water, a loud crash and a gasp, dragging up with him a familiar head of brown hair and two limp, golden wings, trailing behind and filling the water with sunlight that didn’t belong.

~~~

Virgil swam towards shore, dragging Roman’s limp form with him. The prince’s lips were tinted blue and his skin was pale, a faint bluish purple tone to his fingers. Virgil kicked harder, gasping for air with the effort of dragging them both to shore from the cold waters. His legs burned, like his lungs, holding his breath so long had hurt more than he expected.

As he got closer to shore, Remus and Janus appeared from the woods nearby. Remus ran into the water, meeting Virgil halfway as he helped the other drag Roman’s unconscious form to shore. They pulled him up enough that the water only just touched his feet on the bigger waves, spreading him out so his wings had room; they dripped water and the gold was dull, no longer reflecting the sunlight as brightly as it did below the waves.

Patton and Logan stumbled over with help from Janus, whose face was ashen and eyes just a bit wider than normal. Patton kneeled besides Roman, holding his hand, Logan next to him, eyes still wide and almost unseeing, a hand on Patton’s shoulder as the moral side cried softly.

Remus moved to hold Roman’s head in his lap, eyes wide as he stared at the other- his unnatural silence disturbing and heartbreaking. He didn’t tear his eyes away, tears beginning to form in his eyes. Remus never cried, they would realise later. Then again… Roman had never looked so dead before.

Virgil looked at Roman’s limp form, face screwing up in anger and sadness. Hot, angry tears filled his eyes and he took a shaky breath. He gripped the fabric of his shirt, swallowing thickly.

Janus looked to him and bit his lips, eyes troubled and brows furrowed. “Virgil..” he said quietly, but the other cut him off.

“No,” he hissed. Virgil took a shaky breath. “Wake up, you idiot!” he snapped at Roman, glaring at the prince’s form. “Wake up you dumb, stupid, annoyingly sing-y idiot-” with every word he moved to hit Roman’s chest with the side of his first, but the actions were desprate and not meant to hurt like an attack, “-Wake up!” he sobbed, anger fading to show sorrow.

Janus reached out to touch Virgil’s shoulder as the anxious side cried, but Virgil slapped his hand away, eyes wide and red, his eyeshadow trailing down with his tears. Janus drew back and watched Virgil stand up and walk to a tree, shaking. The anxious side screamed and punched the tree, making Patton and Janus  flinch in sync at the loud thuds that followed.

Remus gazed down at Roman and bit his lips. “...Wake up,” he whispered, voice fragile, unheard by the rest of their small family. “...I can’t… I can’t lose you..” he said quietly, tears starting to roll down his cheeks as he bowed his head more, closing his eyes as sobs began to build in his chest.

Then Roman moved. His chest convulsed and he coughed, and Remus’s eyes shot open to see his brother struggling to expel the water filling his lungs. Remus quickly helped Roman to roll over, and Patton let go of Roman’s hands as he turned. The prince coughed out the water, left panting as Remus carefully rolled him back to his original position, eyes wide. Virgil had heard the coughing and rushed over, kneeling besides Roman again with wide eyes.

Remus bit his lips. “Ro-Ro?” he asked softly, and Roman looked up to his twin, vision swimming and fading at the edges.

“..Re…?” he mumbled, voice raspy.

Remus smiled a little and nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He sniffled a bit and drew Roman up, hugging him tightly. “Don’t do that again, you idiot,” He whispered, closing his eyes.

Roman nodded a little, and slowly managed to wrap his arms around Remus, wings curling around the other weakly. Patton moved closer and gently hugged the two twins, and Roman looked up, brows furrowing.

“Pat..” he whispered, and the moral side smiled sadly, nodding.

“I’m here kiddo,” he whispered. “We all are,” he murmured with a gentle smile, reaching out and petting Roman’s hair, watching with a gentle smile as he melted, nuzzling into the hold.

Logan came up and hugged Roman as well, Virgil and Janus following, till Roman was wrapped in the warmth of everyone’s arms. The Prince sniffled softly, and he closed his eyes, relaxing. Feeling safe, Roman let himself fall into unconsciousness, secure in the thought that he was safe with his family.

~~~

When the group did return home to the mindscape, it was quiet. Remus took care to hold his twin, whose wings were wrapped around the other carefully, and Remus didn't complain despite the wetness of his twin. Patton held Virgil’s jacket, walking with the anxious side as he took care to check on his hands, which were bleeding. Janus and Logan walked together, both quiet, keeping an eye on the group. Janus would glance at Logan, and his eyes never lost their worried look despite the fact Roman was no longer sinking and instead in the arms of his brother.

Patton and Remus helped to get Roman cleaned off and into warm clothes. The prince didn’t wake up as they worked, and Remus carried him to bed, curling up with his twin. Patton got a few blankets, and watched Remus start to card his finger’s through Roman’s feathers, grooming the golden wings.

As the two took care of Roman, Logan went to make them all some food, soup, while Janus helped to bandage Virgil’s hands. Virgil was quiet and didn’t speak at all, and the mood was morse. When the food was done, the three joined Patton and Remus in Roman’s room to eat.

As they ate, they talked. Remus told them about what happened when he and Roman stopped being close. Patton confided that he felt horrible for the split. Virgil murmured about his suspicions of Roman’s struggle. Janus talked about what might have caused their issues. Logan worked through a list of what they could do. At the end, they decided to set up a schedule to watch the Prince and make sure he recovered, and none of them felt comfortable not watching over Roman. The prince was weak, and at best they could all assume that whatever had happened had exhausted him, and he’d be sleeping for a while. So they started their daily rotations.

Every few hours and every night it was someone new. When Logan sat with Roman, he would read poetry to him in a quiet voice, calm. Other times, he would sit there quietly and hold his hand, tears slowly working their way down his face. Whoever switched with him wouldn’t bring it up, but when he returned to the common room, Virgil would hold out an arm and let Logan curl up next to him, and put on a documentary about the coral reef. Usually, Patton was next to check on Roman, and would spend his time reading books, talking about cooking, baking, telling dad jokes to a quiet room. Sometimes he would trail off and crawl next to Roman, petting his wings and holding his hand. Sometimes he fell asleep like that. When it was his turn to switch, he’d be woken up and would go back to the kitchen, quiet. Logan usually helped him bake, and Remus would help make Patton smile again.

Virgil usually went next, and he’d mostly spend his time sitting on the bed or the desk, listening to music. Even if he looked relaxed, his posture was just a bit tense. He never closed his eyes too long, and every so often he’d check Roman was breathing. When it was his time to switch, he’d leave the room and go to the couch to put the documentary back on. Janus followed next, and he was quiet as he sat with Roman, for ten minutes at least. Then he would talk, talk about the sky, tell small stories of dumb lies, talk about how sorry he was for what he said, how sorry he was to mislead Roman, how sorry he was he failed- for not doing his job and protecting Roman. Sometimes he wouldn’t even sit by him, he’d curl up next to him into his side and warmth, falling asleep.

Remus was last, and he always spent the night. He would curl up next to him and let his tentacles curl around Roman, he would groom his feathers and mess with his hair. He would talk about the day, talk about the ideas that came to mind, talk and talk till he fell asleep curled around his brother.

Recovery was… slow. It took a couple of days, days filled with worry and a house that was just too quiet, too still. The morning that Remus woke up to see Roman’s green eyes staring back at his was the day things began to get better.

That was the day Roman was basically attached to Remu’s side, wings curled around the other as he was carried around from his room to the commons for some food and cuddles. That was the day Roman and Janus apologised, and Janus promised that when he nodded, he was confirming that yes, Roman was Thomas’s hero, no matter what. That was the day Roman let the others pet his wings as he cuddled Remus, who was warm like a furnace in comparison to Roman’s slight natural chill, and melted at the contact he’d avoided for ages. That was the day that Roman was reminded he was loved.

The day after was the day Remus and Roman moved back to sharing a room, the day Remus teased Roman and they ended up running around to the others amusement, laughing and hiding and ending up on the top bunk, Roman laughing as Remus tickled him till they both fell asleep for a midday nap. That was the day Patton and Roman made dinner later that night, and they all curled up on the couch for a documentary, and Roman went to bed feeling loved.

The day after, Roman and Janus talked wing and scale care, and Roman felt loved. The day after, Logan and Roman discussed Roman’s wings as well, and Logan asked if he could fly high enough to see the stars, so they did, and Roman felt loved. The day after, Virgil, Roman, Remus, and Janus spent a day doing face masks and their nails and telling spooky stories before they fell asleep in a pile of pillow, blankets, and golden wings; and Roman felt loved. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the days that followed- Roman felt loved.

And yes, they argued, they fought, they had bad days. There were days Roman and Remus couldn’t stand each other, days Janus pushed a button, days Logan and Roman got in furious debates and screamed till their throats hurt, days Virgil would glare and hiss and Patton wouldn’t know an answer and they would all fight, days everything felt awful and bad and Roman wondered if they still loved him.

But even on those days Remus would slide into Roman’s bottom bunk and they’d cuddle all night, Janus an Roman would talk and have self-care spa days, Logan and Roman would spend hours writing poetry and finalizing stories, Virgil and Roman would talk about Disney movies and criticize the classics in their onesies, Patton would make cookies and talk to Roman and they would sit and cuddle. Despite everything, they would always remind Roman they loved him, and in turn he would as well.

And in the end, recovery took a while. Roman would have bad days, they all would, but Remus was never shy to remind him that he loved him, Janus would offhandedly drop a time for secret meeting (aka, their spa time), Logan would ramble about his wings, Patton would give him an extra hug, and Virgil would offer a small smile, quiet and solitary but it carried the meaning. “You good?”  And Roman would smile back. “Yeah. I’m good.” In the end, they were there for him, they were his family.

And in the end, Roman was loved.

[q-gorgeous]

Fallen Star

fanfiction

ao3

The events of Doctors Disorders reveals that humans CAN have ghost powers. How does the public react to this? What does this mean for Phantom? prompt by @mystyrust

prequel to Ghost Farm

word count: 2665

warning: character death, experimentation, kidnapping

i need you guys to know that agent z sounds like either e boy or fix it felix from wreck it ralph

A glowing mosquito sat in an ecto-proof jar on a pristine white counter. It bounced off the sides of the glass, desperately trying to escape. A black, gloved hand reached out and grabbed the jar and shook it. 

“So humans can have ghost powers.”

An agent in an all white suit studied the mosquito. 

“How was this any different than possession? Why did this kind of possession grant the students ghost powers instead of overshadowing them?”

He put the jar down and pushed himself away from the counter, facing another man in a white suit who had been standing behind him. 

“Agent K. If we can figure out how these mosquitoes gave the teenagers ghost powers, we can use it in our fight against the ectoplasmic scum.”

“How would you suggest we go about that, Agent O?”

“We’ll have to reopen the old research compound. We can’t have the people of Amity Park finding out we’re doing this kind of research. The old compound is further away from the city so they won’t be able to trace it back to us so easily.”

“What about the test subjects?”

Agent O smiled darkly. 

“We’ll have to go find some, now won’t we?”

QQQQQ

Star was walking down the street, on her way to meet Paulina at the mall. They were supposed to go pick up some dresses for a fancy dinner at Paulina’s house. Star had told Paulina that she already had something she could wear at home, but her friend insisted Star let her buy her something. 

She turned around a corner heading down another street. The sidewalk here was pretty empty. The only person she saw was an old woman walking into her house and when her door shut, Star was all by herself. 

That’s when she felt it. There were eyes gazing into the back of her head and she quickly picked up her pace. 

She could hear heavy footsteps approaching from behind along with the crunch of gravel underneath tires. Looking over her shoulder, Star saw a man in a white suit behind her and a white car trailing behind him. For a moment, she felt a small relief. It was the GIW. They couldn’t possibly be after her. They must be tracking a ghost.

But the man had nothing in his hand and the way he stared at Star said otherwise. 

She turned back around and was about to start running when a hand grabbed her long blonde hair. She cried out as she was pulled backwards towards the man. The car stopped beside them and another man left the car, pulling a bag over her head and tying her wrists together. They both lifted her up and she heard one open the trunk and then she was being thrown in.

“Help!” She screamed before the trunk slammed shut above her. 

She heard two doors open and close before the car revved up and started driving away. Panic wormed its way into her chest and she started trying to pull her hands free. 

Luckily, the rope around her wrists loosened. She didn’t know why these agents couldn’t tie a knot, but she had to be grateful for it. She pulled the bag off of her head but she still couldn’t see anything from inside the trunk. 

Feeling around, Star tried to find a corner of the trunk where the tail light would be. When she found it, she turned around and started trying to kick into the spot. It took a couple tries, but she finally felt it start to give. With one final kick, a hole was made and she could see light coming into the trunk. 

She turned back around and started pulling material away from the hole, trying to make it bigger. When it was big enough she stuck her hand through and started trying to wave it around in the daylight. 

Suddenly, Star could feel the car turning. She hadn’t noticed they were slowing down until the turn and her heart rate began to pick up. Did they hear her kicking?

After another couple of turns, the car came to a stop and she could hear a door open. 

The pop of the trunk sounded and she was blinded by the sunlight that shone behind the man who was staring down at her. She held his gaze in fear for a few moments and the next thing she knew he was swinging at her and she was gone. 

QQQQQ

Star slowly woke up. The world came to her slowly and through her blurry eyes she could see white tiles, white walls, and a glass with a different man standing outside it. 

She yelped and suddenly she was falling into the hard cot beneath her. She looked back up towards the ceiling. She had been floating? But how?

“What did you do to me?”

The man finished taking notes on his clipboard before his head tilted up to look at her. His dark sunglasses glinted in the light of the bright room. From somewhere to his left, he held up a jar with a bug in it. Was that…?

“The ghost mosquitos?”

“We are currently studying the causes and effects of ghost powers in humans. Our first study involves introducing one of the ectoplasmic specimens to a host and observing.”

Star took in a sharp breath. “You put one of those inside me? On purpose?”

The agent continued without acknowledging her. “You have the honor of being our first test subject. We would have never thought of the possibility of humans having ghost powers until half the high school was quarantined. We can guarantee this information to be invaluable in the battle against ghosts.”

A mounting horror was beginning to gnaw its way into Star’s chest. “What are you going to do to me?”

“We will be performing a series of tests, starting with measuring the effects of long term possession and then moving onto introducing ectoplasm to the host.”

“Ectoplasm?! Isn’t that toxic to humans?!”

“Yes, but we’ll introduce it in small amounts that increase over time.”

Star stared at the ground below her, horrified. “You guys are crazy.”

“Not crazy, innovative.”

Her head snapped up to look at the agent. He had a sly look on his face, like this was the best possible thing he could be doing at this time.

“You’re crazy!” Star shouted.

She shot forward faster than what should be possible and slammed her fist into the glass in front of the agent’s face. He didn’t so much as flinch. He just lifted his clipboard back up and began to write another note. 

“Promising progress.”

Then he began to walk away. 

“Come back!” She pounded on the glass again. “Come back, you son of a bitch!”

He continued walking away down the hallway until she couldn’t see him anymore. Alone in her quiet room, Star’s anger faded back to fear. She looked down at her shaking hand.

How much worse could this get? What kind of changes were they expecting to happen to her? It was just possession! Overshadowing! Albeit, a different kind. Normally people don’t remember what happened while they were overshadowed, she didn’t know the difference between this and that. She wasn’t even in the batch of kids that had been quarantined. 

But she had been flying. Moving faster than she should be able to. She’d been so much stronger than what she actually is, and she still couldn’t get out. Couldn’t break free. 

Star took another look down the long hallway and dread filled her stomach. 

She didn’t think she’d be getting out of here. 

QQQQQ

With no changes in her powers via mosquito three days later, the agents went onto the next part of their plan. 

One minute Star was floating above her bed counting the ceiling tiles, the next she was on the floor clutching at her head as something pulsed in her room. By the time the pulsing stopped, she was already strapped into a chair. She could feel the full weight of gravity and she knew the mosquito was gone. They were moving onto the injections now. 

She looked up and sitting in front of her was another different agent. This one looked younger than the three she had seen already. 

“Hi! I’m Agent Z!”

She hasn’t met any rookie GIW agents before, but that must be what this guy is. The newest addition. 

“Today we’ll be starting the introduction of ectoplasm trial! Today we’ll start with a small amount of ectoplasm, which will increase in amount each day! As the days go by, we’ll start doing two doses of ectoplasm per day.”

Maybe she can work with this.

“Uh. You seem real chipper. Are you new to the GIW or something?”

“Yep!” Agent Z said brightly. “This is my first special assignment!”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you’re experimenting on a human though? Isn’t that a terrible thing that they’re making you do?”

“They’re not making me do anything!”

Star paused. “What?”

“I was the only agent who volunteered for the position! I think this is all very exciting!”

“What the hell.” Star whispered. “You’re all insane.”

“It’s not insane if you’re benefiting the rest of humankind!”

“That-”

Star let out a cry of pain as she was interrupted. The needle plunged into her arm and Agent Z pushed the ectoplasm out of the needle and into her veins. It burned as it flowed into her arm and was kind of cold, but it was nothing compared to the pins and needles sensation that began to cover her entire body. 

“There we go!” Agent Z said chipperly. “I’ll see you again tomorrow for your next dose!”

He got up and walked to the door, scanned his keycard, and left. 

What happened to the observation part of their research?

Suddenly the straps holding her wrists and ankles in place opened and she shot up away from the chair. She hobbled her way to her bed, the pins and needles sensation crawling faster through her legs and feet with each step she took. 

She flopped onto the bed and cringed as the sensation crawled over every inch of her body. She looked up at the ceiling, intending to continue counting the tiles again, when she saw something new. 

A small camera was fastened to the glass on the outside of her room, staring at her. 

She stared at it for a few moments before she lifted her hand up and flipped off whoever was watching her. 

QQQQQ

Four days later and she was starting to feel sick from the ectoplasm injections. Today was the first day they’d be giving her two doses and the pins and needles sensation still settled in her limbs, never having gone away from when they woke her up with the prick of a needle at seven am that morning. 

She was starting to face constant nausea and her hands had been clipping through the things in her room for two days now. She could barely stomach the meager amount of food they were giving her anymore and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer if this kept up. 

Star heard the door slide open from where she laid on her bed. She knew they could tell she wasn’t doing well. They no longer used that horrible pulsing thing on her before they came in. She didn’t have enough energy to fight back anymore. 

Agent Z quickly approached her and sat her down in the chair, positioning her wrists so that the straps locked firmly around them. He roughly grabbed her arm and stabbed her with the needle. She screamed as the ectoplasm flowed into her arm, hot and burning all the way in. 

“There we go, all done!” Agent Z said as he pulled away. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

She glared at the man through her greasy hair. He was talking to her like she was a child getting a shot at the doctor’s office. 

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for your next dose!”

With that, he swiped his keycard and walked through the door and out of the room. 

The straps released her wrists and she collapsed to the floor. Shivers wracked through her body even though she could still feel the hot ectoplasm flowing in her veins. 

Star didn’t want to die, but she hoped to whatever deity might be out there that this would all be over soon. She didn’t know how much more she could take. 

Suddenly, her stomach rolled and she was gagging and throwing up the little bit she had managed to eat earlier. Spots lined her vision and she slowly crawled her way to her bed, just wanting to fall asleep. Almost as soon as she got on it and curled up, she was gone.

QQQQQ

When Star awoke the next morning, she realized she was already strapped into the chair with Agent Z standing before her. The two agents that had first picked her up were standing on the other side of the window.

“Due to your worsening condition, today will be the last day of the ectoplasm injection trial, you’ll only receive one dose today. Starting tomorrow we’ll begin testing the effects of ectoplasmic charged electricity. We will take a few days break in order for you to gain some semblance of stability.”

“Why not just stop the trials altogether then?” Star rasped.

“The information we have gathered this far is invaluable. We’ve learned that some ways to attain ghost powers are safer than others, while others are more dangerous but much more potent. If We can find that balance between these then we’d have the ultimate weapon in our hands.”

“You guys are monsters.”

“Your participation will do much to protect your friends and family in Amity Park.” He nodded at Agent Z. “Go ahead.”

Agent Z plunged the needle into Star’s arm. 

With that last injection, Star screamed. The sound reverberated around her room over and over again, Agent Z covered his ears to protect himself from it. And then suddenly, Star’s ghost was ripping itself from her body, which fell limp against the chair it was strapped to. 

Her ghost form flickered brightly, like a star in the sky. She turned her brightly glowing eyes on Agent Z who was looking up at her with wide eyes, his hands still covering his ears. Star dove for him. 

Lifting him by the throat, Star picked him up and started throwing him into every wall as she flew around her small room. The ghostly trail she left behind her looked like the tail of a sparkling comet and soon blood was spattering onto the glass. 

Agent O pressed a button on the outside wall and the room lit up in a bright green flash and Star was falling to the floor, a beaten agent falling from her grasp into a heap. 

“Call in the sanitization and disposal team and have them come clean up this mess.” Agent O said to Agent K, who was staring at Agent Z inside the room. 

“Our Agent Z’s never last long.” K said sharply. “What should we do with the girl’s ghost?”

Agent O had a thoughtful look on his face. “We’ll keep it here for study. Her ghost must be a powerful one, that act it displayed immediately upon death is one I’ve never seen before.”

He turned around to face Agent K. “We’ll need to go gather another test subject. We’ll plan to go in two days once this mess is cleaned up.”

“Sir, I respectively ask how will we get any conclusive data if all of our subjects keep dying?”

Agent O barked out a laugh. “Who cares if they die. All that matters is that we get our answers in the end. What better way to get ghosts for research and dissection than by harvesting them ourselves?”

“Like a ghost farm, sir?”

“Yes.” Agent O Smiled wickedly.

“Like a ghost farm.”

[vaguewriting]

vague fic fragment #4

solangelo rwrb au

Will was seventeen when his mom became the president of the United States, and there were some things that he hated.

He hated moving out of his childhood home in Texas, even if it was incredibly cool that he got to live in the White House. He hated having to transfer schools for his last semester of high school (and had begged Naomi for the months leading up to her inauguration to let him finish school online). (She didn’t go for it.) He hated that they’d all been too busy with campaigning and then packing and then moving, and that when Will finally got his driver’s license, it said DC instead of Austin.

But everything else, well. That was all really cool. 

When they moved into the White House, back when Will felt like he had more reasons to feel bummed out than anything, he made himself a list. He liked making lists. They helped him relax, and they helped remind him of what was important - homework that was due the next day, or cities that they were visiting along the campaign trail. During the first year of his mother’s presidency, he made a new list. A list of every good and awesome and okay thing there was about being the First Son of the United States. 

First and foremost, Naomi had made history. In 2016, a female Democrat from the great state of Texas reached over 300 votes by the electoral college, and she had done it all without a husband by her side. And Will wasn’t going to let himself be upset about moving schools while his mother made history.

And point one, subsection A, there were now a good handful of states separating them from Will’s father.

His two best friends - Annabeth and Magnus Chase, daughter and nephew-turned-adopted-son of Vice President Frederick Chase. Annabeth had been helping her father’s campaign since she was old enough to speak, and had been crucial to Naomi’s ascent to the White House. Magnus had always been there to share his weed whenever Will got anxious. (The media had dubbed the three of them The White House Trio because they’d been so active in their parents’ campaign.) (Sometimes The Golden Trio, but that was usually more mocking.)

The three of them had all become something of minor celebrities. Sure, they were no Kardashians, but they got invited to events. The only event that Will could remember attending that wasn’t entirely political was his junior prom. 

They traveled - all over the world! Will was pretty sure he had no reason to tag along to some of the places that his mom went, but he’d barely left Texas before the campaign started. 

He got to meet so many amazing people. There were doctors who cured cancer and lawyers who fought for justice and so many people out in the world that wanted to help. Will had gotten teary eyed on more than one flight back to DC after some visits to different youth shelters across the country. 

Oh, and did he mention the plane? The private jet that he got to fly in? He’d never flown before, and he knew that Air Force One had definitely gotten him spoiled for air travel ever again.

He was going to meet royalty. 

His newest addition to the list was scribbled out in a rush after his mother announced that they would be attending the Olympics in Rio - and Will got to choose which events they got to see! (Well, some of them.) (Okay, he got to pick one, because they were only going to be there for a day or two.)

His choice was clear to him in an instant. He knew from some light social media stalking - he was a teenager who was suddenly famous, he didn’t know how things worked yet - that there was supposed to be a special guest at the soccer fields. And he knew exactly who that special guest would be. 

The Prince of England.

He had always known for as long as he could remember - for as long as he’d known what royalty was - that there was a prince about his age. There had been a girl in Will’s third grade class who had once told him that she was going to marry the prince and become a princess, and then someday, a queen. Well, Will didn’t want to rule a country. He was just on the hunt for a new friend.

And how cool would it be to have the Prince of England as a friend?

Suck it, Molly, Will couldn’t help but think as he, Annabeth, and Magnus wandered around the VIP area at the soccer fields. They were so high up above the stands that he didn’t understand how anybody could see anything that was happening in the game, but he figured it didn’t matter, since he wasn’t there to watch, anyway. He was there to search. 

“You know, chances of finding him here are ridiculously low,” Annabeth pointed out, not for the first time, as they started another lap around the stadium. “A prince is going to have a huge security detail, even bigger than ours, and everyone in this section is so surrounded by buff guys in suits that--” 

“And girls,” Magnus cut in.

“What?” 

“Guys and girls,” Magnus told her. “Or, sorry, women. Half of our security team is female, you can’t generalize like that.” 

Annabeth elbowed him and rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. You knew what I meant. And the point I was trying to make is that--” She cut herself off when she walked straight into Will’s unmoving form. “Will?” 

“That’s him,” Will whispered, eyes glued on a boy his age, standing beside a single bodyguard. 

Prince Nico was shorter than Will by a few inches, and was wearing a well-tailored black suit, as always. He tended to look like he was either on his way to a funeral, or on coming back from one. He stood with perfect posture, his pale hands clasped behind his back, though the way he held himself made Will think he wanted to lean over the rail to get a closer look at the game. Will knew he’d be here somewhere. Nico loved soccer. 

“I’m gonna go say hi,” Will mumbled, ignoring Magnus’s, “Maybe you shouldn’t--” because he was already walking. 

His first word to Nico was, “Um,” and then, “Hi, um, Your Highness.” 

Nico looked unimpressed. There was a pout to his lips and a coolness to his eyes that he never showed to the camera. (No, not coolness. Coldness.) 

“I’m Will,” he continued, unable to stop the words now that they’d already started, and he held out a hand. Nico didn’t take it. “Um. Will Solace, I’m the--” 

“I know who you are,” Nico told him. His voice was quiet, yet held commanding authority. Will wondered if that was something he’d learned alongside table manners and perfect posture. That authority in his voice was giving off a vibe of quit bothering me.

While Nico had clearly trained his tongue well, Will had never learned how to shut up. “You do?” he asked with a bright, genuine smile - he still hadn’t perfected a fake smile for the cameras - and looking at it seemed to cause Nico pain. “That’s… That’s crazy! I mean, I’m, like, a total nobody compared to you. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you! Can I hang around and watch the game with you?” 

Nico’s head turned back toward the field below, and Will took that as a yes, until he heard a whisper from beside him, voice accented in that way that nobody’s but Nico’s was: “Can you get rid of him?” 

Will’s heart plummeted. 

Thankfully, he didn’t get the opportunity to react (though he wouldn’t have minded a chance to apologize) before Annabeth was tugging on his arm. Above the thoughts suddenly swirling in his head, he thought he heard Annabeth saying, “Sorry, Your Highness, he didn’t mean to intrude,” before he was dragged away. 

They started back around the stadium, returning to their starting point - something of a suite that had been reserved for the US president and her guests. 

As he flopped down onto an empty couch, Will added one more item to the list of things he hated: Nico di Angelo.

[ventrue]

[Short Story] The Act of Existing

Yo!!! I wrote a short story for a workshopping group that’s starting up with a group of friends, and I figured I’d post it here for people to read. It’s been a while since I've written seriously, so any feedback is appreciated as FUCK!! 

WHAT REMAINS OF THE DAY is a quickly waning sliver of light that filters greenly through the window. The bright veil is split into two distinct floods right through the middle by a peculiar mountain, stretching up from the ocean and into the sky, narrowing as it climbs up until one can scarcely see the top. When one traces it down all the way to the bottom, one sees the ocean and the red clouds beneath, billowing from the depths and spreading all throughout the sea. From Lysander’s window, he can just barely see the ring of blue that extends from the base of the long, long tower that the city’s platform is perched upon. He pops a plum candy into his mouth, and flicks the paper wrapper off so that it may plummet listlessly into the miles and miles of current carrying it. Though, the wrapper fades into an imperceptible spec long before it hits the water. For a moment, there’s an intrusive thought, the unwanted desire to chuck something of substance out over the edge, just to see if it makes a satisfying plop. But as the sun’s soon swallowed by the horizon, he departs from the window, having to be content not knowing the things he doesn’t know.

As the last of the day sinks into the inner edges of the sky and the sun is swallowed into the horizon, an urn rattles on Lysander’s shelf, the brassy sheen flickering along the crystal light bouncing off of it. A stream leaves the very top, a massless and shapeless consciousness that speaks into the very deepest cortex in his mind. “Mornin’, mornin’, darlin’! If you think you’re gonna’ hit the snooze button on this shit today–.” The voice stops itself mid-thought, then deadpans. “Alright, what gives? You’re up way too goddamn early today. No sleep?”

Lysander slicks a look towards the urn and then to the presence. It is not quite visible, but it is a burly distortion of space, refractions of the world’s Essence that is as present as the very air itself. No one seems to notice it but him, and he can’t figure out why. He hums something absently and relays himself in a cool tone, “I had another bad dream, and there was only another hour until sunset. I went through our notes again.”

“Eh? Why?” The presence smooths over the room and flushes over the bed, coiling around Lysander and flopping his blonde ponytail and bangs with an exertion. “What’re you worrying your pretty little head over? Ain’t nothing more than a snooping session, yeah?”

“I would like to think so, Bram.” Lysander flips through a small notebook, a tiny black thing that he commands with only a motion of the finger to open to the desired page. “But I can’t help but to take precaution. Even the oldest and most stubborn noble families do not ignore the scientific advances of the day. If anything, they see more reason to be paranoid.”

The presence scoffs. “Yeah? And what science explains me, exactly?

Lysander shakes his head. “All the better that we add superstition to all of this.”

A deep, goading laugh, “Is it superstition if it turns out to be real?”

Lysander’s finger’s clench, bending into harsh angles like claws, “Oh my god. This is completely not the point. Let us be on our way, I’ve scheduled a tutoring session with the Vraccas family court mage for initial reconnaissance.”

“This is a helluva lot for exposing some minor corruption.” The presence remarks, slinking along Lysander until the form drapes around his slender shoulders like a scarf. “How much money did you spend on that?”

“Irrelevant. But the public works projects will never get better if we can’t make it clear that they’re being blocked in bad faith.” Lysander says, as he slips on his navy peacoat and wraps a deep maroon scarf around his shoulders. The loops and knots he has to undergo to maintain a manageable length are perhaps a touch too convoluted, but the presence happily slips into the fabric and nudges one side of Lysander’s slim jaw like a wavy appendage. This is enough to coax a smile that is slightly warmer than wan.

“You’re the boss, darlin’.” The presence says.

Lysander makes his way from the single dorm room and down the halls until he’s free from the building and out on the bricks streets of the Bacchus district. From there, he makes his way past the parked carriages and navigates through crosswalks of busy roads until he reaches the skyrail station. The building stands with grey bricks where the rest of the district blends into a sandy, contemporary shade of tan. Lysander looks up towards the monotype sign and flickering neon rails – pink like all essence – when suddenly his scarf tightens around his collarbones. “Do we gotta’ take the rail tonight?” The presence pleads.

Lysander chews on a thought. “It’s on the other side of town, otherwise–.”

The presence cuts him short. “I know, I know. But you’re a fast walker, aye? It’d be good exercise. Could stop and get a galaxy cup. Oh, oh! You might see a cute dog along the way! Maybe tip a street performer. Please?” The tone tries to play this off in some winsome charm, but Lysander knows the desperation that nips at his heels.

Lysander frowns gently, but concedes with a hand resting on top of the drape. “I’ll walk, but I’ll only have time to do maybe one of those things. This will be cutting it very close.”

“S’fine, baby! You got it, which thing?” The relief in his tone stings at Lysander.

“Galaxy cup. I’m parched.” Lysander murmurs, as he makes off around the building. When he reaches the stall about halfway to the estate, he stops by a cart with bricks of cooling runes scrawled along the bottom. Lysander floats him a few coins and receives a slushy, snowy concoctions that glitters and shifts like a swimming universe threshing with stellar life. This is swiftly consumed before they reached the front gates of House Vraccas.

The hedges are almost as oppressive as the sterling gates themselves, truly. Dotted along the uniform structures of plant life are wreathes of grown amaranthine flowers, enchanted to take life in a deeply purple hue. The meaning to Lysander is starkly clear, an expression of the eternal and reoccurring power of the nobility. As he touches his finger to a runic pad, he signals his arrival with an exertion of his energy, an Essential impulse of his latent power – a baseline level of expression for most people.

The gate lumbers open as Lysander touches the scarf once more. “Have care, Bram. Do not venture any further than I go. I will signal when I feel it is not safe for you to linger.”

The scarf’s end flutters on top of Lysander’s hand. “Worrywart.” Teasingly.

With that, Lysander chuffs and presses onward, where he is greeted by an attendant who graciously shows him the way. Passing through the silvered door, he is taken into halls of pure and pristine marble, blindingly white and adorned with lavish painting and rich purple silk drapes. Where their heels don’t find purchase on lush carpets, there is the chilling echo of clacking heels against marble. But as they make turns, and the attendant slows down, he pushes the grandiloquent aestheticism aside and begins to discern with his proverbial third eye. Color fades from his normal vision and fine details begin to blur as he searches the door frame for any runic wards. He finds nothing, and the door opening reveals no flood of Essential residue.

Bram speaks to him, “Safe to go in?” And Lysander’s answer is a reassuring touch to his collarbone.

Waiting just past the door is a lavish court and dining room, with gold braids hanging and looping from the ceiling, though the head of the table – the seat belonging to Harlan Vraccas – is empty. There are known magistrates and various official idling and partaking in lain out delicacies. Though, the gaze that slicks itself onto Lysander belongs to a mustached man in mage’s robes.

“Target spotted.” A sing-song inflection in Lysander’s mind. “You good if I snoop around for something juicy?”

Before Lysander scrutinizes the court mage, he sweeps the room with his third eye once again only to find nothing. His vision blurs just slightly from two exertions in a row, composing himself and sweeping a hand across his shoulder to signal that Bram may survey their surroundings. The scarf loses tension as Lysander approaches the man.

“I am humbled to finally meet the newest addition to Class VIII.” The smile that the court mage brandishes is oddly warm, though Lysander knows better than to expect seasoned swindlers within the Vraccas family ecosystem to always gleam so keenly like sharpened daggers.

“And the sentiment is shared in equal measure, Magister Halliday.” Lysander affects a minute incline of the head and a delicate fingertip to his own chest. “It has been quite some endeavor to adjust myself to the new curriculum,” He lies, “But I have been shown nothing short of absolute grace by both my professors and my peers.” Lysander flashes his third eye once more and sweeps over the magister.

The Essence thrumming within Halliday is an orderly ecosystem – nothing short of expected, mind – but nothing in the Essence along the man’s eyes would suggest the same anomaly present within his own. Bram is safe for now.

“Of course,” Halliday flashes a fancy flourish of his fingers, fanning faintly for effect. “Helios Academy does so well to nurture the potential within its ranks, and none would so much as doubt the Dean’s judgement in his scarce selections for Class VIII.” He rises from his seat, and gestures towards another door. “But your schedule must be pressing you for spare time given that you requested this so late in the eve.” He begins to glide effortlessly off, “Professor Bateaus was kind enough to provide the slides for his last lecture, we shall go over the sections you have trouble with in my office.”

“Of course. I will give him my thanks after Friday’s lecture.” Lysander says, as he feels a faint stiffness in the coils of his scarf once more.

After signaling his return, Bram chimes smugly, “Ooh-hoo boy! I hit some goddamn paydirt in the other room, found out a couple ‘strates have been talking about lobbying at parliament seats. Some people got some interests in making sure some curriculums in Helios are carefully edited. Gimme the clear and I’ll start digging around.”

Lysander slides his forefinger along the scarf in both approval and affirmation, though there is a tension within the bend. Lysander didn’t make a scan of the other rooms, he didn’t give him the go-ahead to venture off. Hell, he’s not even sure which room he entered or if he went into more than one. While the existence of ghosts is something unprecedented within even the deepest Essential academic communities, he cannot be comfortable with Bram acting outside the scope of any contingencies he can muster. Should Bram trigger any anomalous vacuum behaviors within any of the Essence constructs present in the building, he will be forever associated with the thought-seed of ‘anomaly’ and ‘Lysander’. Should that come to pass, the unique advantages that have been such a boon will slowly and inevitably mutate into his greatest liability.  

Regardless, with a cleansing breath, Lysander slips into the office and takes a seat on the oaken chair. The room takes on a different, more personalized aesthetic. Like slipping into a different building entirely, the wood panels exude their own rustic charm. The dark finish and lack of polish communicate rugged earnestness, with décor evocative of a sophisticated hunting lodge rather than the bare and muted prestige of cutting-edge academia. Bram once remarked about these kinds of people, the kinds that go to hunts in flashy outfits, then toss prey of their own design and have hounds ceaselessly trail them the helpless animal is hopelessly tired. Only after fatigue outweighs the tremendous dread is when the self-purported hunter slugs a measured bullet into their skull. This room feels as if the center of a Venn diagram describing the worst aspects of philosopher and warrior kings.

He can practical feel the hostile vibrations making waves in the air, sourced from Bram’s presence. As if responding, Halliday’s smile is thin and wan. Lysander touches his hand to his scarf in an attempt to calm Bram, and he offers the magister a slow and humble smile. “Now, I believe the exact slide where I felt clarification was needed was when Essential energies shift from potential ether to active flux, and the exact syntax required when rewriting axioms to compensate for when it shifts from a pseudo-gaseous state to semi-solid matter.” For Lysander, the process was more time consuming than truly difficult, but the tedium of it will allow Bram to sift through surface level qualities and information so that he can give Lysander the necessary information to help steer the conversation to more productive avenues suiting his own purposes. As well, the repetitive nature of these axioms will allow Lysander the free mental capacity to active his third eye once more, letting his gaze drift naturally about the room so that he can discern any Essential patterns in the airspace.

As Bram sifts about the room, Lysander is sure to activate and deactivate the perceptive trance as per conditioning training as to not overtax himself in projecting his mental facilities, typically in between responses. As Bram snoops about, he slides pithy comments idly, “Hee hee, look at this! He’s got romance novels stashed away. Ooh, comics, too!”

Lysander suppresses the urge to roll his eyes as he continues, remains intent on obfuscating his understanding of the mathematics at play while displaying just enough competence to not frustrate the magister.

“Boring, boring, useless, nada, nope.” The waft of distortion flutters about, visually rifling through the room without sinking into any particular object or drawer. “I mean, if you’re interested in knowing about his taxidermy collection, maybe he snuggles with his kills at night.” Lysander continues to try and ignore him as he sifts about. Eventually, he sinks back into his scarf and waits for a small lull while Lysander writes dummy notes to buy time for the rundown. “H’alright, we got some drawers under the desk. Most are unlocked, but there’s one with a keyhole and another with a rune lock. Give that shit a peep and gimme the signal for what you wanna do.  As well, he’s got a family picture facing his side of the desk, but beside him is Gresham Volte, the bootlicker parliament guy. Weird, huh?”

Weird, indeed. But there is no time to speculate. He musters another opening of his third eye and flicks his gaze to where Bram indicated. He searches for the rune’s structure and syntax, and makes sure to respond blithely to another inquiry before trying to cross-reference what he sees with other Essential wards that do not react to Bram’s spectral presence. He mimics needing a moment to write and look through his notes before he confirms that the spell Halliday used was mundane and non-reactive. He indicates to Bram to proceed with a small scratch to his scarf mimicking a subtle checkmark.

Halliday deviates from his explanation of theoretical Essence applications to cant his head and peer briefly into Lysander’s gaze. “Is everything alright, Lysander? Do you require coffee, or should we continue this at another junction?”

Lysander disengages with all other matters and computations as he aims to course correct, “I won’t say no to coffee, but I am merely churning through the theorem. Your insight has spurred quite a bit of progress in my understanding.”

Halliday’s smile is a slow thing for how bright it becomes, chin jutting out just so in equal measures amused and proud. “I am glad to hear, Professor Bateaus has always described you as quietly contemplative. I come to wonder just what goes on in that head of yours.”

Lysander does not like that. He plays it back in his head, tries to run it through several times in an effort to detect anything that might hint that he might mean more than surface level context would imply. “No more or less than anyone else, perhaps. Merely the things on my mind.”

Bram, all the while, is echoing absently as he digs through the contents of the hidden drawers, “Lots of financial shit, not really stuff I can make heads or tails of. Nothing so juicy as a candid photo, either. Pretty lame.” Quietly, Lysander begs him to be serious to no avail.

Halliday continues with his theorem untangling, rotely going over definitions as things start to stagnate.

“Wait! Love letters! One sec, one fuckin’ sec!” Bram pipes up, “Ooh, he calls them mommy. Hee hee.” Lysander groans internally, but the presence goes unfortunately on, “Oh my god, Sandy. Sandy! He gets findommed! He gets mommy dommed into giving away money!” Bram is cackling, he’s practically feral at this point.

Lysander has to maintain his composure at this point, so if Bram doesn’t stop being an insane and incessant goof he might actually try to throttle a ghost.

But Halliday begins again, almost thankfully, so that Lysander has literally anything else to focus on, “So in keeping with the spirit of Class VIII, I will provide a demonstration of the Flux parameters shifting the nature of Essence manipulation.” He splays a hand, utters something in an arcane tongue, and conjures an orb with spinning fractal runes. “I want you to perceive with your third eye and observe the way Essence must be carefully monitored and adjusted as it changes states.”

This is a problem. This will be the fifth time he will need to project his senses once more, and the strain has already proven to pose a challenge with a fourth invocation of the third eye. Should he be caught struggling, he will not be able to play this off as some physical lack from the time of night, it is a different resource altogether that will ignite suspicion if it can be inferred that he thought to use it so extensively.

Bram pipes up, “Yo! Hey, Sandy, I got something!” The presence briefly flutters from the drawer and coils excitedly, “You’re never gonna’ believe what I managed to dig up! So, you see–.”

But before Lysander allows Bram to continue, he languidly, casually, draws a gesture of an ‘C’ over his scarf. A safeword, should Lysander require Bram to cease for one critical reason or another. With silence assured, Lysander has the mental space to prepare his faculties for projection. With no more than a moment, he calls on his third eye and reserves the scantest of efforts in maintaining composure, as if this didn’t take any effort at all.

Easier said than done, though, seeing as Halliday takes his time to carefully run his fingers along the anchor points, drawing over specific runes while he explains, “Essence, being entropic in its nature, rarely goes dormant. When it solidifies and converts into potential energy, it is stored in such a way that creates a high pressure bubble that will create cracks in all known containment measures. Thus, it is critical to maintain focus and a steady diction as you incant, as you reshape the apparatus accordingly.” And it is thus, with Halliday making careful sure to enunciate with attention to clarity and purpose. The flow of energies rapidly shift, like electricity with the intelligence to seek out cracks in the barrier – and more importantly, like it has the intelligence required for an uncompromising desire to be free.

Lysander musters the mental alacrity to speak as he watches, but the dull gray of the physical world comes to fade just a touch as he splits his attention. “This is remarkably similar to the mechanics governing the powerlines of the skyrail.”

“It is, and thus the expenses required to maintain it have a lot to do with requiring an abundance of experts able to maintain the diction and switching out seamlessly. Far, far less expensive than the internal battery system used for auto-carriages.” The orb seems fit to burts even just from the mall break taken to make that sentence, and with the effort taken for concentration he doesn’t muster what it takes to conceal an obfuscation. Bram vibrates uneasily, as if wanting to speak.

“With the use of phoneme incantation, yes. Would not graphene methods be more prudent in maintaining consistency?” Lysander asks, and struggles not to show he’s buckling under the strain.

Halliday frowns, tracing over new burgeoning cracks, “Observe the erratic behaviors of the shifting Essence. The lack of a predictable pattern does not suit the static nature of graphemes. There are simply too many variances for graphemes to accurately predict.”

Lysander considers, has to try and formulate a response that does not put too fine a point on his intentions. He now has to stop and start the third eye strategically to maintain the state with the ease required to escape without suspicion. This is becoming a problem, seeing as he’s starting to make some real headway. “But it is known that graphemes will always be a spell’s natural conclusion. The nature of the spoken word is always imprecise, always in some way terrifyingly improvised, no matter how rehearsed. Perhaps research on shifting algorithmic grapheme matrices could–?”

Halliday cuts him off with a simple raise of the hand. “A convoluted wish-fulfillment proposal by an idealistic contrarian. The practicality has been brought into question with only gawks in response from Magister Sykes.”

Bram suddenly pipes in, which causes Lysander to need to rub his eyes to maintain the perception. “That’s what I was going to say! The dude in the picture is related to the CEO of Auto-Auto!” Autoflux Autoworks, this is making sense. An acceptable deviation from the safeword, thankfully.

Halliday begins to carefully begin retracting his hand, saying, “Now I want you to try and maintain the feedback loop yourself. Remember that precise diction is key, articulate at the tip of your tongue.”

There’s no way this is feasible. He needs this demonstration to end. He’s on the outer limits of what he’s capable of maintaining, to try and run through the mnemonics for equations he needs to process in order to shape the Essence. While Halliday is busy concentrating to time his disengage, he flashes a fleeting, pleading look towards Bram’s distortion. “Got you, dear.” He assures quietly.

Lysander reaches out as Halliday commands, “On the count of five, I need for you to incant as the notes specifically say. Quickness and precision are of the utmost importance, Lysander.”

Lysander gulps quietly, and attempts to pull together the fraying strands of his mind – splitting like images taken in by crossed eyes – and tries to run through the processes to project his will onto the flowing gouts of Essence starting to flow from the cracking sphere. The sphere cracks, failing to hold, and the energy begins to flicker dangerously.

“Just a touch quicker, Lysander.” Halliday instructs. He cannot. He feels like he’s about to lapse into a dream.

But before that could happen, a loud crack resounds through the room, the sound of metal clacking hard against the wooden desk. The lamp crashes through the sphere and sends a wave of kinetic force, the sound like a bell warped through tunnels of light and passed through black hole. Or at least, that’s what Lysander had imagined as before.

Halliday frowns deeply, then squints about. “How in the blazes–?” He cuts himself off, then trails into nothing as his gaze narrows into scrutiny.

Lysander quickly draws a circle with a slash through it on his collar, a covert signal for Bram to exit immediately, and then there’s no sign of him.

“Shoddy fixtures, I will make a visit to the manufacturing plant on the morrow.” Halliday says as he shakes his head and then sets the lamp back where it was, where it wobbles once more. Despite the frown that motion provokes, he maintains his same blandly pleasant tone. “Sincere apologies for this. I know that you might have a sensitivity to…” He struggled to word it.

“The accident.” Lysander says flatly. “I am fine.”

“I am sure you are.” The tail end of Halliday’s statement immediately implies a ‘but’, and he continues, “Have care, do not tax yourself overmuch in your studies. I know Bram van der Meer was someone close to you, but…” He shakes his head. “To see him between the two cars, and to pull them apart as he still took breath–.”

Lysander holds up a hand and stops him right there. “As I am well aware.” Keen, sharp ice.

Halliday looses an awkward breath. “I think we may take the lamp as a sign that the night has grown late. I hope you may find time in your schedule for a timelier tutoring session.”

Lysander affects a deep bow of the head, “It is ia privilege to receive your counsel and tutorage, Magister Halliday. I will endeavor in navigating my schedule with these visits in mind.”

The magister smiles blithely. “As you will.” Final. “He comes to a rise, as beckons Lysander towards the door. “I believe you still yet have a full schedule, and I would not see you lose sleep over matters such as these.” The tone is pleasant, but Lysander searches for ambiguity.

“Until such time. I bid farewell for now.” Lysander departs, and Halliday beckons an attendant to see him escorted from the property.

It is nearing midnight, and Lysander is in a cold sweat by the time Manor Vraccas is far in the distance behind him. “The gall.” He murmurs, having been stuck on Halliday’s treachery for some time.

Bram, now safely coiled around Lysander’s shoulders once more, tightens in support. “Fuck that guy, at least we have our hunches confirmed, eh?”

“None of it immediately actionable, but it is enough to know that we’ve hit a lead.” He speaks quietly as he makes his way through the streets, “Auto-Auto has a vested interest in snuffing out public transportation, and has connections within House Vraccas, Helios Academy, and Parliament. Auto-Auto keeps a stranglehold on public infrastructure with connections to Parliament seats, and exacerbates concerns with the Skyrail by stalling – or even tampering with – research on the Essential properties their technology uses by leveraging their connections with House Vraccas. Thus, developments are stymied on an academic level. There’s no other sense it would make to not attempt to develop past phoneme techniques and into grapheme.”

The loose threads on Lysander’s scarf visibly bristle at the explanation, “Everything’s fucking rotten all the way down to the root, you’re saying.”

“To a degree, yes,” Lysander affirms, coming upon the campus and navigating his way to the dormitory, “But none of the signs show in such a way that is admissible to any official as of yet, if such a thing is even feasible. The missing link, right now, is the individual or individuals influencing the parties necessary for this obstruction.”

Bram flaps both ends of the scarf upon Lysander’s body in frustration, “And will you manage to track the shit-lips down?”

“That remains to be seen, but such will come with time, dearest.” He pats the scarf as he makes his way through the halls, “With my partner on the case with me, we shall ensure this resolution as an inevitability. You are still my rock, after all.”

Bram chitters, “Y’know, one day you’re gonna’ oversleep and I’m gonna’ go out and possess a great big boulder, and I’m gonna’ sit right next to your bed.”

Lysander chuffs, “Break your cover and I disown you, darling.”

And with that, Lysander finally reaches his little dorm room. He’s thankful, at least, that the members of Class VIII are allocated individual rooms. Though not particularly fair, he laments, the circumstances of Bram’s continued presence necessitates privacy. Secrecy was his only chance at ensuring the change required to prevent another tragedy.

Regardless, Lysander tosses off his peacoat and slips off his shoes. Bram leaves his scarf as it’s hung on the rack, drifting off to take over a constructed, verisimilitudinous hand that scampers about on its fore and middle fingers, like they’re little legs. Lysander settles into a desk where he takes out a glass tablet, completely clear until he scrawls a specific rune onto its surface, using what little Essence he still possess this night to activate it. A scant interface fades into view, thin serif letters colored mauve and bright assembling into a journal-like structure.  He begins logging the night’s events and finding in a neat, particular order with crisp specificity.

As Lysander is writing, the Bram-hand begins to make something simple with his limited capabilities. He assembles the ingredients for a sandwich of shredded chicken and provolone. He stacks them together on a brioche roll and slathers it with a bottle of buffalo sauce, then sticks it into a glass box on the kitchen counter. Bram makes a show of reading a list of sigils before he draws one on a panel that’s stained blue. The graphene incantation is inputted and the spell is cast, an orange light blooming from the panels of the glass. After some time has passed, he stops the heating spell and pulls the sandwich from the tray and onto a plate. With its mighty thumb and pinky, it balances the plate and skitters over to Lysander, who receives the food with a thankful incline of the head and a casual scrutiny.

“You pile these so high.” An absent remark from Lysander as he struggles to fit the gooey monstrosity into one hand.

A scoff from Bram, “Only ‘cause you get so caught up in studying that you forget to eat, buddy. Lookin’ out for you, you twig.”

“Never once have you complained when you rip me from my desk with ease.” Lysander counters, the lids of his eyes starting to sag with fatigue. Had he truly taxed himself this much with the meeting? He could scarcely feel it within Manor Vraccas, likely from the adrenaline of paranoia like Essential fluid afire in a spell engine’s tubes. Regardless, he does take some time from his extensive note taking to eat what’s prepared for him.

Bram leaps off the desk into a spectacular flip, landing in a stance reminiscent to superhero comics – wide, low, and like a dynamo. He scurries off to prepare Lysader’s outfit for the morning. Though, Lysander will inevitably make edits to the selection according to his own tastes.

When he finishes diagramming possible relationships between entities and parties, Lysander’s body begins to slump into the shape of least resistance as his energy wanes until it’s vapor barely keeping him awake. He tries to do more, to bring up a new page for extrapolation and conjecture, but he dozes off for a few scant moments.

During that time, Bram looses himself from the hand and floats off into Lysander’s comforter. He crawls along the ground and climbs up the chair until he drapes over Lysander’s form, two corners of the blanket conversing over his collarbone in an embrace. One reaches up, firmly nudges his cheek. “Sandy. Saaaandy, I think it’s time to go to bed, eh? C’mon.” And as Lysander’s eyelashes flutter, he numbly struggles against Bram’s attempts to pull him towards his bed.

“There’s still yet more that needs to be done before I sleep.” He murmurs, half sleep-drunk.

Bram doubles his efforts. “You still need to be awake for classes tomorrow, darlin’. It’ll be alright.”

Lysander considers grimly, “No, yes, I’ll be fine. Shh. I need–.” He murmurs as Bram continues his endeavors, “I will rest when this is all over, when you’re–. I just–. While I still draw breath…” He trails off.

Bram the blanket tightens, the shroud pressing deeply into Lysander’s lower back and waist. “I get you, I get you…”

A sob. “It’s not fair, Bram. That you–.”

Lysander feels fabric stroking at his cheek. “I know it’s not. I want to feel this as much as you want your goddamned justice. But please, don’t fuckin’ kill yourself. I knew what I was doing when I pushed you out of the way.”

Lysander shudders, eyes squeezing tightly shut. “Things will be made right.” He insists, toned as if he were contrasting the statement against a perceived contradiction.

Bram considers, then nudges again. “Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. But I’m here, Sandy, with you.” He wraps the ends around his neck and firmly squeezes. “I’m awful lucky for someone with sucker’s luck.”

Lysander heaves out a breath, squeezed out like a deflating balloon. After silence, he lumbers to a slovenly stand and zombies his way to his bed. “Thank you, Bram. You’re still my rock.” He collapses on the bed, and curls into his smallest shape.

Bram shadows over Lysander’s sinking body and clings to him, hard. “It’s what I’m here for. Love ya’, Sandy.”

Lysander clutches the blanket, hugs as tightly as he can. “I love you too, Bram. Good night, my dearest.”

“Good night, my darlin’.” Bram echoes

Then, finally, Lysander sinks deep into the waters of unconsciousness. Bram remains, keeping careful record of every crevice of his partner’s body. The hours before dawn are long, quiet, empty as they are every night. Until, at least, he finally slips back into the urn of ashes on the shelf with the sunrise.

When Lysander wakes up, he remembers the shadow of his late night exchange with Bram. As he settles exactly into the clothes Bram picked out for him, he considers the act of existing as its own intrinsic exertion of power.

[the-taboo-king]

@vainvandal liked [+] for a Royalty Verse Starter

   A king who commits regicide does not sleep soundly, least of all this one. Deep slumber does not find Gundham often. Instincts honed through years of scrounging to survive the streets of Gehenna’s cities have made him a light sleeper. Dangers arise when your guard is down. It is best to be prepared for whatever the darkness might throw at you.

   Thus, the moment he feels a presence enter his chambers the young king’s eyes slip open. He does his best to stay still and gauge where the figure is. He keeps his breathing regular, keeping it as close to the soft breaths of a sleeper as possible. He doesn’t wish to alert a would be assassin to his alert status. That would be about as disastrous as trying to go back to sleep.

   He lets a hand slip out from under the covers, flopping it as if it was a motion made in slumber. Fingers brush the hilt of his sword, the trusty blade always on hand. Gundham takes one final breath and then he moves.

   In a single, smooth motion he rolls out of bed and onto his feet. Blade is pulled from its scabbard and Gundham spins, pointing the tip right at the intruder. Harsh, grey eyes fall on the silhouetted figure, a sneer on his lips. The moonlight streams in through the now open window lights up his features, revealing the angry red scar that runs over his left eye. A relatively new addition to the scars that adorn his body. Most can be seen on his currently bare chest.

   “Either surrender or flee, assassin,” He snarls, wanting none of this idiocy this night. “Or you will be the newest fool to feed my blade.”

[imahoforthings]

Avengers Tower Imagine

This was based off of something I saw, if anyone know the person who had this idea please lmk!! Also this is my first imagine so... might not be good and I’m probably gonna regret posting this later lol.

Warnings: language

You're the newest addition to the Avengers, you can shapeshifter into any animal you want. At only 16, you are the youngest female avenger on the team. Peter Parker is your "mentor". (He is basically as clueless as you, but the team is super busy nowadays so you two hang out together all the time).

You and Peter sprint around a corner, and immediately hide behind the nearest pillar, tryin to stifle your laughter. Falcon storms around the corner, looking for whoever just dropped that bucket of ice water on him. You and Peter look at each other, trying not to lose it when you see him sopping wet and PISSED. He looks around, and giving up the search, he leaves to dry himself off. When the coast looks clear, you guys burst into fits of laughter. "Oh man," you say, wiping your eyes. "That was good." Peter laughs too, "let's go find someone else to prank."

The two of you sprint around Avengers tower all day, you shapeshift into giant spiders and scare the crap out of Cap, and Peter scares people by dropping down from the ceiling at random intervals. Finally, breathless, you guys stumble into the giant grand hall. Tony has it for fancy events, and there's a giant chandelier in the middle. You and Peter look at each other, clearly getting the same idea, and you each rush up the opposing set of stairs o get to the top.

When you get to the top, you rush to the right side at the top. Peter and you step carefully over the railing. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he grabs your waist. He looks at you and all of a sudden you're startled by your closeness to him. "You ready?" He breathes huskily. You swear you see his eyes flick down to your lips as he asks. You nod. He shoots a web (he packed his web shooters for this very reason today) at the base of the chandelier, and jumps off. The two of you swing to the opposite side of the foyer, shrieking with laughter. All of a sudden Tony and the rest of the gang walk in through the hallway and see the spectacle. Peter balks, "Oh shi-" just as he loses his grip on the web. You think fast and shapeshift into a condor. You grab Peter's collar. You can't fly holding him but you slow down the fall enough that neither of you are seriously hurt. You turn back and you and Peter lay on the floor side by side. You look into his eyes, and- "Y/N! PETER!" Tony screams.

...

"You two are not to come out for the rest of the day," Tony growls. He was pretty pissed off at you guys for all the pranks you pulled today, as well as swinging from the chandelier. You and Peter were now locked in a conference room. Peter went over and sat on the windowsill. He looked out over the city. You joined him. Both of you sat in silence for a few minutes before you groaned. "God, this is so fucking boring. Let's play a game." Peter raised his eyebrows. "Ok fine, what game?" You roll your eyes. "Truth or dare, duh." The two of you sit down on the chairs around the giant table in the room and Peter says, "Ok, I ask first. Truth or dare."

"Dare." Peter rubs his hands together in a jokingly evil way. "Haha, ok, ok, I dare you to sneak out that crack in the window, come back in, and sneak around and get me out." You laugh. "Simple. And useful." You nod at him approvingly, "Nice dare, Parker." He grins.

You shift into an ant, crawl out the crack in the window. When you're out, you shift into a pigeon and fly down to the front of the building. The doors to the tower were always left open for people to filter in and out of the lobby. The WiFi was free for college kids too, so you turned back into yourself and quickly strode in, keeping your wits about you. It was a pretty empty day. You ducked into the bathroom lobby and turned into a mouse so that you could go past security without being seen, but also being quicker than a bug. Once you're past all the security, you shift back into yourself and sprint up to free Peter. Besides almost running into Natasha, (involving some quick shifting into more bugs) you get up fine. You unlock the door and Peter lifts you off your feet in a huge hug. You laugh at his cheesiness. You pull away, and try to slow down your quickly beating heart by telling him, "Okay, we can't be seen or else Stark will lock us somewhere that we REALLY cant escape, and that would suck." Peter nods in agreement. "What should we do now?" He asks. You grin. "Let's listen in to the Avengers' meeting!"

...

You and Peter are up in your room. You two are sitting at the end of the bed. Using the screen that’s above your headboard, Peter hacked into the PA system and rewired the microphone in the meeting room to the speakers in all four posts of your bed. With one final click, the system is working. "-noying. What did you do with them anyway Stark?" Falcon is saying. "Locked them in the old meeting room." Stark replied. You and Peter glance at each other. Oh boy. They're talking about you. Wanda laughs. "You sure that's a good idea Tony? Two teenagers, alone, LOCKED in there for the rest of the day?" Oh dear god. You think. This is so embarrassing. You cover your face in your hands. Peter has this adorably confused look on his face, and you can't stand to look at him. You suddenly hear a giggle. You have at Peter. He's full on laughing now. Seeing him laughing like that always makes you laugh, so you join in. Both of you are sitting there in fits of giggles. And you both flop back on the bed. Peter suddenly looks at you, a quite serious look on his face. "She's right though." He says. You raise a brow at him. "I've been thinking of kissing you all day." He explains, looking at his hands. You try to fight the grin off your face as you scooch closer to him on the bed, and whisper, "Me too," as your lips finally meet.

[shelleycollinsna]

17 Things to Do in Toronto in Winter: Full Guide to the City

Headed to Canada quickly as well as hoping to check out all the things to do in Toronto in the winter months? Order your snow boots and hop on analysis-- this Toronto wintertime overview will have you dressing and preparing to discover in no time at all!

Toronto, sometimes referred to as "The 6" (thanks, Drake), is the ultimate year-round location, however can be particularly quite (albeit chilly) during the winter season time.

But do not fret-- if your plans have you going to Toronto in the winter, there are plenty of means to enjoy this attractive city, both out in the frigid temperatures in addition to inside to remain warm.

Regardless of the season, if this is your first time seeing Toronto, plan to look into the leading city spots (believe me-- they're a lot more stunning with a fresh layer of the fine-grained white stuff ... we're speaking about snow right here).

I have actually checked out Canada many times during the warmer summer months (Montreal, Quebec City, Banff, Whistler, Jasper,, Niagara Falls, and also Toronto), yet have never ever risked to tip foot in the wintertime paradise that is Canada once the air's transformed frigid. Well, besides a snowy couple of days in Banff, as well as I have to claim it's my newest fixation.

But lucky us, we have Diana (an indigenous Torontonian) from Diana's Healthy Living to share with us her favored things to do in Toronto in winter, from discovering neighboring islands (yes, even in winter months) to delighting in peameal bacon sandwiches. Take it away, Diana!

And psst-- you might hear Torontonians referring to our lovely city as Toronno. If you pronounce it ToronTo, you're screaming visitor from the top of your lungs. Just FYI if you wan na assimilate with the locals a little bit much more.

WEATHER IN TORONTO DURING THE WINTER MONTHS

It's constantly a great time to take a trip to Toronto (although I may be biased- I'm from the city!), however a winter months browse through actually displays the extra enchanting panache you'll see showcased around the location. From Xmas markets, ice skating, and other holiday celebrations, don't forget about winter in Toronto just because of the winter!

And while Toronto is recognized for its cold temperatures, it's not aaaassss chilly as one might think. Typical January temperatures (the coldest month of the year) hover around 30 levels F, which, while a little below freezing, isn't allll that bad if you bundle if appropriately!

Nevertheless, do note that temperature levels might get to 14 degrees F once in a while, with night time temps below -4 levels F (specifically in the north suburban areas). As well as let me inform ya, that wind chill will eliminate you-- making it feel like -22 levels (and also no, that-- is a not a typo).

Plan your interior activities once the sunlight sets in order to maintain your outdoors exploring when the sun's high in the sky.

As for snow goes, anticipate the initial snowfall to happen around November, but don't be surprised if it's snowing in October (this takes place more frequently than not). Snow lasts up till around March or April. With all this being stated, you can anticipate a winter terrific loaded with cosy white snow in between the months of October with April. Make sure to load and also clothe properly! Extra on that particular below.

CRUCIAL THINGS TO PACK:

As you most likely believed, if you're traveling to Toronto in the winter there's a couple of apparel things that come extremely suggested. This do without stating, but leave your flip flops behind and load your hottest winter boots.

If you have not listened to (or check out the weather report up above), Toronto obtains a suitable quantity of snow and thus can be relatively cold; however, don't let the cool scare you away. Gown warmly in a winter season layer, tuque (that's Canadian for winter season hat), handwear covers, and also winter boots, and also you're ready to check out the city with hot delicious chocolate in hand!

A few of my favored cold-winter weather condition things to pack:

Hand warmers: these single-use air activated heat packs give heat as well as are excellent for keeping your hands (and body!) warm in cold temps.

thermals/long underwear/heat-tech uniqlo t shirts

warm, light-weight socks

chapstick as well as lotion

heavy coats

HOW TO GET AROUND

If you are taking a trip from the flight terminal there is the UP Express that leaves from Toronto Pearson Terminal 1 every 15 minutes as well as takes you directly to Union Terminal. You can likewise take an airport terminal limo, taxi, Uber, or Lyft.

A fantastic method to navigate the city and absorb several of the well-known sights is a Get on Hop Off Bus as it will help you see the highlights promptly particularly if you are on a time restriction.

The TTC (subway- the bullet) isn't one of the most lavish method to travel as well as you might be packed during heavy traffic however it is clean (a lot of the moment) and also secure. Prices set you back $3.25. You can likewise purchase symbols for a Presto Card.

If you're driving in the city I would certainly suggest that you load your perseverance and also budget for the fairly expensive city parking. Make sure to keep an eye out for the cyclists as they are pedaling when traveling year round. Yes, also in winter. The cold's got nothin' on the residents.

WHERE TO KEEP:

Hotels in Toronto

There's a wealth of resort choices in Toronto If you are looking to remain in the heart of the city and cost is not an issue, after that I would certainly advise the new St. Regis Resort. If you want a resort with a stunning view of Lake Ontario, then I would advise the brand-new Hotel X Toronto. Can't go wrong with either option!

AirBnbs in Toronto.

If you're searching for a much more regional remain, certainly take into consideration renting out an AirBnb instead! Search for your ideal keep from a whole number of Airbnds in Toronto below! I advise these, excellent for a wintertime remain in the city!

Cosy Central Apartment (near midtown): There's a sectional sofa, widescreen television, and also views with city lights. And also, the entire space is so beautiful! Charming, clean, and practical. Condominium with Sensational City Views: Super fashionable (with a lemon yellow couch as well as gold accents) and a bird's-eye view! Near everything midtown!

HELPFUL EXPRESSIONS WHILE IN TORONTO

Much like we articulate Toronto "Toronno" you may hear a few other weird expressions. To aid you fit right in.

Eh?: this word is used to indicate that you do not comprehend something, can not believe something is true or if you want the individual to respond or we usually state this at the end of every sentence.

A Loonie: a $1 Canadian coin.

A Toonie: a $2 Canadian coin.

Double-Double: refers to a coffee (commonly from Tim Hortons) with two creams and two sugars.

Timmies: it refers to the much-loved fast-food coffee chain, Tim Horton's.

If you do not know or love Timmies, you're not a real Canadian.

The 6ix: Toronto's label.

Two-Four: frequently made use of to describe a situation of 24 beers.

Pop: frequently utilized to refer to soft drink

Canuck: a slang term for Canadians.

Caker: another slack term for Canadian

ADDED IDEAS FOR YOUR BROWSE THROUGH TO TORONTO:

Language: English or Canadian

Electrical Energy: 110V (like the U.S.A.).

Currency: The Canadian currency is the Canadian Dollar. Canadian currency is vivid-- the 5 dollar bill is blue, 10 dollar bill is purple, fifty dollar bill is red, and also the one hundred dollar bill is brown. We likewise have Loonies (one buck coin) and toonies (two buck coin).

Tax obligation: When getting anything in Toronto, consisting of food, beverage, clothes, anything actually, you have tax obligation ahead. This is 13% and also the price you see of items on the shelves, in menus etc, will normally be before tax.

Points to do in Toronto in Winter season.

CN TOWER.

Toronto's most popular attraction is the CN Tower, the tallest free-standing structure in the western hemisphere as well as it now consists of EdgeWalk (seasonal), an awesome hands-free walk around the outdoors walk of the tower.

Standing at 1,815 feet high and designated as one of the 7 Marvels of the Modern Globe, it is a need to visit as it's a Canadian symbol and a sign of Toronto.

You can consume supper at the revolving restaurant, walk on the glass floor, take in the 360 level sights of Toronto from in and out, appreciate a virtual reality flight, learn about the making of the CN Tower and for an actual thrill, head outdoors as well as lean over the side of the tower on the amazing Edge Walk. If you are brave enough to hang off the CN Tower double check the dates of operation.

IMPERIAL ONTARIO MUSEUM (ROM).

If you are a history buff after that checking out the Royal Ontario Museum is a must as it is Canada's biggest museum of globe cultures and also nature. There are extensive galleries and also interactive displays from dinosaurs to old Egypt situated right in the heart of Toronto.

ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO (AGO).

The Art Gallery of Ontario is amongst the most prominent art museums in North America. View the works of the Team of Seven to work of arts of European art.

ST. LAWRENCE MARKET.

St. Lawrence Market has actually been ranked by National Geographic as the globe's ideal food market. It is located in Old Town Toronto where you can taste your way through the food stalls, as well as restaurants. Make sure to try the popular peameal bacon sandwich at Slide carousel Pastry shop. I would drive into the city simply to sink my teeth right into this sandwich.

HOCKEY HALL OF FAME.

I make sure when you think about Canada the first thing that enters your mind is Hockey. Hockey is more than a game to Canadians. Hockey is a sign of Canada, and even a way of life.

The Hockey Hall of Fame features one of the most intricate collection of hockey souvenirs as well as equipment from around the world, as well as interactive video games, multimedia stations and also shows on the video game's greatest gamers, there's something for every person at the Hockey Hall of Popularity.

TORONTO EATON CENTRE.

The Toronto Eaton Centre is one of the city's most prominent destinations situated in the heart of midtown Toronto. There more than 250 sellers so you are sure to find something to please your shopping addiction.

CASA LOMA.

Betcha really did not assume you would certainly have the chance to go to a castle while in Toronto. Casa Loma was developed as an exclusive home by Canadian sponsor Sir Henry Pellatt in 1914 that features sophisticated spaces, secret passages, sweeping stairs, stables and rich gardens. Casa Loma is Spanish for "Hill Residence," as well as attracts guests from around the globe to watch the attractive grounds.

ONTARIO SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH CENTRE.

The Ontario Scientific research Centre is residence to greater than 500 interactive experiences, spread throughout 8 display halls. It also flaunts Ontario's only IMAX ® Dome theatre, an advanced planetarium, an authentic rainforest atmosphere as well as a discovery location just for children 8 as well as under.

RIPLEY'S AQUARIUM OF CANADA.

Situated at the base of the CN Tower in the heart of the home entertainment area, Ripley's Fish tank of Cabada is 135,000 square feet of interactive, underwater exhibits, the country's largest indoor fish tank. This is especially a prominent place for households over the weekend as well as holidays.

TORONTO ISLANDS.

Take the breathtaking ferry flight over to the Toronto Islands, which offers a terrific sight and also photo opportunity of the city skyline. It is only a 10-minute ferryboat ride from midtown Toronto. It makes for a fantastic winter months expedition if you enjoy outdoor tasks. Only the Ward's Island ferry runs during the winter season and also will certainly take you to the eastern part of the islands.

SEE A WINTER SEASON LIGHT SHOW AT ONTARIO AREA.

Part of Ontario Location's current rejuvenation movement includes an excellent and cost-free winter months light event that's paired with skating fire pits, as well as food suppliers. It's open all winter season long.

GO FOR A SKATE.

Skating seems to be Toronto's much-loved winter months task, and there are plenty of magical skate routes to check out throughout the city along with a lengthy checklist of public skating rinks. Some rinks are also open late right into the evening. Be sure to wrap-- you will find outside skating a whole lot extra pleasant if clothed comfortably.

BROWSE THROUGH THE DISTILLERY AREA FOR MORE LIGHTS.

The Distillery District is fantastic to go to over the Christmas vacations as it Toronto's Xmas Market. The Toronto Light Celebration will start on January 19 that will change the Distillery Area back into an enchanting exhibition of light and art.

THE TORONTO INDICATION.

The TORONTO indicator, initially set up as part of the Frying pan American Gamings in 2015, was such a hit with residents as well as site visitors that it's stayed. See it in Nathan Phillips Square before Municipal government that is illuminated at night.

Roadway Trips From Toronto in Wintertime.

If you are still trying to find things to do in Toronto in the wintertime then there are some great roadway suggestions.

NIAGARA FALLS.

Niagara Falls, Ontario, is a Canadian city at the renowned waterfalls of the exact same name, related to the united state by the Rainbow Bridge. You can make it to Niagara Falls from Toronto in under 2 hours making this a fantastic destination for an excursion or stay the evening to delight in the nighttime light show.

The Loss are beautiful however even more so during the wintertime as some areas panic. A wonderful way to see the drops is through the nighttime totally free illumination. Annually the Winter months Celebration of Lighting happens from early November proceeding till the end of January. The celebration boasts over 2 million lights as well as over 125 computer animated light display screens along the Niagara Parkway.

It is complimentary as well as great for the entire family. See to it to bundle up as it can be rather cold during the cold weather.

NIAGARA-ON-THE-LAKE.

Niagara-on-the-Lake is a town in southerly Ontario. It's recognized for its vineyards and also the summertime Shaw Celebration, a collection of theater productions. You can make it to Niagara-on-the-Lake in under 2 hours from Toronto. There are also helicopter packages from Toronto with Flygta. It is fantastic outing or weekend trip from Toronto.

Throughout the winter season you can enjoy several of the numerous winter months occasions such as the Niagara Icewine Event that ranges from January 18-- 28.

BLUE HILL.

If you love the outdoors then I would certainly recommend heading up North to heaven Hills region, about a two hr drive from Toronto, where you can ski, snowshoe, go caving, skating. The tasks are endless and also there is something for every person.

The post “ 17 Things to Do in Toronto in Winter: Full Guide to the City “ was appeared first on A passion and A passport

[exxar1]

Episode 4: Waking Up

11/14/2020

Good morning, folks. As I write this, I’m sitting in my living room, listening to an Apple music channel of classic Christmas carols, while late morning sunshine streams through my front window. I have just finished putting laundry in the dryer and washing the few dishes in the sink that piled up during the week. My McDonald’s iced coffee is almost gone, and I’m feeling ready to face the day.

I have a couple hours before I have to start getting ready for work, so there’s not a lot of time to hammer out this blog entry. I don’t have a lot to say for this episode, but I have been feeling somewhat strange for the last couple weeks. Not ‘strange’ in the physical sense, but ‘strange’ as in ‘there’s something happening with me that I can’t quite explain’.

And now I’m going to try to explain what I’m talking about.

Per my usual work routine, I spend 5 ½ hours every morning, Monday through Friday, in the lobby of Walmart, greeting customers and making sure everyone is wearing their face mask. And, as usual, I have nothing but my own thoughts and the occasional conversation with co-workers to keep me company. But mostly just my own thoughts. And boy, my brain lately will just not shut down – or even go into standby mode. It seems that all I can do lately is just think, think, think. Here’s a sample of what tumbles through my head from morning until night every day:

·      Is the ballot recounts for the national election close to being done? Will Trump retain his presidency (I hope), or will America finally get its first female president? (Yes, you read that correctly.)

·      Spencer Klavan of the “Young Heretics” podcast so damn good looking, and the fact that he’s also a “Super Mario Bros” fan in addition to being ivy league educated and possessing near-savant level human intelligence has forced me to finally admit that I have had a massive crush on him for almost four months now. (I just wish he wasn’t such an avid gym rat. That’s such a turnoff. Well, that, and the fact he already has a boyfriend.)

·      I need to start working on the story ideas that came to me a few weeks ago. There’s two really good ones that I know would make excellent short stories, or, at the very least, novellas. One’s about a superhero called The Red Mask, and the other is about cats and dogs that are created with a sophisticated AI that allows them to look, feel and behave exactly like real animals but without all the maintenance and mess that pet owners have to put up with (such as feeding them, combing them, bathing them, walking them, training them, cleaning up their poop, etc.).

·      Oh! A circuit court judge in Georgia just ordered a bunch of ballots to be thrown out in that state’s recount!

·      Spencer Klavan liked one of my tweets about Young Heretics!!!!

·      Should I have McDonald’s for lunch or the apple I brought with me? The apple. Definitely the apple. Need to stay healthy.

·      I can’t believe all the idiots on social media that not only voted for Biden/Harris but actually think that he will make a good president. What the hell is wrong with them???? Anyone with half a brain can easily recognize what Trump has done for this country, and it scares the shit out of me that the radical left (capital ‘R’, capital ‘L’) just might get their foot in the door of the White House. What the fuck is wrong with half of America right now??? It’s all that “white fragility”, “systemic racism”, “white privilege”, “black lives matter” bullshit!!! How the fuck did that horseshit gain such powerful traction in this country????Robin Deanglo and Ibram X Kendi and all their pathetic followers are so full of shit they ought to open their own manure factory!!!!

·      Yay! The 2021 “Super Mario Bros” and “Star Trek” wall calendars I ordered on Amazon have shipped! They’ll be here Tuesday!

·      And that reminds me, I need to start working on the photo calendars that I give to my family every year for Christmas. Maybe I should do that this Saturday morning before my shift at Check City.

·      Oh. Time for my break. Yay! Coffee!

And…repeat. That. All of that. Over and over all day long – creative story thoughts, political thoughts, work thoughts, checking my phone three times an hour to review the latest posts on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to stay on top of all the latest news and current events that serve to fuel my new woke self. Texting friends and family about this and that. On and on and on...

Hhmmm. My new woke self.

The other day, as this new thought occurred to me, I mentally reviewed everything that’s happened to me this year, everything that I wrote about in that first blog episode. I also thought about my recent self-examination of my whole life up to this point, the stuff I covered in episodes 2 and 3 of this blog. Then I thought back over the last two weeks: the sudden and unexpected passing of Aaron; his memorial service that I made an emergency trip home to Idaho to attend; and, finally, this new, strange…’wokeness’, for lack of a better term, that I now find myself in.

I honestly don’t know how to precisely describe it. I’ve been trying all this week to come up with apt, specific words and/or phrases, and then, finally, I thought of something. I’m a huge fan of the reboot of “Battlestar: Galactica” that was done by Ronald D Moore on the SyFy channel in 2004. It’s been a few years since I last binged all 4 seasons of that terrific show, but I was thinking about it the other day as my mind wandered, and it suddenly occurred to me what this new ‘woke’ state that I’m in feels like: the Cylon sleeper agents (who looked and acted like real humans) that were suddenly awakened to their true nature.

Yeah, I’m not kidding. Yes, I know how that sounds, but let me explain. I really feel like that, somewhere deep in the core of my brain, a metaphorical ‘switch’ was flipped from ‘off’ to ‘on’ along about late August or early September of this year. The world around me did not change, but my perception of it – as well as my perception of my place in it – did fundamentally change. I realized this week that for pretty much all my life I’ve been coasting through it. Everything that I’ve done and accomplished took no real effort or sacrifice on my part. Everything after high school pretty much just happened naturally. I decided to join the Army on a whim. When that didn’t work out, I came back home and enrolled in college. I spent 4 ½ years doing what I loved – reading, writing, discussing reading and writing – and I came out with a Bachelor’s in English. Again, no real effort. I coasted through on my natural talents. The only real work was in the core classes that I needed for my degree, like math or biology. But those were few. And then, after college, instead of putting my degree to use, I just settled for a day job in retail and then, later, in an elementary school. And then, in 2012, on a whim, I quit my job and moved to Las Vegas. Once again, I found a cushy day job where I make really good money, and…then 2020 happened.

In other words, I’ve never been an active participant in my own life. I just kinda let everything happen and went with the flow. I even had this same attitude in high school and it drove my parents and teachers absolutely mad. I didn’t care about being valedictorian or captain of the sports teams or even being the best damn piano player this side of the Rockies. All that mattered was hanging out with my friends and making sure the VCR was set each week to record the newest episodes of “Star Trek: DS9” and “Star Trek: Voyager”. And, without consciously realizing it, that’s been my attitude for my whole damn life. I’ve never cared about the world beyond my own front door. If it didn’t affect my life directly, I never paid it any attention. That’s especially true for politics. No matter who sat in the White House, my life never changed. So I figured, why bother? I’m perfectly content to live a quiet, solitary existence, and the rest of the world can do its own thing.

Except that now I’m no longer content with my quiet, solitary existence. Something within me fundamentally changed this year, and there’s no going back.

I am awake. (But, unlike the Cylons, I’m not about to start murdering humans.) I’m certain that it was God’s hand that reached down to flip that invisible switch in my brain, but now that I have rejected my former sleeper state, I don’t know exactly what to do. For the last couple weeks, I have felt nervous; anxious; excited; jittery; like a live wire that’s been cut and is now flopping on the ground, shooting sparks and energy. I have to constantly resist the urge to grab total strangers off the street and shout at them to “Wake up!” The world around us is changing, and we can’t live as sleeper agents in our own lives. Everything that’s happened in 2020 is going to shape the future of this country and the lives of everyone in it, and no one can afford to not care and just keep living their quiet, solitary lives.

This is why I scream on social media about the stupid mask mandates, and the ‘lamestream’ media, and politics, and everything else that I’ve been ranting and raving about for nine months. And yes, I’m sure some of my friends think I’ve gone crazy, and more than a few have probably unfollowed me. I don’t mean to alienate folks, but I have to put this energy somewhere or I’ll go crazy.

One of biggest changes that I have noted is that I no longer have a desire to park in front of the TV in my time off. I still have a few regular shows that I watch each week, but my passion has turned to reading and podcasts. I renewed my Audible.com membership a few months ago, and I have started stockpiling audiobooks on various subjects: biographies of the Founding Fathers of America, non-fiction books on artificial intelligence and other new forms of technology, books on world history, western literature and Greek philosophy. (I recently began listening to a series of lectures from Boston University on Plato’s “Republic”). And, of course, the highlight of my week is a new episode of “Young Heretics” every Tuesday. (And no, it’s not just because of my crush on Spencer Klavan.) I also have started carving out an hour here and there each day to grab my laptop and write a few paragraphs of new stories or just jot notes for upcoming stories.

I really, honestly feel as if something is coming. I don’t know what, I don’t know when, but God woke me up for a reason. He’s got something planned for me, and I need to be ready for it. I’m pretty certain the world is not coming to an end anytime soon, and I’m sure 2021 will be a better year for our nation than 2020, no matter who’s sitting in the White House. And yes, Lord willing, this stupid “pandemic” will also be over sometime soon. For me, personally, 2020 was the year that changed me and got me ready for whatever is coming. A fire’s been lit under my ass, but I’m not sure where yet where I’m supposed to be jumping up and running to.

I am sure, however, that It’s time to be an active participant in my own life.

Hey mom and dad, I really do care now, and I really, truly want to do my best. I want only top grades and to be the captain of…something. It only took twenty-six? Twenty-seven years? But now I’m going to be that grade-A student that you and Mrs. Tutty and Mrs. Jones and Mr. Walker always knew I could be.

Better late than never, eh?

[centeris2]

“Hey look, it’s Raptor!” “Hey over here! Raptor give us a smile!” “I LOVE YOU!” “Can you sign my shirt?” “Are the rumors that you are paying child support to three different women true?” “Will you take a selfie with me?” “I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES!”

If Raptor said he didn’t like the attention his fame had brought him, he would be lying. This, in part, was what he had wanted his entire life. And now he was wanted by the entire world. Or at least wanted by anyone who had heard of him and heard his songs.

He grinned and waved to his devoted fans and flashing paparazzi as his body guards cleared the way so that he could get into the car. As fun as staying in his penthouse was, he had work to do. Today, that work involved going to the studio to talk with his manager as well as drop some hints on social media that a new song was coming out soon.

“Gonna drop some sick beats soon, are you ready for #yohey ?” he posted to his Jitter account. The song had already been recorded, but his people thought that the sales would be better with more hype and then a surprise release. With that sent he looked out the window, watching the city go by as the driver navigated the streets. When the car stopped at a light he saw a group of teenagers walking down the street.

He rolled down the window and called out, “Hey yo!”

“RAPTOR!?” the group screamed, rushing to take their phones out before he could drive away. He gave them a wave as the car pulled away, chuckling at the excited screams he heard as the car drove away.

By the time he reached the studio about twenty minutes later his post had received over four thousand favorites and almost two thousand reposts. Ideally he would get the hashtag trending, that would make his manager the happiest.

When he stepped out of the car he was greeted by more paparazzi that were pushed back by his guards as he walked into the building. Some of them followed him on Jitter, as he heard some of them asking him about “Yo Hey” and when it would be coming out.

“Raptor, there you are!” his manager acted as though he was late, even though he was actually a few minutes early. Raptor smirked at the older man as he flopped down onto the couch in the office.

“Yo man, so how’s it look?”

“Fantastic! We got the schedule for the tour all lined up, although we’ve made one more addition,” the stout man gleamed, handing his best star a copy of the locations and dates.

“You crammed in four more spots a few days ago, aren’t you overdoing it?” Raptor asked as he looked. The original tour schedule was tight already and would have barely given him much time off besides the time he’d spend traveling to each location. However, more places had wanted him and his people had obliged by both extending his tour time by several weeks and doubling the amount of concerts he’d be performing. The newest addition to the roster was highlighted, and he couldn’t help but smile. Jorvik Plaza, the mall in Jorvik City. The last concerts there had gone very well but he was surprised they were trying to get him back so soon. He couldn’t help but wonder how much they were shelling out, or what favors they had had to call in to get him back in to perform for another week only a few months after his last week spent there.

“You can handle it, besides everyone wants to see you! You can’t disappoint your fans!” his manager Mr. Bigcake grinned widely when Raptor took a pen and officially signed off on the tour. Raptor would never want to disappoint his fans.