#s up painting my car and the detailing isn’t exactly needed it was just to make it feel more luxurious so we’re literally gonna vacuum it

[vanillann]

unsolved (spencer reid x reader)

a/n: i was watching buzzfeed unsolved when i came up with this idea so enjoy. also i know it’s not exactly right but i didn’t feel like going back and watching the ep so.

warning: swearing, talk of cases, and sexual innuendos

word count: 3.3k

“Hi, Welcome to Buzzfeed Unsolved! We’re your host Ryan and Shane.”

I sat in a spin by chair between the two, my legs crisscrossed as I spun as fast as I could with Shane picking at arm.

“This is (Y/N)-“ when I heard my name I dramatically grabbed Ryan’s arm chair, smiling at the camera “a good friend of ours.”

“I had never spoken to either of them before today,” I spoke directly into the camera, the widest smile on my face when Shane gasped.

“She exposed us!” He pointed an accusing finger at me, Ryan slowly reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“We need her for this case,” Ryan spoke mysteriously, as if he was in a mob of some sort.

“Yeah why is that?” I rested my elbow on the chair, placing my chin in my open hand as I looked between the two.

I would normally be shoved in the corner of my desk trying to avoid another weird product video. I didn’t want to wear another weight blanket that made me almost fall to the floor.

“We are doing a case today and from the gossip around the office, you’d be pretty familiar with it,” Ryan said nothing more as he held a picture up to the camera.

I looked to the viewfinder, my eyes going wide as I recognized the mugshot immediately.

“That’s the Reaper!” I pointed at the picture, grabbing Ryan’s wrist so I could get a better look.

“Is that your boyfriend or something?” Shane added, looking over my shoulder at the picture in my hand.

“No, the BAU worked in this case!”

I didn’t know my intense knowledge of BAU cases would make it around the office, but I suppose when you have a printed article of you standing with Agent Gideon and Hotchner word moves fast.

“You actually know a lot about BAU cases from what I hear,” Ryan almost smirked at me and I was close to attacking him.

“Yeah-“ I turned to the camera, thinking I should explain myself before people thought I was crazy “so when I was young my mother had a stalker.”

The room suddenly went from light and breezy to scary and stuffy, something I hated.

“Anyways, when my mother died he disappeared into thin air. I then got an internship here at Buzzfeed and suddenly I was being mailed pictures of myself.”

I felt Shane give a knee a quick squeeze, which made me smile but I said nothing about it.

“It is really bad, I’m not going into detail, that the FBI got involved. Gideon was my savior that day, Hotchner too. Since then I’ve kept up with their cases and Gideon still sends me letters even after he left,” I finished my story, smiling down at the case file Ryan held between his fingers.

“Enough sad story, let’s talk about murder!” I clapped my hand, Shane laughing at my excitement.

“Okay, before we get started with this video I would like to clarify this isn’t a normal unsolved case. While the case was pinned to a murderer, the real unsolved piece is what happened to him,” Ryan got into character, slowly opening the folder and reading off the first words.

“On June 5th, 1996, Tom Shaunessy was called to investigate a murder in Boston. It was a couple, laided into their chair with multiple gun shots to their head and torso-“

“Wait, in the car in Boston?” Shane asked.

“That’s what I just read,” Ryan replied.

I smiled to myself, already knowing the editing that would take place with the black screen and the blue and yellow words floating across.

“Isn't Boston super busy?”

“It has like 700 thousand people,” I spoke up, wondering what color my words would be in.

“How do you just know that?” Ryan looked over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows raised.

“If you saw the article I was currently writing you would understand,” I shrugged, moving in the chair so I could get a better look at the case file.

Ryan coughed, looking back down at the file to continue.

“When another set of murders came in, this time an older couple, Shaunessy, panicked as he found the first victim, Harry Goodwill, watching at the scene.”

“That was his signature,” I held a hand up like a child in class, smiling as I already knew what came next.

“Bingo!” Ryan pointed to me, smiling at my excitement.

“When this happened again, this time alone woman, Shaunessy called in the BAU-“

“You mean the love of (Y/N) life,” Shane cut in, smiling when I hit his shoulder.

“If you saw a picture of them you’d be in love too,” I shrugged, not thinking much about my words.

“Agent Aaron Hotchner joined the team and worked closely on this case with Shaunessy.”

“So this man just texted the FBI,” Shane started laughing before he could get his words out.

“I’m pretty sure there are rules,” Ryan looked over at Shane, looking at me when we tried to understand why he was laughing.

“I’m sorry, death shouldn’t be this funny,” Shane took a breath, making a hand motion for Ryan to continue. I started laughing at that, keeping it low so Ryan could continue.

“After 18 murders, there were no leads. The only consistent thing was he mostly killed couples and he left an item from his last victim at the crime scene. The BAU conducted that he was most likely killing the couple because of his own failed marriage or possibly one close to him.”

“So he started killing because he hated to love? I bet he hates Valentine’s Day,” Shane shrugged, his smile breaking across his face when I spoke up.

“Nah, he seems more like a Halloween type guy,” I shrugged, laughing when Ryan hit his elbow on the table.

“Okay okay, back to the good stuff,” I pointed at the file, laughing when Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Now victims 19 and 20 is where the story starts to twist. Amanda Bertram and George Foyet-“ I shivered at the name “we attacked by the Reaper.”

“Did you say attacked?”

“Yes, while Amanda Bertram was killed in the struggle Foyet manages to survive with serious injuries.”

“So this dude just accidentally forgets to kill him?” Shane almost yelled, reaching for the file to read himself but Ryan moved it back.

“He saw the ghost of Valentine and just ran,” I played on the joke earlier, which made the two laugh.

“The heart-shaped boxes of chocolate really made him shit himself,” Ryan barely got the words out, his laugh slowly turning into a cough.

“We shouldn’t joke about a murderer when we don’t know his whereabouts,” I laughed along.

“Wait, you’re telling me they lost him!”

“Yep,” I popped the “p”, smiling when Shane looked to Ryan who only shrugged,

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Was all he said before he continued the case.

“After this no new leads were found, it was later discovered that The Boston Reaper sent Shaunessy a note that if the investigation was shut now he would stop killing,” Ryan read the words off.

“I bet he ended the letter with “xoxo from your worst nightmare” with a lipstick stain,” I spoke without thinking, covering my mouth when I realized what I said.

“Oh he’d definitely come at you now,” Shane pointed at me, wiggling his eyebrows in the process.

“No way! The BAU will save me,” I shrugged, smiling as I imagined the team busting in the door at the last minute like they always did.

“Oh yeah the one dude, what’s his name,” Ryan started snapping his fingers as he thought over his words “Sp-“

“Spencer Reid!” I practically yelled the name, my smile only growing large at the mention of the handsome Doctor from the BAU team. While he didn’t work my case, I heard a little about him and he called my house phone trying to reach Hotch.

To say I was infatuated would be a small understatement.

“Him?” Ryan pointed at him, smiling wider at me.

“Who is this Reid boy and what are his intentions?” Shane folded his arms on the table like a father, looking between Ryan and I.

“I hope it's dirty,” I blurted out, covering my mouth again as I looked at the camera.

“Cut that out,” I started laughing when I heard Shane wheezing beside me.

“No we’re keeping that, that was quality content,” Ryan was laughing, pushing my chair slightly as I slowly joined in.

“I’m so grateful he works a busy job and will never see this,” I started coughing, which made Shane pat my back.

“Please take the obsession back to murder, please and thank you,” I nodded to the case file once everyone has calmed down.

“Okay okay, the cast went cold after that. No new murders ever appeared and the BAU left the case.”

“Spencer went to (Y/N)’s house,” Shane commented quickly.

“Until 2009 when a murder took place right outside of Boston, a couple killed on a hill. While this seemed like nothing at first, an eye was painted on the side of the door and glasses were found on the victim’s face. The glasses belong to Foyet,” Ryan read in his special voice.

“So the dude got bored and was like “Fuck my promise”?” Shane looked between both of us.

“Let him finish,” I patted Shane shoulder, looking at the file again.

“It was later announced to the public that Shaunessy was dead,” Ryan read, looking at Shane with raised eyebrows.

“Ohh, you should have led with that!”

Ryan rolled his eyes, going back to the file in front of him.

“Hotchner took up the case with his BAU team-”

“Spencer had to leave (Y/N)’s house early to get there in time,' ' Shane pushed my shoulder, my finger slowly starting to play with the little ring on my finger.

“I wish,” I spoke up, smiling at Shane when he shook his head.

“The team quickly gathered all the information possible, slowly putting the eye signature on the car with the sign off on the letter.”

“He didn’t sign it xoxo?” Shane asked, I shook my head sadly.

“Sorry to get your hopes up,” I spoke gravely, my mask cracking when Shane started smiling.

“I was readying for him to sign A like that show!”

I started laughing, my hand covering my mouth as Ryan tried to explain the show he was talking about.

“Why do they have to be pretty liars, am I pretty when I lie?”

“No,” I said the words so seriously I was shocked with myself. We all three started laughing suddenly.

I hadn’t been at Buzzfeed long, I had only made a few friends and I pretty much got dragged into the video when they needed a test dummy. This was my first video that didn’t make me want to rip my eyes out, I actually was having a great time with Ryan and Shane with the jokes and all.

“Okay,” Ryan coughed, finally reading the file again,” Many tried to brush it off as a copycat but Agent Hotchner refused to drop the case.”

“That’s my bestie,” I smiled, remembering the photo I had with him when the local news decided to take pictures of us standing outside the station. The photo was awkward and I doubt he even remembered my case but I didn’t really care.

“Then a few hours later an older couple, Arthur and Diane Lanessa, were found stabbed and shot. When the earlier victim, Nina Hale, was found on Diane's wrist, people started to worry.”

“Wait I thought he left the one dude glasses, who is still weird to me,” Shane spoke up again.

“That’s what I’m saying! He had his glasses yet he’s a copycat? Cops can be so stupid,” I rambled, still pissed about that to this day.

“The BAU split up to find Foyet, who went into hiding after his attack, to get more details. Agent Hotchner and Agent David Rossi found him staying in a house in Boston.”

“Why would you stay in Boston?” Ryan was the one to speak this time, his nose scrunched up as he thought it over.

“Right, like yes I almost died here let me stay,” Shane mocked Foyet, which made me laugh.

“Later that night The Reaper boarded a busy bus and killed the occupants of it. Many had theories on why he changed his MO but nobody will confirm or deny.”

“I think he was made at Hotch,” I spoke up. I had thought about this alot.

“Why do you think that?”

“He didn’t quite like Shaunessy, I don’t blame Shaunessy, but still. He stuck around even when he could have walked away,” I crossed my arms, slightly proud of my theory.

“You think he gave the same deal?”

“You don’t?” I looked at Ryan, his arms shrugging before he went back to the case.

“There was a cryptic message left on the side the bus along with the Reaper eye,”

“Cryptic message? Is this real?”

“Unfortunately,” I nodded, looking back to Ryan as he spoke.

“The BAU managed to decipher the code into a line of Foyet addresses-”

“Spender did it!”

“And how would you know?” Shane looked to me, raising his eyebrow at me with a little smirk.

“Because he had an eidetic memory and has an IQ of 187,” I spoke proudly, as if I actually knew the person I was talking about. Okay maybe I searched them on the internet one too many times.

“How do you know that?” Ryan asked, laughing at me now.

“Google,” I shrugged, laughing when Shane looked up from his hands.

“What does he even look like?” I held up my finger, fishing my phone out of my back pocket. I quickly unlocked it, placing my thumb print and moving on, and tapped the searched bar. I quickly typed in his name, thankful it didn’t pop up in purple because I couldn’t handle that much teasing.

“Here,” I placed the phone on the table, laughing when Shane moved closer.

“He has a Wikipedia,” Shane looked over his shoulder at Ryan and I, speaking like a kid on Christmas.

“You both have Wikipedia,” I shrugged, not seeing the appeal of the whole life on display.

“You don’t,” Shane pointed out. I jokily pouted, acting all sad as I looked up to the ceiling.

“We can make you one,” Ryan patted my shoulder laughing when I smiled.

“Can we say I’m married to Doctor Spencer Reid?”

Both nodded at the same time, my hand going over my hand and I laugh at their telekinesis response.

“Okay finished this case so (Y/N) and I can stalk Mr. Reid,” Shane patted Ryan shoulder and I lightly smiled to myself.

He seemed like nothing but I finally made some friends, I mean friends I could talk to outside of work.

“Once they arrived at Foyet house they found gallons of blood pulled from the back of the house.”

“So they killed him?”

“Just wait,” I held my finger up, smiling when Shane deflated slightly.

“Multiple police were attacked, even Derek Morgan with the BAU. The specific are not out to the public but a nurse claimed that The Reaper stole Morgan credentials,” Ryan read off the paper, smiling when Shane gasped.

“That’s insane, this case is insane!”

I laughed along with Ryan, all of ours eye scanning over the paper now and we waited for the next bit of information.

“After looking over past cases filed, the BAU were confused on why The Reaper would kill Foyet. Their tech analysis did research to induce that Foyet had multiple aliases, claimed he had them to feel safe from The Reaper, actually had multiple assault charges, and his parents were killed when he was six.”

“Oh my, he killed them didn’t he!” Ryan and I both nodded, Shane’s hands flying up to his hair as he looked between us.

“It was him the whole time! No way!”

“That’s what I said,'' I looked into the camera for the first time in awhile, it felt nice and easy with them. The video was coming easy unlike trying to do awkward yoga poses with strangers.

“They managed to trace everything back to Foyet, concluding he was The Reaper. After more research, Foyet’s phone was tracked to Roy Colson's house. A journalist would recently wrote an article on The Reaper.``

“This feels like a Scooby-Doo mission at this point,” Shane sounded out of breath, looking to the camera with wide eyes.

“We got some work to do now!” I jokily sang the theme song, making the two laugh lightly before moving on to the end of the case.

“The local police arrest Foyet at the house, Colson thankful survived. Foyet was taken to prison immediately after arrest.”

“I thought they lost him?”

“If you don’t let him finish,” I joked, Shane laughed as we finally let Ryan finish.

“Foyet was found in his cell later throwing up blood and convulsions. As being rushed to the hospital, the ambulance was ambushed and Foyet escaped. No more information has been released on the whereabouts of Foyet.”

“They really lost him!”

Shane was in shock at the discovery, my hand covering my mouth quickly before I answered.

“I bet he’s working for the FBI, they hire people when they’re too dangerous.” I tried my best to be serious about the theory but I knew my smile was peaking thought.

“He’s probably the BAU’s personal hitman!”

I laughed with Ryan, my chair had slowly moved closer to his as I kept leaning to see the case file.

“Where do you think Foyet it?”Ryan spoke into the camera, talking to the people that would watch this in a few weeks.

“I think (Y/N) should call her smarty-pants husband and ask,” Shane spit out his last joke before the video ended.

“Yeah, Doctor Spencer Reid please call me with information about the case.” I pointed into the camera like Uncle Sam and winked dramatically.

“He doesn’t have your number,” Ryan reminded me. I let my finger fall, thinking over my words before I pointed back at the camera.

“Email my business email,” I nodded. Shane and Ryan both hit my shoulder. both hands going to my arm to cover them.

“Say bye to our favorite guest ever,” Ryan waved in my face.

“Bye!”

I laughed as the video played on my laptop, laughing when my voice was replaced with light green words floating on the screen. I scrolled down lightly, reading a bunch of comments. I smiled when most were asking if I would ever be on another Unsolved.

My phone went off beside me, my hand reaching for it as I paused the video and moved to my email. I was waiting for an email about an article I was writing and I couldn’t stop hitting refresh.

Shane: i’ve seen two ship edits of (y/n) and spencer reid on my instagram already

Ryan: i saw an edit of shane fall out a chair

I laughed at the messages, the group chat the three of us had formed titled “The Reapers Bitches” never stopped as we had grown a close bond.

I heard the little ding from my laptop, also most screaming when I slammed the refresh button and screamed when I saw an email with a little unread dot beside it.

I didn’t think twice, pushing the email and reading over it quickly.

From: reidemail@gmail.com

Hello, this is Doctor Spencer Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I recently saw a video of you mentioning me and my team about a case we worked on a few years back. While I legally can’t share any details with you in this case, I would be open to speaking with others. Please email me back!

I was going to scream, maybe cry, maybe both at this point. I read the email two or three more times, trying to comprehend what I just read.

He did see, shit he did see it. I heard my phone going off beside me, my hand picking it up and typing without reading what they were saying before.

Me: Spencer Fucking Reid just emailed me

I let my phone fall to my lap, reading the email one more time.

“Thank you Buzzfeed Unsolved,” I whispered under my breath.

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[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Memories of Summer Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 忆夏之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

References are made to the following unreleased and likely cancelled content, so please read them before this date, or you might get lost at certain parts:

> R&S - Stunning Young Idol

> R&S - Youthhood

> Greenhouse Date (IMPORTANT)

There’s a call BEFORE the date: here

[ This date was released in CN on 21 October 2020 ]

[ PRESENT - Location: MC’s house ]

MC: All right, I’ve read through the scrapbook. Are you satisfied now? 

Kiro and I are sitting shoulder to shoulder, flipping to the last page of the scrapbook. 

Kiro : Did you leave something out? 

MC: Hm? Did I miss out an itinerary?

Kiro takes up a pen. In the blank space on the page, he draws a slightly crooked, but adorable teddy bear. 

Next to it, he draws a speech bubble: “I have a secret to tell you!”

-

[ FLASHBACK - Location: MC’s house ]

“I have a secret to tell you”...

MC: ...

While absent-mindedly having my breakfast, I ponder on what Kiro’s “secret” could be.

A few days ago, I suddenly received a call from Kiro while he was filming outdoors. We agreed that today would be left entirely up to his arrangements.

"Ding dong--”

MC: Coming, coming!

I run over and pull the door open. Behind the door stands Kiro, wearing a baseball cap and looking very relaxed. Several strands of golden coloured hair disobediently curl upwards underneath the brim of his hat. 

When he sees me, he immediately reveals a happy smile. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, are you ready? We can set out!

MC: You haven’t told me where we’re going?

Kiro: Since it’s a secret, how could I divulge it from the start?

He shakes his head firmly, and even uses his fingers to make a ‘X’ in front of his mouth.

Kiro: This time, I’m not going to soften my heart and divulge it to you first!

MC: All right...

Seeing how he’s rarely this serious, all you can do is smile and agree.

This “secret” - it’s probably a visit to another secret haunt to view the scenery, right? 

Kiro: You definitely wouldn’t be able to guess it this time!

He blinks and grabs one of my hands, his tone as lively as a dancing musical note.

Your mood is also influenced by his, and the corners of your lips involuntarily tug upwards. 

MC: I’ll just wait and see then?

Kiro: In the name of donuts, I guarantee that you’ll definitely like it!

Even though the sky outside the window is filled with dark clouds, Kiro’s smiling face seems to light up all of the gloom.

No matter where we go, and no matter what view we see, as long as we’re together, it’s good enough.

--At least, that’s what I initially thought.

-

[ Location: Kiro’s car ]

MC: Where exactly are we going? 

When I notice the car gradually ambling onto an empty trail in the outskirts, the confusion in my heart becomes more evident.

Pattering raindrops continuously pelt onto the window of the car. Outside the window are large plains of greenery which are being cleansed by the rain. 

Kiro turns his head to look at me, and it’s as though his eyes are filled with stars. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, I once promised that I’d give you a garden belonging just to us. 

Along with Kiro’s voice, a small garden teeming with blooming flowers appears in our line of sight.

It’s only after a few seconds that I finally internalise the meaning of his words, and my eyes widen.

MC: W...what do you mean? Are you saying...

Kiro: That’s right. This garden belongs to us now. 

Without waiting for me to continue guessing, he nods in acknowledgement. 

Kiro: When I was filming, a friend said he wanted to dispose of a small garden. So I bought it from him.

MC: But... but...

Even after several “but”s, I still can’t think of what to say. Should I rebuke him for squandering money to buy this garden, or tell him that he didn’t have to take my words literally back then?

Meanwhile, Kiro animatedly introduces the garden to me. 

Kiro: Even though the garden isn’t large, it’s pretty near the city. And it has a very beautiful glass greenhouse! The first time I saw the photograph, I felt it was very suited for us. When we’re free next time, we can have a vacation here. This is a “secret haunt” belonging to the two of us!

Noticing that I haven’t responded even after a while, Kiro slows down.

Kiro: What’s wrong, Miss Chips? You don’t like it?

MC: I...

Kiro stares at me anxiously, as though the moment I shake my head, his eyes would reveal a grieved expression.

When I think about his kind intentions, my heart softens. 

MC: I like it very much. Really, I’m incredibly happy!

His blue eyes are once again ignited with a radiant light. Kiro suddenly chuckles and leans over. 

Before I can react, I feel a gentle sensation on my cheek. When his lips make contact with my cheek before pulling away, there’s a soft sound.

Kiro: It’s great that you like it.

MC: [blushing] ...

In contrast to my stunned state with my mouth hanging open slightly, he looks especially at ease.

Kiro: Miss Chips, what’s wrong? 

MC: [blushing] N-nothing.

You face away, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of that gentle touch. But your heart rate is unable to calm down.

And you don’t notice the widening smile on Kiro’s lips.

While talking, the car reaches its destination.

Kiro: We’re here! Let’s get out of the car!

Kiro leaves the car first, holding an umbrella. Then, he walks over to my side and pulls the door open. 

-

[ Location: Forested area ]

Damp air accompanies the summer wind. Not too far off, the garden, which sits in the midst of mountains and forests, is reminiscent of a scenery framed in a painting.

Purplish-blue morning glories climb and entwine around bamboo fences, embellishing the curtain of drizzling rain with heart-stirring vibrance. 

MC: How beautiful...

The anticipation I harbour for the garden has reached its peak. Similarly, Kiro also pulls me towards it in anticipation. 

-

[ Location: Garden ]

When we draw nearer, we discover that the garden doesn’t seem to have been tended to for an extremely long time. Even the glass greenhouse is filled with junk, and is in disarray. 

The image in our heads - a small, romantic, yet beautiful garden flourishing with blooming flowers - is shattered in an instant. 

Kiro: Why does it look completely from what I imagined...

Kiro walks around the garden, frowning as he looks at me apologetically.

Kiro: I’m sorry, Miss Chips. I should have asked someone to tidy the place properly before bringing you here. 

MC: There’s no need to apologise. 

I place my hands on both sides of his face. Before he can react, I knead his cheeks with my palms. 

Kiro: ...mm?

MC: I think it’d be even more meaningful if we decorate the garden ourselves. We can write our names on this garden together.

Kiro is stunned for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. Then, a smile appears on his face. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, you’re right! This is a garden belonging to us.

-

I originally thought that tidying up the greenhouse would be an insipid affair. But I didn’t expect that we’d turn it into a treasure hunt. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, look at what I found!

Peering in his direction, I see Kiro squatting in front of a large paper box filled with various bits and bobs. In his hand is a beautiful glass bottle. 

Along with the swaying of the bottle, the glass beads in it channel tinkling sounds.

MC: It’s ramune!

[Trivia] Ramune is a Japanese carbonated soft drink

I lean over, realising that the box contains several more of such bottles. They’ve been washed and stored away by the original owner.

MC: Last time, I couldn’t bear to throw the bottles away after drinking them. But I’d always get sprayed whenever I open them...

Just recalling the uncontrollable spurting leaves me with a twinge of lingering trepidation. 

Kiro: It’s actually very simple. Press down on the cap for a while longer, and wait for the fizziness to go away before removing your finger from it. When I was schooling, I’d buy this whenever summer arrived.

Kiro sounds very familiar with it, his eyes brimming with longing.

His words also transport me back to my earlier years: summer days, late afternoons, and ice-cold ramune.

MC: Looks like we’re the same. Actually, it doesn’t taste that good, but the way to open it is really interesting!

Kiro and I exchange a glance, and we burst into laughter. 

Kiro: Actually... I still think cola tastes better!

While chatting, we clear out the soda bottles together. There are still various things in the box: lego toys with missing parts, incomplete jigsaw puzzles...

And a metal box filled with tiny paper slips. The words on the slips are unclear, but you can vaguely read them--

“Lend me your homework”, “Why is teacher dismissing class late again”, “Let’s go home together after school”, “I’m on cleaning duty today”...

MC: Pfft...

As I flip through the slips of paper, I laugh without restraint. Curious, Kiro takes a look at the slips. 

Kiro: Oh, they’re short notes! How nostalgic. Many people used to give me short notes during class last time too!

MC: Eh, really? 

I cast him a doubtful glance. Kiro pretends to be indignant as he looks at me, eyes wide.

Kiro: Of course - I’m Kiro! But I didn’t respond to every single note... apart from yours. I’ll always keep the notes you write to me.

After saying this, he suddenly makes a fist with one hand and places it on his other palm.

Kiro: Oh yes, I have to find a box for them when I get home too!

I pause for a while, unable to think of any important notes you wrote to him.

MC: You’re referring to those normal memos, right? 

Kiro: They’re still memories belonging to us. 

He cuts me off. His eyes sparkle, reminiscent of a little squirrel which has found a pine cone.

Kiro: I can remember all the important things, but it’s more difficult to remember the more trivial ones. But every minute and every second with you - I don’t want to forget them. They could even be left as family heirlooms!

MC: How could they be family heirlooms...

Kiro: Of course they can! Next time, we’ll tell them that the box contains the dribs and drabs belonging to me and the cutest girl in the world. Each note records a story. And each story is an important treasure. 

I open my mouth, but forget how to speak.

In his voice, I seem to envisage a scene from the future. 

My heart beats rapidly. I hurriedly lower my head, leafing through a random sketchbook in my hand. 

The sketchbook contains a drawing of a girl’s side profile done in clean brush strokes. As I flip through the following pages, I find that the entire book contains the same person in different situations. 

Kiro: Ohh, he definitely has a secret crush on her!

Miss Chips: Yeah, this should be very precious to him.

The thin sketchbook in your hands seems to shoulder the weight of memories. You carefully place it at the side, prepared to return it to its owner. All of a sudden, you hear Kiro speak.

Kiro: Miss Chips, have I ever told you about my high school days? 

You shake your head, recollecting the interviews and articles written about him before he returned to the country.

MC: I know a little. You attended high school in America, and even formed a band. Then, you successfully signed on with Warner Brothers... In the end, you entered Berkeley University with excellent results. All the articles said that you were an exceptionally serious and hardworking person. 

Kiro: So you already knew about it... However, I wasn’t necessarily that “sweet boy” mentioned in the articles!

The corners of his lips tug upwards, his expression carrying with it an almost imperceptible playfulness and ease.

Kiro: At that time, I was actually a little rebellious. I was filled with curiosity about the world, and wanted to try everything. 

Kiro: My band also tried all sorts of styles, because it’d be so boring if we only stuck to one! 

Kiro: You definitely didn’t know that I secretly played truant. Pei En and I... ah, he was my bandmate. When we had performances, we’d often go out to have fun behind our agent’s back. 

Kiro: I even researched how to sneak donuts into the performance venue...

The Kiro he’s talking about is a little foreign, but my curiosity is stirred up.

The Kiro of back then - was he really like that? 

Kiro: ...but there was one thing I didn’t try back then. 

With this, he suddenly stops and looks at me. 

MC: What was it? 

I blink in puzzlement. With a smile curling up his lips, he suddenly leans close to my ear. His lips brush against my ear, and I can almost feel their ridges. 

Kiro: I didn’t try liking a person. Do you think it’s because I hadn’t met you yet?

Every syllable, accompanied by his breath, rushes into my ear. 

The citrusy scent from the soda bottles lingers in the air - sour and sweet, just like those young and inexperienced years. 

My free hand is gripped by Kiro.

Subconsciously, I tighten my hold on his fingers, and I respond without much thought. 

MC: [blushing] At that time... you should have been studying!

Kiro: ...you’re right. 

The warm atmosphere vanishes in an instant. Kiro releases a sigh and fumes slightly, but it disappears quickly. 

Kiro: [sighs] Miss Chips, you’re really slow. 

He mutters something softly, but I pretend not to hear him and continue clearing out the items with my head lowered. My face feels like its burning.

-

Very soon, the junk in the greenhouse are cleared away. Kiro is currently tidying the messy wires, and I’m carrying an umbrella and the items to be disposed, leaving the greenhouse. 

MC: I’m heading out to throw the rubbish away. 

It’s still drizzling outside. By the time I toss the rubbish at the crossing, the drizzle grows heavier. As such, I follow a small trail and run back.

Passing through the stone path to the garden, I turn at a bend and step across a puddle. When I lift my head, I see Kiro sitting at the glass pavilion.

He’s barefoot, gazing at the path I had set out on, as though waiting for me to return.

Rain patters continuously around the pavilion. The morning glories which entwine around it are encased with water vapour.

Everything is hazy. Only his colours are especially distinct.

He doesn’t seem to care at all when the water droplets pelt onto him. He looks happy and content.

MC: Kiro!

My voice shatters the picture-like image before me. Kiro whips his head around in response, shock flashing across his features. 

Kiro: Eh? Miss Chips, why did you appear from this side?

MC: Because it’s much nearer. Were you waiting for me? 

With a sound of acknowledgement, Kiro raises something in his hand happily, showing it off as though he found a treasure. 

Kiro: Look at what I found! 

In his hand is a harmonica, and the logo on it looks incredibly familiar.

MC: In junior middle high, I think I had a harmonica with the same brand...

I walk over to the pavilion. Like Kiro, I remove my shoes and squeeze underneath the tiny pavilion with him, our shoulders touching.

Kiro pulls me even closer, preventing water from the eaves from pelting onto my shoulder.

The pattering water droplets continuously pelt onto our bare feet. The relaxing and cooling sensation enters the depths of our hearts.

- 

The rain persists even after a while. Kiro and I are hiding in the pavilion. Coincidentally, we have a full, unobstructed view of the entire garden.

I take a careful look at the harmonica in his hand. It has been washed clean, and the marks of years gone by linger on its body.

MC: Does it still work?

Kiro: Mm, I just tried it. It still makes sounds. 

With this, Kiro looks at me confidently.

Kiro: I said that I wasn’t good at playing the harmonica before. Afterwards, I specially practised it! This time, I’ll definitely play it even more amazingly than the last time!

MC: Cough cough. Actually, I didn’t mention this the last time - when I learnt the harmonica in junior high, the teacher complimented me for having a natural talent!

After saying this, I have a twinge of guilt. Because since then, it’s been a long time since I even touched a harmonica.

Kiro: Really? Miss Chips, you’re amazing!

Kiro’s eyes are shining as he looks at me. I lift up my chin ‘modestly’.

MC: I was so-so.

Kiro: Boasting might make your nose grow longer.

I subconsciously touch the tip of my nose, but react in time.

MC: It’d only grow longer when you tell a lie, right?

Kiro: Is that so? 

He elongates his words, widening his eyes and pretending to be silly. 

Kiro: In that case, I’ll play a song first to get the ball rolling.

Without much preparation, Kiro brings the harmonica to his lips. After adjusting his breathing, he blows the first note. 

“Du--”

My eyes widen in astonishment, not expecting that he really meant it when he said he “wasn’t good at playing it.”

Noticing my expression, Kiro arches one of his brows, as though telling me not to underestimate him.

At this moment, several musical notes form a smooth melody.

It’s a tune I’ve never heard before. Along with the rhythm created by the rain, it drifts over in a tranquil and mellifluous manner.

Kiro has his head half lowered, his lips moving from time to time along the harmonica. His expression has turned quiet, as though immersing himself in the world of music. 

Every time I see such a Kiro, I’ll always feel that he genuinely loves music with a fiery passion.

Soon, the melody ends. Before I fully extricate myself from the music, Kiro is already turning towards me with a satisfied look on his face.

Kiro: How was it? It’s a new song I’ve been trying recently.

MC: Hold on... are you really not good at it 

Kiro: After we performed together the other time, I re-discovered the joy in it!

He chuckles. He uses a tissue to wipe the harmonica clean, then hands it to me. 

Kiro: Now it’s your turn, Miss Chips.

MC: I’ll start off by saying that it’s been many years since I last played. 

I speak timidly, taking the harmonica.

MC: Let me see... I’ll play “Farewell” then.

Kiro nods. He holds his chin with a hand, his clear eyes gazing at me, waiting for my performance seriously.

I take a deep breath, placing my lips on the harmonica, which still has his lingering warmth on it. After a moment of hesitation, I blow the first note. 

“Su--”

I subconsciously look at Kiro’s expression. There isn’t a hint of ridicule in his eyes. Instead, they are filled with encouragement and trust. 

Hence, I continue pressing on, completing the simple melody.

Originally thinking that I had more or less forgotten it, memories from the past slowly surface before my eyes, enabling the melody to become fluent gradually.

My eyes flutter shut as well, basking in the delight of the moment where music and memories interlace.

After playing the final note, Kiro starts applauding.

Kiro: I didn’t expect Miss Chips to play so well even after such a long time!

Every time Kiro compliments someone, he’s always especially sincere. Seeing his awe and commendation, I start to feel embarrassed.

MC: Actually, I only know how to play a few songs...

Kiro: That’s already very amazing! Sometimes, I think about how great it’d be if I could travel through time.

MC: Why do you say that? 

Kiro: Because that way, I’d be able to know you in junior middle high.

He doesn’t seem to be joking. His gaze is focused on me, as though imagining how I looked like in junior middle high.

Kiro: Then, I’d be your seat mate, and give you lots of little notes during class. In summer, I’d buy two bottles of ice-cold ramune and wait for you before heading home together...

Kiro: [sighs] I really want to participate in your past: junior middle high, high school, university... all those long years.

Kiro: Fortunately, I can still participate in your present and future. 

His voice merges with the flavour of summer, and the sound of my heart beating against my chest resembles the song of cicadas, unable to be halted.

Unable to control my emotions, I instinctively want to avert my eyes. At the same time, however, I don’t want to keep avoiding things out of embarrassment like I did earlier.

I’m at a loss, so I simply lift the edges of my lips, giving him a small smile.

MC: All right, we’ll start from our garden.

And it’d span across the rest of our lives. From now till the future, everything will be given to him.

Kiro: Mm, I’ve got it!

Kiro beams with joy. He takes one of my hands in his and grips it tightly, as though he’ll never let go again.

By this time, the rain has already stopped. The summer heat in the air has long since dissipated, leaving behind the freshness of rain. 

This tiny greenhouse isn’t very exquisite, but the wilfully growing plants give it a rustic charm. After the rain, the lush flowers appear vibrant.

We step out of the pavilion and into the garden. Only now do I truly feel like this garden belongs to us.

Kiro: What type of flowers should we plant next time? What do you like? Roses... daisies... freesias...

MC: They’re all fine. We can plant different types of flowers. This way, there’ll be flowers blooming in every season. We can even buy a glass tea set so we can sit in the greenhouse and appreciate the flowers over tea.

Kiro: We’ll also have a rocking chair. When we’re old, we can sit here and enjoy the moment.

Based on the garden in our imagination, we start conceptualising and planning how it’d look like in the future.

When we reach the glass greenhouse, I look at the empty door and realise that something is missing.

Kiro: Over here, we need to hang a door plate.

Suddenly, Kiro retrieves a small wooden board from behind the door. Not knowing when he did it, the wooden board already has our names written on it. 

-- Kiro’s & Miss Chips’ Garden.

MC: When did you prepare this? 

Kiro: When you left just now. Now, I’ll leave the important task of hanging up the door plate to you!

Looking at the familiar handwriting on the wooden board, there’s a heaviness in a certain area in my heart. Perhaps that area already stores a flourishing garden filled with blooming flowers.

I tiptoe, hanging the wooden board on a nail, then look at it from left to right.

MC: Done!

Satisfied, I clap my hands together and turn around. Taken by surprise, I see a bouquet of white freesias, their petals dotted with water droplets.

The other end of the bouquet is held by Kiro. His eyes contain a bright smile. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, this is for you. This is the first bouquet in our garden!

He pauses for a while, his tone turning serious. 

Kiro: Next time, all the flowers here will be given to you, and only you.

My mouth hangs open. My heart rate speeds up in an unnatural manner. The blooming flowers seem to replicate the splendour of midsummer.

[Trivia] White freesias symbolise purity and innocence, and are the most popular wedding flowers because they are symbolic of the purity of the bride as well as the trust between the couple :’D

I take the freesias, which have been tied together simply with a ribbon, holding them to my chest like a treasure.

MC: I like it very much, thank you!

Kiro: I really want to do one thing right now!

Kiro suddenly stretches out his arms, bringing both me and the flowers into his arms. The summer-like heat encases me in an instant. 

While I’m still at a loss, I feel my feet being lifted off the ground as Kiro carries and spins me around several times.

MC: Whoa, hold on!

Kiro: [laughs] I can’t wait any longer!

He chuckles while setting me down. His eyes are filled with the colours of unconcealed happiness. Then, he offers his hand to me. 

Kiro: Do you still remember the dance we did before? 

I recall the “dance” we did the last time in a greenhouse, where I was spun around till I was dizzy. I shake my head vigorously.

MC: I don’t remember!

Kiro: Liar.

Seeing his slightly aggrieved expression, I smile and place my hand gently on his palm. Then, he playfully hooks his fingers with mine.

All of a sudden, the dark clouds accumulated in the sky are blown away by the wind. Rays of light from afar reach us, illuminating the entire garden.

The scintillating light dances on the tips of Kiro’s golden coloured hair, and my vision is completely taken over by his smiling face. 

It can no longer hold anything else.

Kiro: Let’s dance!

I’m pulled closer to Kiro, and he takes my head, lifting it over my head.

MC: Are we going to dance right here? 

I can’t help but laugh. Cooperating with him, I tiptoe and twirl around. Then, he draws me into his arms.

Kiro leans his chin on my shoulder. The breath he exhales stirs up stray hairs on the side of my neck.

I can’t see the expression on his face, but hear his incredibly gentle voice in my ear, imbued with overwhelming sweetness.

Kiro: Miss Chips--

-

[ PRESENT - Location: MC’s house ]

Kiro: All right, that should be it. The only thing left is to paste that photograph we took at the garden. Hmm... we can also consider making dried flowers using the flowers in every season, and keep them here...

Kiro sets down the pen, casting an earnest look at the mostly empty book, as though he has come to a decision.

My gaze lingers on the phrase he just wrote down.

The adorable teddy bear is waving at me from the book. The speech bubble is drawn seriously, and there’s an arrow pointing at the next page.

The ink left behind by Kiro has yet to dry completely. His voice in my memory and the short phrase blend together, creating a drawn out sweetness in my heart. 

“Miss Chips, will you give your future to me?”

--

💐 MOMENTS 💐

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Why do you suddenly want to fulfil people’s wishes?

Kiro: Because I want to know what your wish is!

-

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Could I wish for three more wishes?

Kiro: If it’s Miss Chips, even a thousand or ten thousand wishes are okay.

-

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Looks like I’m the first one?

Kiro: Mm! Actually, you’re the only one.

--

Call after the date: here

[myforlornplace]

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[swanqueeneverafter]

Sins of the Past Pt.26

Wonderland. Lizard's Home. (While the streets are filled with people celebrating the Caterpillar’s arrest, Lizard stands staring out of her window wistfully as Will enters.) Lizard: “Are you enjoying yourself?” Will: (Staggers:) “It might be the best night of my life. They’ve arrested the Caterpillar and his goons. I’m a free man.” Lizard: (Smiles:) “I heard.” Will: (Closing the door:) “Which begs the question what are you doing in here all by yourself? (Lizard says nothing:) Oh, I get it. I think I understand what's going on here. (Walks over to her and speaks in her ear:) You fancy someone. I knew it! All right. Out with it. Name the lucky bloke out there who caught your eye.” Lizard: “I'll never tell.” (Lizard gets up and walks to the other side of the room.) Will: “Hang on, I’m Mr. Fix It. I know a thing or two about helping women in love get what they want.” Lizard: (Scoffs:) “You can't make anyone fall in love with me.” Will: “Well no, but I can help in other ways, make him notice you. I mean really notice you.” Lizard: “Well, you tell me, then. (Pokes him in the chest playfully:) What makes you notice a girl?” Will: “Me? Let me think...confidence. Confidence is a terribly sexy quality in a woman.” Lizard: “All right. What else?” (She circles him.) Will: “Passion. Spontaneity. Willing to take chances, explore new places, and style. She should really know how to wear a dress. And a naughty streak don't hurt. But it all comes down to this; when I see her, it feels like fireworks are going off.” Lizard: “Fireworks?” Will: “Fireworks. Because without that, there's nothing.” Lizard: “All right, then. I want that. I want all of that.” (Lizard reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small red diamond.) Will: “What’s that?” Lizard: (Holding up the diamond:) “This is my wish. The Oracle gave this to me as payment for bringing Ella to her.” Will: “She what?” Lizard: “And now I’m going to use it to make my dreams come true.” Will: “Lizard, wait! (Lizard closes her eyes and squeezes her hand tightly around the wish. Disappearing and then reappearing in a cloud of smoke, Lizard stands before Will wearing a beautiful white dress. Impressed:) All right, then. Let's go out there and show these lads the girl they've been missing.” Lizard: “I'd rather stay in here.” Will: “Oh, come on! What are you so afraid of?” Lizard: (Walks closer to him:) “I'm afraid that the man I like doesn't feel about me the way I feel about him.” Will: “Have you seen yourself? He'd be a complete and utter idiot, and blind to boot. If you don't want to go out there, I'll bring him back here for you.” Lizard: (Will moves to the door:) “No. Wait.” Will: “Tell me who he is, then.” Lizard: “It's you, Will. It's always been you.” 

(Will stares at her then drops his head. Lizard walks over to her bed and takes a seat.) Will: “I guess I was right. The bloke you fancy is a complete and utter idiot. Lizard, I'm sorry.” Lizard: “No. It's all right. I'm fine, really.” Will: “Look, you know I like you. I always have. You're a terrific mate, and we've always had the best times together. It's just -” Lizard: “You don't love me.” Will: “It's not just that- (Will stares at Lizard as she suddenly struggles to breathe:) What's happening?” Lizard: (Gasping for air:) “It’s...it’s the wish!” Will: (Catching her as she falls:) “Take it back!” Lizard: “Will!” Will: “No! No! No! No! No! No! Please, no! Liz! Liz! No!” Lizard: (Lying in his arms:) “I just wanted you to feel something for me.” Will: “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. (Lizard dies:) Liz! No! I'm sorry.” (Will rocks her in his arms while fireworks illuminate the sky outside the window.)

Storybrooke. Rollin' Bayou. Opposite The Dragon’s Lair. (A montage of Tiana cooking inside the food truck. Cracking eggs into a bowl then whisking, adding flour and then kneading the dough. Using a pastry wheel to cut the shapes and then deep frying. Topping with sugar and then placing in paper bags to order, Tiana smiles and wipes her brow.) Ella: “Where is everyone coming from?” Tiana: “Location, Location, Location. Mom always said nothin' attracts a crowd like a crowd.” Ella: “Amazing! You're really doing it.” Tiana: “Mm-hmm.” Ella: “You know we could set up a stand at the Sunday farmers' market.” Tiana: “Oh, meh. Farmers' markets are for Old MacDonald. No. I'm thinking jazz, luring people in to a popcorn-light-lit food truck. We park it at festivals and movie nights.” Ella: “Okay.” Tiana: “And then serve étouffée and boudin.” Ella: (Holds up a bag of beignets:) “Buckets of these guys.” Tiana: “Yes. (Both laugh:) Oh, it finally feels like we are headed in the right direction.” Ella: “You're a dreamer, and I love you for it, and god knows I need a job.” Tiana: “Uh huh and that is exactly the reason why you need to take this risk. We’ll get you a truck of your own that’ll be your responsibility. It's time to change the game and take a big swing for once. You owe it to yourself. You owe it to your Mama, wherever she may be. Come on. Let's make her proud.” Ella: (Falters then after a moment, smiles:) “Okay. I'm with you.” Tiana: “Yeah? All right. (Laughs:) Great. And with a little bit of sugar and spice and everything nice, we are going to show everyone who is boss.” (While Tiana deals with the customers, Ella takes a step back, the words ‘make her proud’ echoing in her ears. With her career path seemingly laid out in front of her, Ella is more determined than ever to confront Regina once and for all.) The Dragon's Lair. (Lily enters the bar. Noting that the tables and chairs have been rearranged and a stage has been erected, Lily makes her way over to the bar and takes a seat.) Zelena: "Lily, we didn't expect to see you tonight." Lily: "And miss Regina on stage? Not likely." Zelena: "I'm surprised Elsa let you out." Lily: (Smiles:) "I’m surprised my Mom agreed to you adding a stage to the bar in addition to the restaurant.” Zelena: (Zelena winks:) “Bet you’re not surprised Regina agreed to be the very first act on the new stage though.” Lily: “Well, as far as Elsa goes, she's not a big drinker and she figured with Emma and Regina around, this is the safest place I could be." Zelena: "She has a point. Although you can obviously take care of yourself." Lily: "That's what I told her. Anyway, I think those two are only gonna have eyes for each other tonight." (Maleficent stands on stage and manages to quieten the rowdy crowd with a glare.) Maleficent: "Ladies and Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, the Dragon's Lair is proud to present Storybrooke's hottest Mayor, Regina Swan-Mills!" (Maleficent leaves the stage as Regina rises from beneath and the lights dim. With the spotlight shining upon her, Regina begins.) Regina: ♪ Come on, babe, why don't we paint the town. ♪ ♪ And all that jazz?♪ ♪ I'm gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down ♪ ♪ And all that jazz ♪ ♪ Start the car, I know a whoopee spot ♪ ♪ Where the gin is cold, but the piano's hot ♪ ♪ It's just a noisy hall where there's a nightly brawl ♪ ♪ And all ♪ ♪ That ♪ ♪ Jazz ♪ (As promised, Emma watches from the crowd front row, center. The Sheriff is unable to take her eyes away from her wife while she sings and gyrates on stage. With a huge smile, Emma makes eye contact with Regina as she continues her song.) ♪ Slick your hair and wear your buckle shoes ♪ ♪ And all that jazz ♪ ♪ I hear that Father Dipis gonna blow the blues ♪ ♪ And all that jazz ♪ ♪ Hold on, hon, we're gonna bunny hug ♪ ♪ I bought some aspirin down at United Drug ♪ ♪ In case you shake apart and want a brand-new start ♪ ♪ To do ♪ ♪ That ♪ ♪ Jazz! ♪

Idirsholas. (Lancelot’s party rides for the fortress and enters the ruins. The knights spread out, their weapons drawn.) Lancelot: "What’s that noise?" Xena: "What noise?" Lancelot: "A sort of trembling sound." Xena: "That’s your knees knocking together." (Xena and Gabrielle move ahead while Lancelot rolls his eyes. They enter the chamber in the fortress where the knights were awoken. Lancelot checks the ashes of the fire.) Lancelot: “It seems part of Joseph’s story was true. Probably just travellers passing through.” (Gabrielle turns her head back toward the entrance.) Gabrielle: “Or maybe not.” (Everyone turns as the Knights of Idirsholas draw their swords. Xena, Gabrielle, Lancelot and the others fight the knights. Xena runs one through, but it doesn’t fall. Fight, stab, repeat. Lancelot loses his sword in an undead knight’s gut.) Sir Leon: “Lancelot!” (Leon throws Lancelot a sword.) Xena: (Slashes at two knights with little effect:) “This isn’t working!” Gabrielle: “We need to go! (Lancelot and his men retreat. Gabrielle follows but stops when she sees Xena standing there:) What are you…?!” (Xena throws her chakram, causing the roof to cave in as it bounces off the walls. Catching the chakram, Gabrielle pulls Xena backwards out of the room while the entrance way crumbles.)

Kingdom of Valencia. Dining Room. (Richard, Roberta, Henry and a very embarrassed Gareth have dinner together.) Gareth: (Clears his throat:) “I’d like to thank you for exposing this attack on our state. Once again, magic was used to strike at the heart of Valencia.” Roberta: (Tad Cooper resting on her arm:) “You mean, your heart.” Richard: “How many nights did you share a bed with a troll?” Gareth: “Obviously I was under its spell. (Richard sniggers:) I did many things that I…regret.” Henry: “Gareth, that’s okay, I’m sure we really don’t want to know the details.” (There is quiet for a moment before everyone laughs, Richard pulling faces to mimic Gareth’s moment of clarity. Eventually, despite himself, Gareth finds the funny side of things and joins in with the laughter.) Wonderland. Town. (Walking through the now deserted streets, Anastasia arrives at Lizard's home and enters through the open door. Seeing the girl's body on the floor, Anastasia rushes over to check her pulse. Feeling nothing, she closes Lizard's eyes and leans back on her haunches.) Will: "It's my fault. (Startled, Anastasia turns to look at Will who sits in the shadows:) She wished that I could love her and when I couldn't, she..." Anastasia: "Will, what are you talking about? People don't just keel over and die from rejection." Will: "It was her dying wish." Anastasia: (Moving over to him:) "Will, snap out of it. You're not making any sense."

Will: (Sighs:) "Lizard used a wish she got from an Oracle." (Will holds up the small diamond between his thumb and forefinger. Taking it, Anastasia inspects it closely.) Anastasia: "Before Lizard used this, did it glow red?" Will: "Yeah." Anastasia: (Nods:) "It was cursed. It didn't matter what wish Lizard made, as soon as she used the diamond, she was done for." Will: "Why would the Oracle do that to her?" Anastasia: "My guess? To cover their tracks. The Oracle must not have wanted Lizard to identify them for some reason." Will: "Aye, and I think I know why. Ella went to see this Oracle and they told her that someone killed her mother." Anastasia: "Who?" Will: (Shakes his head:) "She wouldn't say. We got separated soon afterwards. I think Ella's going to do something stupid and there's no way I can stop her." Anastasia: "All right, well first thing's first. We need to see what Ella saw. (Anastasia walks over to Lizard's body and kneels beside it:) There's a spell I can use that can show us everything Lizard saw during her last few hours. If we get lucky, maybe we can see who this supposed Oracle was." Storybrooke. Forest. (With Mordred still believed to be hiding within Storybrooke's borders, Ruby and Mulan prepare for a long night’s shift sitting by their campfire.) Mulan: "Do you ever wonder what your life would've been like if you had a normal childhood?" Ruby: (Considers:) "There probably would've been a lot less running involved. (At Mulan’s look:) My entire village ran me out of town.” Mulan: “Really?” Ruby: “With torches and pitchforks.” Mulan: “Because you're a wolf?” Ruby: “I didn't always know I was, and I certainly didn't back then. I wasn't in control. And one night, I accidentally...” Mulan: “Killed your boyfriend, I know.” Ruby: “Yeah. I lived on the run after that, and... I eventually learned to control my power, made some friends along the way. I ended up in Storybrooke, but I still felt like there was something missing.” Mulan: (Smiles:) “You’re such a Gabrielle.” Ruby: (Scoffs:) “Well not everyone gets to take our father’s place and fight in the Chinese army as a teenager. (Laughs but notices Mulan doesn’t join in:) Mulan, what's wrong?” Mulan: “I didn’t replace my father. My father left us when I was still a young girl.” Ruby: “I’m sorry, I just assumed from the movie... Why haven’t you told me this before?” Mulan: “It’s ancient history. Everything else from the movie is true though. Except for Mushu, I’m not sure what that was about.” Ruby: “Oh you know how they are, every movie has to have a plucky comedic sidekick.” Mulan: “Perhaps they’ll remake it one day. Replace the dragon with a smart, sexy wolf.” Ruby: (Laughs:) “Can wolves be sexy?” Mulan: “Oh please, like you don’t know.” Ruby: “You’re weird.” Mulan: “Maybe, or just hopelessly in love.” Ruby: “Hm, could be.” Mulan: “Definitely. (They kiss:) I’m so glad we found each other.” Ruby: (Kisses her again:) “Me too.” Mulan: “And I’m so happy you didn’t make the same mistake I did and told me how you felt before it was too late.” Ruby: (Smiles:) “Well thanks to a certain TV show, I know how tortured some warriors can be about their past and how it can stand in the way of their happiness.” Mulan: “Thank god for those plucky sidekicks huh?” Ruby: “We have our moments.” Mulan: “Yes, you certainly do.” Ruby: “Feel like having one of those moments right now?” Mulan: (Chuckles:) “We’re on duty.” Ruby: “Yeah, and we’re going to be all night long. I don’t think that campfire’s going to be able to keep us warm throughout, do you?” Mulan: “So you’re saying we might need to generate some extra heat ourselves huh?” Ruby: “Couldn’t hurt.” (Leans over and kisses Mulan’s neck.) Mulan: “You know you’re a terrible influence.” Ruby: (Removing her cloak:) “Uh huh. Do you need help with your armour?” Mulan: (Already pulling off her boots:) “No, I’ve got it.”

The Dragon's Lair. (David finally enters and makes his way over to the bar while Regina is reaching the crescendo of her performance.) Regina: ♪ Big wheel keep on turning ♪ ♪ Proud Mary keep on burning ♪ ♪ And we're rolling, rolling ♪ ♪ Rolling on the river ♪ ♪ And we're rolling, rolling ♪ ♪ Rolling on the river ♪ (Picking up his drink from the bar, David turns and sees his wife making a fool of herself, arguing drunkenly with three men.) Snow White: "I'll have you know that is my daughter-in-law up there, buddy! (Staggers:) You see she used to be my step-mother and then there was this curse and-" David: (Stepping in:) "All right, Snow, I think everyone knows about your history with Regina. I'm sure these gentlemen don't need to-" Maleficent: "Will you idiots shut the hell up? Regina's just about to go into her big finish!" Snow White: "Don't you tell me to shut up, blondie!" Maleficent: "Excuse me?" Snow White: "That's right, I'm talking to you, (Makes horns with her fingers:) Dragon lady." David: "Oh boy..." Snow White: "Don't think I don't know that you've still got feelings for Regina. (Hiccups:) We all see it." David: "I am so sorry." Snow White: "No! I knew we made the right decision telling Emma and Regina to hold off rescuing you. They're married! Married! You get that? You missed your chance." Maleficent: (To David:) "You told them not to come for us?" David: "That's not exactly-" (At that moment, one of the drunken men Snow was arguing with bumps David's arm, causing him to spill his drink over Maleficent.) Drunk Man: "Hey, cat fight!" (Disgusted, Maleficent pushes David backwards into the man which causes a fight to break out. While just about still able to stand, Snow lunges at Maleficent. Watching this all transpire from her bar stool, Lily turns to Zelena.) Lily: "And this is why we can't have nice things." (Downing her shot, Lily rushes over to break up the melee while Regina reaches the climax of her performance.) Regina: ♪ Big wheel keep on turning ♪ ♪ Proud Mary keep on burning ♪ ♪ And we're rolling and we're rolling ♪ ♪ And we're rolling on the river ♪ ♪ Yeah ♪ ♪ All right, now ♪ ♪ Yeah, rolling, rolling on the river ♪ ♪ Said they're rolling, oh, rolling, yeah, rolling on the river ♪ ♪ I tell you they're rolling, a-rolling, a-rolling on the river ♪ ♪ Yeah! ♪ (The crowd explodes in cheers and applause, Emma standing on her chair, arms raised high in the air, as proud as can be.)

Wonderland. Lizard's Home. (Will watches on with revulsion as Anastasia holds Lizard's severed eyes in her hand.) Will: "Eugh, if I knew you were going to do that, I would have said forget it." Anastasia: "It's the only way to capture Lizard's parting glances, Will. Do you think I enjoy cutting people's eyes out of their sockets?" Will: "All right, all right. But we're giving her a proper burial after this." Anastasia: "Agreed." Will: "So how does this work?" (Anastasia walks over to the kitchen and retrieves a bowl from the shelf. Placing the eyes inside, she walks back and puts the bowl on the table.) Anastasia: (Waving her hand over the bowl:) "De visu intueri. Visione revelare." (A blue cloud of images forms above the bowl. Quickly scanning them, Anastasia stops at a familiar face within the visions.) Will: "There! That's Ella. But who's she talking with?" Anastasia: "That's... That's my step-mother, Cecelia." Will: "What?" Anastasia: "Will, whatever that vision of Cecelia said to Ella is a lie. There's only one person responsible for Cecelia's death and she's long dead." Will: "What are you talking about?" Anastasia: "Come on, I'll explain on the way. We've got to stop Ella from doing something she'll regret." Will: “Wait, what about Lizard?” (Anastasia grabs him by the arm and pulls Will out of the house. Closing the door, she performs a sealing charm.) Anastasia: “There, she’ll be perfectly preserved in there until we have time to come back and give her a proper burial. Now come on!” (Anastasia grabs Will’s hand and pulls him along the deserted streets.) Storybrooke. Forest. (Bathed in moonlight, Mulan and Ruby explore each other's bodies while the campfire crackles beside them. Unnoticed by the lovers, a lone figure passes by their campsite through the shadows. Stepping momentarily into view, we see that Mordred has finally re-emerged from hiding.) The Dragon's Lair. Hallway. (Knocking on Regina's dressing room door, Emma waits for an answer.) Regina: (From inside:) "Who is it?" Emma: (Smiling:) "Your number one fan." Regina: (Chuckles:) "Come in." Dressing Room. (Opening the door, Emma is about to shower Regina with praise when she takes in the sight before her. Clad in only her underwear and with her bra undone, resting beneath her exposed breasts, Regina lays posed waiting for Emma's arrival.) Regina: (Reclined on the couch:) "Would you mind closing that? (Dumbly, Emma closes the door:) What took you so long?" Emma: "Apparently a fight broke out. Lily and Hook are dealing with it though. (Staring at her wife:) What would you have done if it was someone else at the door?" Regina: (Chuckles:) "Emma, I saw how you were watching me. I think if anyone else had tried to knock on my door, you would have shot them." Emma: "Fair point. (Walking further into the room:) You... you were... unbelievable." Regina: (Smiles:) "You enjoyed it then?" Emma: (Removing her jacket:) "Do you really want me to give you a full review right now while you're laying there naked or would you like me to catch up?" Regina: (Considers:) "How about both?" Emma: (Chuckles, unbuttoning her jeans:) "There are so many words to describe what I just witnessed, but I'll do us both a favour and start at the middle and work my way down." Regina: "Hm, so words starting with ‘M’ then?" Emma: "You were marvellous, mesmerising and magnificent. (Pulling her top over her head and throwing it aside:) But best of all... (Leans over Regina and kisses her deeply, taking the reclined woman's breath away:) You are undeniably, (Moves lower to place a kiss on Regina's right breast:) one hundred percent... (Kisses the other breast, gently removing the bra and tossing it aside:) without a shadow of a doubt... (Lays a trail of kisses over Regina's stomach, dipping her tongue into her belly button. Reaching Regina's underwear, she takes hold of them:) Mine." (Lifting her hips in anticipation, Regina yelps with delight as Emma removes her underwear in one smooth, powerful motion.) Regina: "Now and forever, my love." Emma: (Sinking to her knees, places each of Regina's legs over her shoulders:) "Shh, rest your voice. Because after what you did out there, and what I'm about to do in here, you might not be able to speak for a very long time." (Emma lowers her mouth to Regina's center. With the first touch of Emma's lips to her folds, Regina throws back her head ready to sing once more, although this time the sounds coming from her lips are cries of ecstasy, reserved only for her preferred audience of one.)

[batskulldrag]

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

A human Au where Patton and Logan adopt Patton’s estranged nephew.

trigger warnings for abuse, PTSD and anxiety 

included are mentioned brotherly creatwins, sympathetic deceit and no OC. any other character is either another youtuber, one of Thomas’s friends or a character from 2017′s Dream Daddy. 

Word count is obscene, I'll post weekly chapters

Chapter one: The Things We Lost in The Fire by Bastille

               Patton brooded into the house and scanning the living room only to find it empty, made a beeline for his and Logan’s bedroom. Fate had one nice thing in store for him because Logan was there silently grading papers at his desk. Before giving his husband a chance to comment on his sudden appearance Patton dropped his head onto Logan’s shoulder. Logan automatically reached up a hand to stroke Patton’s ash blond hair.

               “Bad day I assume?” Logan asked as soothingly as he could muster.

               Rather than answer Patton sank to the ground and flopped his head down on Logan’s lap.

               “That bad?” Logan continued to pet his hair.

               “Have you seen the news?” Patton mumbled, his voice blocked with hands and defeat.

               “No, I haven’t.” Logan was hesitant and let on concern. “What happened?”

               “My nasty, no account bully of a brother is back in town and trying to run for local office.”  Patton snorted. “And he’s lying about our family.”

               Logan’s eyes narrowed, unimaginative as he was, he saw a flood of potential falsehoods that could earn anyone a landslide of pity votes.

               “What does that beast have to say for himself?”

                Patton let out a sound that was almost a sob.

               “You don’t have to tell me, I’m sure I could look it up.” Logan sighed, still stroking Patton’s head. “And more importantly, I’m sure we can debunk whatever he has to say.”

               “The implications will still be there, even if they’re wrong. And people might say that we’re the ones who are lying.” Patton slid more of his body onto Lagan’s lap.

               “I know.”

               “He’s saying that our mom was a homophobe, and that she made him …” Patton tilted his head away and coughed. “Sleep with a girl to ‘cure him’ or something. That’s not fair. He was the homophobe.”

               “That’s his explanation for his son?”

               “And his campaign on how much he cares about other sexualities.” Patton rolled his eyes.

               “Patton, why don’t you go ahead and post our senior prom pictures on Sharebook?” Logan said gently, but with a sinister smile that his companion couldn’t see.

               “I don’t follow.” Patton met Logan’s eyes.

               “Your mother was the one who took most of those pictures. Payton isn’t that much older than you; how does he intend to explain that change in opinion?”

               “Logan you’re a genius!” Patton threw his arms around him.

               “I know.” The other smiled.

#                             #                             #

               Logan remembered prom night vividly, more vividly than graduation in fact. All it took to remember every detail was just a brief look over Patton’s shoulder at their first picture to bring it all back. Patton’s braces that he had haphazardly tried to paint blue by eating nontoxic paint, granting him blue teeth and colorless braces. It didn’t faze him though. He was still beaming with his entire being. A nerd in a tan suite with stained teeth. No one could touch him.

               And of course, Logan himself, who hadn’t changed much appearance wise since high school. Smiling reluctantly as Patton stretched an arm around his shoulder as they both stood in front of the open door.

               “Logan, sweetheart you look so stiff try to relax.” Patton’s mother teased.

               “Maybe I should move my arm.” Patton said quickly as he pulled his arm away.

               “Yeah Pat.” Roman chimed in from behind them. “Leave room for Jesus.”

               Roman was one to talk, he all but had his date sitting in his lap on the ride over. They both turned to see him strutting up the driveway. At the time his hair was dyed red, which made it look like his head was on fire. Did that shake him? No. He proudly wore red hair, a white tuxedo and a matching rose in his buttonhole. Elton John would have called it overkill.

               “You forgot this calculator watch.” Roman announced holding out a corsage of forget-me-nots and baby’s breath.

               “Oh, Logan you got me flowers!” Patton squeaked, clasping his hands together and pressing them to his chin.

               “Logan, is your dad single?” Patton’s mom interjected again.

               Logan felt himself blush and looked out the door for an escape.

               “No, he’s still married to my mom. Sorry.” He responded flatly, hoping they would just think he didn’t get the joke.

               “Oh, a little baby person!” Roman suddenly exclaimed as he darted inside, heading directly for the pram in the middle of the living room.

               “Careful not to wake him up.” Patton called to him.

               “Why’s he out here?” Roman whispered, looking up from the baby.

               “He was a little fussy, so I brought him down here where it was cooler.” Ms. Foster explained.

               “I thought Payton was here taking care of Virgil.” Logan added. “After all he is his father.”

               “Payt’s up in his room studying for his LSATs, besides Virgil’s only a few months old. He doesn’t have it in him to be troublesome yet.” She leaned over the pram and cooed. “Unlike his daddy who cut five teeth at once and his uncle who bit everything.”

               Both Roman and Logan laughed at this while Patton just stood there quietly.

               “It wasn’t that bad.” Patton mumbled.

               “Yes, it was, that crib we’re using, you chewed one of the legs off. And I swear Payton started sprinting before he could even walk. So, I had to be on constant look out for him, lest I step on and kill my own baby.”

               “We should go.” Patton pointed towards the door in an effort to escape.

               “Wait, Logan, you need to put the corsage on Patton.” Roman pointed at the pair of them.

               “Why?” Logan asked blankly.

               “Tradition.” Roman stood tall and crossed his arms.

               “Fine.” Logan tilted his head back and sighed.

               Patton’s mother got a picture of the moment. The rest of the evening was horrible. The car that they all shared broke down and they had to walk to the gym. They showed up an hour late and covered in sweat and grease. Then a few morons threw punch on both of them during the slow dance. The lights constantly flickered as if they were going to go off, giving him a migraine. And finally, two people backed him into a corner and tormented him until he had an episode. Which everyone thought was hilarious, so they laughed while ‘the retard’, as he was known, threw a tantrum in the corner.

That was when Patton showed how amazing he really was. He wielded guilt like a weapon and tore everyone down to below sea level.  He threatened to tell peoples parents, he swore to treat them exactly the way they had treated Logan. He labeled each and every one of them a sociopath and declared that he would see to it that they all went to hell. After Patton’s rant and Logan’s episode Patton just took him outside and they spent the rest of the night there.

               That had been the moment when Logan fell in love with that boy. Covered in sweat and punch and coming off the heels of a tantrum he fell in love with Patton. And he knew Patton loved him, come what may. Graduation didn’t hold a candle to that.

                                                                               #             #             #

               “Are you somewhere fun?” Patton’s voice cracked through the memory.

               “Yes.” Logan looked back over to Patton. “I’m here.”

               Patton beamed back at him and went back to his pictures. There were a handful of their graduation, several of Patton once he finally got his braces off. And many different pictures of Patton feeding Virgil smashed chocolate cake on his first birthday. Patton’s demeanor dropped and he sighed heavily. None of them had seen Virgil since he was a baby.

               “I hope he’s ok.” Patton thought out loud.

               “I’m sure he is.” Logan lied, taking Patton’s hand in his.

                                                                               #             #             #

               I’ll kill him. Payton thought viciously as yet another reporter asked him the same question.

               “Mr. Foster, how do you explain the inconsistencies between your description of events and the pictures your brother posted online yesterday?”

               “Patton must have come out after mother passed away.” Payton said smoothly. “And after seeing what she did to me, who can blame him?”

               They seemed to accept that. Good. He scoffed under his breath; they were all too lazy to investigate anything, so they just took everything at face value.

               “But Mr. Foster,” A familiar voice that didn’t belong to a reporter chimed in. “An examination of these pictures also shows her at Patton’s high school graduation, which took place after prom. Is your mother a ghost?”

               Payton looked across the crowd and saw the instigator. A man of moderate height and muscular build wearing a fedora with a press card in the band. To match that he also wore a brown three-piece suit and glasses of the same color. He didn’t even look like he was from this time era.

               “You cannot prove that prom preceded graduation.” Payton argued, knowing that it was a horrible lie. “And you cannot prove that it is our mother in the picture with him.”

               “Ok. But I can.” The time traveler challenged. “Other pictures of your mom would prove that she is indeed pictured in Patton’s graduation, with his boyfriend. And high school functions such as prom always proceed graduation. It’s senior prom, not post-graduation prom. Also! Patton has blue teeth in the prom pictures, but the blue has faded off in the graduation pictures.”

               Many of the reporters murmured and turned to the stranger.

               “Ok Roman,” Payton leaned against his podium. “Did someone put you up to this or are you on your own?”

               “I’m on my own. And I stand alone in the halls of people who look things up. These are dark days indeed.”

               “Pay no attention to that drama queen back there please.” Payton sneered. “He’s friends with my brother.”

               “So now I have become your enemy because I tell you the truth?” Roman said loudly, pressing one hand to his heart.

               “Isn’t that from the bible?”

               “Have you read the bible?”

               A hushed murmur echoed through the crowd. When did this become a roast off?

               “Roman, leave before I call security.”

               “This is a public gathering; you can’t throw me out.”

               Much to Roman’s dismay and his own delight he indeed could throw him out. But the damage had been done, everyone’s questions now reflected what Roman had pointed out. And worse still several of these dullards had now been bitten by the research bug. They may start thinking for themselves against all odds.

               Speaking of things that thought without permission Virgil had beaten him home that afternoon. His gangly, yet somehow short form was slumped on the couch staring at his phone. His school uniform was in disarray around him. He had his blazer on his lap like a blanket, his tie hung over his shoulders and his shirt unbuttoned almost to his waste and he had added an old hoodie that was probably decomposing by now. Why didn’t the bastard just go ahead and get naked? What a slob.

And, if he were to be honest, he thought Virgil was ugly. Most teenagers are and his son reflected that. Virgil had scattered acne and freckles on a pasty white face that he had the decency to cover up with makeup, hollow eyes, violet in color making him look every bit the mutant he was, and black hair that he kept in a stupid fashion. Who the hell even had bangs anymore?

               “Sit up straight, you look like a corpse.” Payton snapped at the figure.

               “Dead bodies are cool.” Virgil retorted sitting up proper.

               “Don’t test me you bastard, I’ve had a very hard day.” He pointed to the defiant brat. “And I will not be challenged by a teenager who still wets the bed.”

               Virgil backed down but shot him one last glare.

               “I haven’t done that in a month.” He mumbled.

               “And I haven’t done that since I was four. You’re nine years late.”

               Virgil slumped his shoulders and pulled his hood up to conceal the fact that his ears were turning red.

               Good. You stay where you belong. Payton thought coldly.

               “I told you to sit up straight.” He said tauntingly.

               Virgil stood up and walked to the stairs.

               “Why doesn’t daddy love me?” He mocked Virgil as he walked. “I wonder.”

               Virgil stormed up the stairs and into his room. He would have punctuated this tantrum by slamming the door. But his room didn’t have one.

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               “Have you seen the news?” Roman yelled, bursting into the room and slamming the door open.

               “Roman, how many times do I have to tell you not to slam the door?” Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

               “What’s up Roman?” Patton asked tilting his head to the side.

               “They’re investigating your brother for mishandling campaign funds, and they found out that he left that law firm he worked for under suspicion of tampering with evidence. And something about hiding information or something.” Roman monologued.

               “If he was a lawyer then he would be required to share any evidence he obtained with the opposing counsel, even if it hurt his own case. It was started after the Brady vs Maryland case, during which-”  

               “Logan, not now.” Patton squeezed his shoulder gently. “Is that all, Roman, is Virgil ok?”

               “I – I don’t know. He’s just kinda in the background of all this.” Roman’s posture dropped. “What if we ruined his life!?”

               “Oh gosh, if Payton gets sent to prison it’ll be all my fault!” Patton jumped off the couch in terror. “I’m a horrible brother! I’m a horrible uncle! I’m a horrible person! I ruined his life in three days!”

               “We’re going straight to hell!” Roman pulled on his jacket as if he were trying to pull himself together.

               “No, stop. Both of you.” Logan stood up to reason with them at eye level. “No one’s going to hell, or prison … well I can guarantee no one’s going to hell.”

               “What have I done!?” Patton dropped to the floor and curled into a ball. “I’m a horrible person!”

               “Patton. If your brother is guilty of what they accuse him of, then he only has himself to blame for being in trouble. All you did was innocently post a few things on Sharebook to set the record straight.”

               “Roman,” He continued. “What you did was stupid, but I don’t think it caused anything but a few jokes around the water cooler.”

               A loud gasp came from the floor that led the other two to believe that Patton was crying.

               “I can’t do this. The guilt is killing me!”

               “You didn’t do anything! Payton is in trouble with the law because he broke it. That has nothing to do with us!” Logan objected.

               “But the pictures.” He looked up tearfully.

               “Only served to prove that your mother was not a homophobe.”

               “And Roman?”

               “Is an idiot.”

               “Hey!” Roman protested.

               “But he also had nothing to do with this.”

               “What about Virgil?” Roman asked softly from the doorway.

               No one knew what to say.

                                                                               #             #             #

               It had been five days since Patton’s idiotic meddling on Sharebook, and the worst part was that Payton couldn’t figure out if it was intentional or not. His younger brother never could have thought of something like this. But he did have that drama queen, and that retard he married. One of them might have done this.

               “Dad, can we talk?” Virgil interrupted him, typical.

               “What could you possibly want?” He glared up from his work.

               Virgil was still in his pajamas, wearing no makeup and looking like a member of the living dead. Before speaking he turned away and coughed violently.

               “Are you sick again!?” Payton growled. “I swear if I let you lose in the wild, you’d be dead in an instant. I don’t know what’s keeping you alive; it’s certainly not a higher purpose. There, now we’ve talked. And I’m worse off for it. Now scram.”

               “Is all the stuff on the news true?” Virgil rasped.

               “I recall telling you to go away…”

               “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll just have to decide for myself.”

               “Knowing you, you’ll side with the masses. Keeps people from having to think. You’d like that.”

               “Why are you teeing off on me!? All I asked for was a yes or no answer.”

               “That’s a lot of back bone for somebody who hasn’t shown me his final report card yet.” He didn’t even look up. “We had to do summer school last year and they still held you back. If either of those things happen this year… well no point in speculating over things that won’t happen.”

               That was the thread he needed to pull evidently. Virgil retreated.

               Before going to his room Virgil stumbled into the bathroom and threw up. His heart was beating its way out of his chest, the room was spinning.

               Spinning

                               Spinning

                                               S

                                                   P

                                                      I

                                                         N

                                                               N

                                                                   I

                                                                               N

                                                                                   G

He fell to the floor, arms and legs both feeling like static.

No! not another one! He dizzily protested, forcing in several ragged breaths just have air.

Hell only knows how long he was laying on the bathroom floor before he calmed himself down. But he somehow managed and dragged himself back to his room. It wasn’t long before he passed out on his bed.

#             #             #

               It’s now been nearly two weeks since everything started. Virgil hasn’t gotten over whatever he caught this time. But his dad hasn’t been home too much lately, so there was still solaced to be found. He lay in bed, sweating from fever and almost let himself dare to have hope. His dad may end up in prison before the summer was over. Maybe he could testify. He could tell if his dad was in prison, hell he’d scream it from the rooftops if his dad wasn’t around to provide consequences.

                                                                               #             #             #

               Payton set the smoke detector down on a table in the hallway and looked in Virgil’s room. Virgil was passed out in his bed, no doubt out of his mind on cold medicine and looking pale and tragic. He slid into the room and stood over him.

               “Poor Virgil.” He scoffed, wiping his greasy hair off his sweat covered forehead. “I really tried to want you. Hell, I wanted to want you. It just didn’t work out that way.”

               Virgil coughed lightly in his sleep and turned over uneasily. Everything that kid did was uneasy. Payton picked up the half full bottle of medicine on the nightstand and stared into it apathetically.

               Virgil jolted bolt upright and coughed violently. Payton quietly watched him fight for air.

               “Why are you in here?” Virgil panted, already trembling with fear.

               “It’s alright.” Payton said softly, placing the back of his hand on Virgil’s forehead. “I’m just checking on you.”

               “Why?” Virgil recoiled from his hand.

               “You’re sick, aren’t you?” Payton cupped Virgil’s face in his hands. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok before I left.”

               Virgil settled into his hands and stared up at him. Hope dotted itself in his unnatural eyes. He was helpless to resist temptation. Sucker.

               “Alright. I have a meeting tonight.” Payton ran his hand through Virgil’s hair. “But tomorrow I’m taking you to the doctor.”

               “Why?” Virgil jolted back. His eyes lit with terror.

               “No, I’m taking you to get this sickness checked out.” Payton purred. “You know I’d never hurt you for no reason.”

               “No?” He squeaked.

               “Of course not. Have I ever hurt you when you haven’t done anything?”

               “No?” Virgil’s breathing sped up.

               “Of course not. Now drink your medicine and try to get some sleep.”

               With quivering hands Virgil took the bottle from him and drank it obediently.

               “There’s a good boy.” Payton smiled.

               As a finishing move Payton tucked Virgil in before leaving. Virgil shivered the entire time. Payton couldn’t tell if he was excited to have the attention of if he was just that terrified. It didn’t really matter.

               Either way, Payton had the little parasite right where he wanted him. And today that meant he was right here in bed, sound asleep. Dead to the world.

               Payton stopped in his study and dropped the rug over the lamp’s newly frayed cord. He ‘accidentally’ left the lamp on before he left. As far as anyone would ask.

                                                                               #             #             #

Roman was feeling high on life. He was on his way home from an excellent performance of The Lion King in which he, being one of the only people who could sing and dance and sit through the makeup process to audition, had played Mufasa one night and Scar the next. Both were amazing parts. Just think two on stage deaths, and a solo on villain nights. And who doesn’t love a villain?

               To cap off this evening he had become quite close with the actor playing Timonen, who was especially charming. Yes, things were lovely. He nearly lost control of his motorcycle at the thought. As he steadied himself back, he checked the clock in the center, it was very nearly midnight.

               “Well, I’m sure the love birds are done with their date night by now.” He said out loud, nearly drowned out by his engine.

               Roman nodded to himself and looked for a driveway to turn around in. Preferably one where nobody was home to bother with his bike. He was a gentleman after all. Roman pulled into an empty driveway and made a U-turn back towards the road.

               But something leaked into his helmet and stopped Roman in his tracks. It was the unmistakable smell of smoke. He dropped his bike and whipped around to see the house behind him glowing with flames and billowing thick black smoke. Without a second thought he tossed his helmet to the ground and called for help.

               The house itself was a two-story building that was fairly isolated from neighbors. And there wasn’t another soul outside, so no one had seen the fire yet. While Roman was giving the address the windows in the bottom floor exploded, punctuated by the sound of sirens in the distance. It looked like everything would be ok… luckily, no one was home.

               No! He was wrong! It’s not ok! The glow of the fire had illuminated the figure of someone on the second floor trying to break the window. The room they were in was already on fire. Not having time for caution, Roman bounded towards the house. He could hear the firefighters behind him yelling for him to stop as they pulled up, but he had already leapt onto the landing by the time the words sank in. He could jump surprisingly high; as a dancer he had the legs for it. He pulled himself up the gutter, wrapped his jacket over his fist and with one blow he shattered the window and the person jumped out, coughing up both lungs.

               Both he and the sole survivor were blown back by a gust of hot wind. It was like Satan had roared at them. Obviously dizzy from inhaling so much smoke the survivor, who looked no more than twelve fell back when Satan roared and slid down the roof. Roman leapt for him and saw the kid grab hold of the same gutter, and lose his hold falling to the ground feet first. Roman jumped down after him and scoped him up gently, he was still breathing. But not very strongly. He ran the kid to the nearest ambulance.

                                                                               #             #             #

               ‘F’ is for friends who do stuff together…

               Patton groggily pulled his phone off the nightstand. Why was Roman calling at one in the morning?

               “Ehlo?” He mumbled into the receiver.

               “Hey friendo …” Roman’s voice was hesitant. “Can you come get me from the hospital? I know it’s late, but I’ve had a night.”

               “Hold that thought kiddo.” Patton said calmly, before turning to Logan. “Logan! Roman is in the hospital! My friends are being punished for my sins!” He panicked.

               “We’re married.” Logan mumbled, not even half awake.

               “We’ll be right down to get you honey.” Patton faked a cool demeanor over the phone.

               “I heard you yelling. And, I should point out that I’m not hurt.”

                                                                               #             #             #

               “Roman what happened?!” Patton rushed over to him.

               “Well, there was a fire…” Roman began.

               “At the theater!? Was anybody hurt?! Did Remus start the fire!? Is he back so soon!?”

               Patton looked down and saw that Roman’s right hand in a cast.

               “You are too hurt! Why did you lie to me!?”

               Logan stepped up and pulled Patton back by the shoulder.

               “Everything’s going to be ok Patton. If Roman was badly hurt, they wouldn’t let him leave just yet.” He said calmly. “Now let’s just let him tell the story.”

               “Ok.” Patton mumbled, burying his face in Logan’s shoulder.

               “Ok, on my way home I encountered a house on fire. So, I called the authorities. Then I saw that there was someone trapped upstairs. So, I jumped onto the landing and broke the window with my fist.” Roman explained slowly and without any of his normal flare.

               “Why would you do that? You could have been killed?” Logan asked, flustered at Roman’s general lack of caution.

               “There was someone in there! A little kid trapped in a fire! Wouldn’t you have?”

               “If emergency services hadn’t yet arrived and there was no time to wait, I suppose I would. Had such services arrived?”

               “…” Roman looked down. “Yes.”

               “Are you ok?” Patton asked softly.

               “Yes, it’s just a few cuts. And apparently, I punched the window wrong and broke my wrist. I don’t think I’ll be able to do the matinee tomorrow. I’ll call Robert to pick up my bike.”

               “Is the kid?”

               “They haven’t told me how he is. Apparently only family gets to know the details.” He rolled his eyes.

               “Hippa laws.” Logan added. “Standard doctor/patient confidentiality to protect the privacy of the patient…”

               “Don’t you start.” Roman pointed at him angrily. “All they told me was that he’d be fine.”

               “Did the police take your statement?”

               “Yeah. An unfortunate number of officers are familiar with me. And they almost exclusively know me as the guy with the crazy twin.”

               “Speaking of brothers…” Patton interrupted almost as if he were in a trance.

               The other two turned in unison to see what Patton was staring at so intently. And speak of the Devil there was Payton.

[sunriserose1023]

Deep Blue, Painted Golden {1}

WORD COUNT: 1947 WARNINGS: Celebrity Steve, celebrity reader, light angst AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here’s the start of a new series, based off the prompt “Sports,” which I got from @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ for “Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration.” Steve is the quarterback of a football team, while the reader is loosely based on Taylor Swift’s meteoric star power.

Masterlist

“All I’m saying, how long do you expect to be doing this for? Would it be the worst thing to get a little backup plan going?” “He’s not going to be selling cars like Terry Bradshaw. He could break into movies or—“ “Get real.”

Steve snorted a laugh, shaking his head when the men in the room turned to look at him. 

“Go ahead. Keep talking about me like I’m not here. In fact, let me go ahead and leave you to it.”

The team of lawyers and his agent all started protesting and Steve shook his head, sliding his phone out of his pocket as he left the office. He tapped the screen a few times as he waited for the elevator, stepping inside it and typing out a text. He moved to rest a hip against the railing at the back, staring at his phone when the elevator stopped on the next floor. He listened to the elevator door open and shut, heard a muffled whispering from the people who’d climbed onto the elevator with him. 

“Excuse me, mister?”

God, kids with lisps just melted his heart. He looked up from his phone, seeing the little boy in front of him widen his eyes.

“It is you! You’re Steve Rogers!”

Steve smiled, nodding his head as he crouched down, holding out a hand. 

“Hey, buddy. How are you?”

The little boy grinned, showcasing the space where his front teeth should be, the cause of the lisp. He enthusiastically shook Steve’s hand, then turned that brilliant smile towards the woman before them. 

“Mom! Mom, look! It’s Steve Rogers!” “I see, baby. Did you tell him how you love watching his games?”

The little boy nodded as he looked back to Steve. 

“Me and my dad watch all your games, Mister Rogers. You’re our favorite QB in the whole league.”

Steve smiled. 

“Well, thank you, buddy. I hope you watch this next season.” “Oh, we are. You’re going to take us to the Super Bowl this year, Dad swears.” “I’m going to do my best.” “Hey, Mom?”

Steve stood and watched the boy whisper to his mother, who turned to Steve with an apologetic look on her face. 

“Would you mind if we took a picture?”

Steve shook his head. 

“Not at all. I love getting pictures with future QBs.”

The little boy grinned up at him. 

“I’m not a great thrower, but I can run like hell.”

Steve laughed as the mother admonished the child, turning to Steve and shaking her head. 

“He knows better than to talk like that. His father …”

She rolled her eyes and Steve smiled. 

“We need fast receivers worse than we need QBs. Come here, bud.”

Steve knelt to the kid’s level, both of them giving the camera a thumb’s up. Steve signed the back of a receipt the mom found in her purse for the kid, then another one for his dad, thanking the both of them before they all exited the elevator. Steve could hear the kid chattering away as he went for the parking garage, keeping his head down to try and detract the fans. He found his truck and climbed inside, starting it up and leaning his head back. 

“Incoming call from Bucky Barnes.”

Steve nodded, tapping a button on his steering wheel. 

“Rogers.” “Rogers, this is Barnes. Where the fuck are you?”

Steve smiled, closing his eyes. 

“Leaving Fury’s office. You?” “Ooh, what did you get called to the principal’s office for? Were you fraternizing with a cheerleader again?” “That was one time, and come to think of it, wasn’t that you and not me?”

The line was quiet and Steve snorted. 

“Busted.” “Seriously though. Everything kosher?” “As kosher as it gets with Fury. They’re pushing the retirement angle.” “Again? Fuck that shit. You’ve still got a few good years left in you. That cannon’s not ready to be put down just yet.”

Steve smiled, rolling his shoulder, letting out a sigh. 

“I don’t know, Buck. Maybe they’ve got a point.” “Maybe you need to not go down that road again. I can’t stand you when you wallow.” “Well, I can barely stand you on a good day, so…” “Jackass.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know. I just … maybe I just need to get away for awhile. We don’t start camp for—” “Shit, we’ve got plenty of time before camp. Hey, I’ve got a friend who’s been bugging me to visit the south of France with her. Want to tag along?” “As long as this one doesn’t believe we’re a two-for-one kind of deal.”

Bucky cackled through the speakers and Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, hey. You remember Wanda Maximoff?” “Wasn’t she one of our cheerleaders?” “Yeah, from a few years ago. We kept in touch once she left and she’s in a new play in the West End, says she can get me a couple tickets if I want to come see it.” “The West End? Isn’t that London?” “Right-o, Geography Jack. Want to go visit jolly old England?”

Steve pursed his lips, raising his eyebrows. 

“I haven’t seen London in a while.” “So let’s go, just me and you. We can catch Wanda’s play, catch up with her and have pints in the middle of the afternoon.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled. 

“Let’s do it. Want me to book the flights?” “If you mean do I want Maria to book the flights, then yes. Yes, I do. In the good hotel with the turndown service.” “There was a ‘please’ in there, wasn’t it?” “Not for you. I send Maria flowers for all the crap she does for you.” “For us.” “‘S what I said.”

Steve shook his head, straightening in the seat and pulling his seatbelt on. 

“I’ll call her and get it started. How soon do you want to go?” “You know me, baby. I’m up for anything, anytime. I’m just following you, Captain.” “I’ll text you the details.”

Steve ended the call, putting the truck in reverse and driving out of the parking lot. He couldn’t tell his best friend, but he was dying for a change of scenery. He needed to get away from everyone knowing who he is, having photographers track his every move, seeing his face on the cover of every magazine at the checkout stand. 

He loved his job, and he honestly liked the fame that came with it. He knew what he was getting into when he signed up for the draft. He liked having the models on his arm when he was younger, but now … the older he got, the more aches that set in, the more he was longing for something more. 

He wasn’t sure what that was just yet. Something outside a football field? He didn’t have any skills other than being a quarterback, and a damn good one at that. Five Super Bowl rings, seven Pro Bowl appearances, endorsement deals with Nike and Gatorade, and thousands of adoring fans across the country. It was nice being Steve Rogers; he had a good life and he was grateful for it. 

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. 

You stirred the eggs in the pan, sprinkling in some cheese and smiling when it melted. You moved the tea kettle off the burner as soon as it began to whistle, grabbing the toast as it popped out of the toaster. You glanced over your shoulder and smiled as your cousin made her way down the hall, eyes widening and blinking. 

“You made breakfast?” “Cheesy eggs, toast, and tea. It’s not exactly a spread, but—“ “It’s more than the protein bar I was going to have. Thank you, darling.”

Peggy sat at the table and you brought her a plate, setting it in front of her and passing her the salt and pepper. You went back and fixed your own plate, then took the seat across from her. Peggy took a bite and sighed, the blissful look on her face bringing a smile to yours. 

“Absolutely delightful.” “Why, thank you.”

Peggy smiled, sipping her tea. 

“Any plans today?”

You shook your head, glancing out the window. 

“Maybe walk around and explore a bit. No one’s supposed to know that I’m here, so maybe I can have a minute to rest.”

Peggy nodded, and the conversation stilted, the silence that settled over the two of you growing suddenly uncomfortable. You sighed, pushing a hand through your hair. 

“I know you want to ask, and I promise I’ll tell you. I just … I need to just breathe for a while.” “I completely understand, darling. Take your time.”

You nodded, and Peggy lifted her teacup. 

“Just …”

You lifted your eyes towards her and she sighed. 

“You’re not in trouble, are you?” “If you mean ‘is the mob going to be coming after me,’ the answer is no. Trouble … is a finicky word.” “But you’re alright?”

You sighed, pushing the eggs around on your plate. 

“I don’t know anymore.” “Is there anything I can do to help?” “Besides give up half your living space to me? Honestly, Peg. You’ve done more than enough.” “I just want you to feel comfortable here. You’re always welcome with me, and I hope you know that.”

Tears filled your eyes and you nodded. Peggy reached across the table and you took her hand, giving a shaky sigh. 

“I’ll be okay. I just need a break.” “Take all the time you need, dear.”

She gave your hand a squeeze, then dabbed her napkin at her lips. 

“I’ve got to hurry or I’ll be late. Can’t afford to get sacked from this job.”

You smiled and she drank the rest of her tea, taking her empty plate to the sink and coming back to kiss your cheek. 

“Take the day and be lazy. I’m not sure you’ve done that since you were fourteen years old.” “I was so busy back then.” “I know, darling.”

Peggy turned and walked away, and you crossed your arms over your chest, looking out at the dreary morning. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, smiling back at Peggy when she walked into the room with her purse in her hand and heels on her feet. 

“Don’t turn on the telly if you can help it.” “Why?”

She didn’t answer and you hung your head, putting your elbows on the table and your head in your hands. Peggy walked over and kissed the top of your head, nails gently scritching your back before she made her way out the door. 

You lifted your head and stared out the window, shaking your head and giving a deep sigh. You’d wanted to see this side of London, the small village Peggy called home, but the more you thought about it, the more you let your anxiety get the better of you, and you decided to stay in today. You left the dishes in the kitchen sink and walked back down the hall to the spare bedroom Peggy had set up for you. There was a picture of you on the nightstand from your sixteenth birthday, the first time you played Madison Square Garden. You were standing on the stage in the pale pink dress you loved, a wide smile on your lips, glitter in your hair and around your eyes, tears shining on your cheeks. 

You picked up the picture and ran your fingers over the glass. You shook your head, giving a deep sigh as you set the frame back on the nightstand, dropping your robe and crawling back into bed, pulling the covers over your head.

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @bluemindblacksoul, @maraudingmarauder, @queenie4ce, @ivoryhazlewood, @capsiclesdoll, @aspiring-fangirls-world, @stonyiscanon, @shhhs3cret, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @thefanficfaerie, @patzammit, @free2bmee, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @isaxhorror, @paige-sais-rawr, @theunofficialduke, @mizzzpink​, @sea040561​, @nerdy-bookworm-1998​, @unapologeticallymimi​, @queenoftrash97​, @xxashy999xx​, @ishirogersworld​, @whimsicalatbest​

[ebachan]

Sonic Movie Review

So, nobody is going to be surprised I’m writing a review of this movie :-D I’ve seen it the last Saturday. Since then, I’ve calmed down a bit, so I’m not going to be “clouded” by emotions (too much XD)

So without further ado, here we dash by...

I’ll divide this into three segments - The Good, “The Neutral”, “The Bad”. This is a purely personal opinion, so you are free to disagree ;-) I’m open to discussion, but have patience with me ;-) This will be spoilerific, so watch out :-)

TL: DR

The movie is worth the money for sure. There is a lot of fun, good action, top-notch CGI, the voice acting is spot on, Jim Carrey as Dr. Robotnik works really well, and Tom with Maddie make a great couple. All of this and more makes one heck-of-a-ride you will enjoy for the second time as well.

I hope you won’t mind the tag, but I love to read from you ;-)

@movie-robotnik-positivity @movie-sonic-positivity @movie-sonic-adopted-au @aawesomepenguin @welcome-to-green-hills @dxrkblaze @deldiztmblr​ 

THE GOOD

The design...

We all can agree this Design is extremely good and flows well. I’ll remind you, I’m one of the rare people who liked Sonic 1.0. Yes, the one who was hated by almost the whole world. I still like this design, and I would be happy to see it again in action with small adjustments.

However, this one fits better. It has cartoony vibes, vibrant colors, the details are insanely beautiful, and the eyes are pure cuteness.

Jokes...

I liked almost every joke, and if I didn’t get it, I enjoyed the reaction. I can’t speak for English since I’ve heard only Czech dub, but they did well in translating or changing the jokes to fit the scene :-)

Voice Acting...

As stated before, can’t judge it, but great job on it! Czech one just sometimes for me loses some of the emotions Ben Schwartz expressed, but it’s not so bad.

Actions Scenes...

Fast-paced and well-timed. No DBZ-like fights and all of them lead to Sonic’s evolution and show his personality in the best light.

Tom and Maddie...

As I mentioned briefly, I like them both. They are a color-mixed couple, and I love them!!! It’s not forced like with words “Emancipation” or “Women don’t need men”. While Maddie isn’t an action type, she knows how to hold her ground. Like when she was calm when facing Sonic for the first time, or how she accompanied them later in the journey. She is level-headed as not even a dozen of egg-drones made her panic.

Tom is perhaps for some boring, but I like him. He is more collected and mature, which works for some nice dynamics. He is not just an adult, but Sherif too, so he has a strong sense of justice and can’t leave helpless people and alienhogs alike alone :-) He has some great lines, and takes Sonic as an equal.

Dr. Robotnik...

Only know I know he played in The Mask (a movie I’ve seen as a kid but didn’t like that much), but I’m soooo bad with names ^_^;. So, he wasn’t the reason I watched the movie, but I knew I love him as Dr. Robotnik. He makes him less 2D-villain-from-80s and gives him a spark. He is more interesting then SatAm’s Dr. Robotnik, and more close to Boom Dr. Eggman. Yet he is also very dangerous which makes for a great balance of goofy&over-the-top&serious threat.

Music...

I find it nice. Featuring smaller names like Hyper Potion or belowed Junkie-XL is a nice bonus, and they fit well the story. Except for Dr. Robotnik’s one. His moves were more fit for Fast Rock-like music. The Where Evil Grows feels too slow but fits his character. That was the only scene that threw me a bit off.

CGI...

I generally didn’t like 3D much less not fully CGI movies, but this CGI is gorgeous and so alive!! The first half-CGI movie I enjoyed was Detective Pikachu. In this decade, we have a technology capable of making those characters come to life! I hope to see more movies like this!

Easter Eggs...

I’ve spotted a few. And perhaps one I didn’t see anybody talking about. In the Bar Fight Scene, Sonic pulls out underwear of one man attacking Tom just like The Mask did XD Don’t tell me this isn’t an Easter Egg XD You can’t talk me out of it :-D

Emotions...

While I didn’t cry (as I feared), I still felt sadness or joy with Sonic.

The Neutral

Floss...

I don’t care! It’s a simple but challenging dance. It has fast-paced vibes that fit well with Sonic. Not to mention, Sonic mimicked children to feel like he has friends or he is “in”, so if some did Floss challenge, he would do it too.

Product placement...

I’ve noticed a few, and I didn’t mind them. They were relevant to the plot, quick easter-egg (pun intended), or a part of a joke. 

Some jokes...

I didn’t mind fart jokes... as silly as they are, there wasn't one every five minutes, so no big deal :-)

Sonic’s arms...

I still don’t get this argument (and I may not want to), but whatever... It’s a minimal change, and I never had a problem with it. The same goes for shoes or any other design choice. Small changes don’t ruin the character ;-)

“The Bad”

I don’t exactly have something I don’t like. But I thought I should mention a thing or two. I found a few “plot-holes” that bugged me after a bit, but they do have an explanation when you think about it. Let’s call them Sonic’s Fun Facts!

NONE of what I mention here is meant to trash the movie!! It’s more of an observation, a fun activity ;-)

The car...

I dunno if any of the cars have an alarm telling you to put on the seat-belt but in both cases of Tom and Sonic, it never rung. But some may not have this function.

The car v2...

Tom’s car lost the roof, yet we didn’t see anybody stopping him. I’m sure everybody would call cops. That would be so weird. The question is, how far he had it to Maddie’s sister, and how close that house was to the Center. Perhas he needed only a short distance or people thought he has those funny 3D-stickers or it’s part of s promotion... Who knows XD

The car V3...

Sonic’s driving... has a lot to desire. Yet, still no police on their tail. Maddie asked the right question. The answer... This is just a joke. Don’t think too deep about it :-D

The Terrorist...

Tom is called a terrorist, but we don’t see any police forces to approach him. Why? Perhaps Dr. Robotnik called dibs on him and given how much the government trust in him, they believe nobody else is needed. Also, if terrorist sees policemen, they tend to turn aggressive. So, for the protection of people, it’s best not to approach him ;-)

The terrorist v2...

Tom uses his badge to gain an access to the door with no security going after him even after the “kidnapping joke”. It still works with my previous statement. It’s meant as a joke, something silly and a bit of adult-humor that works with kids as well. You gotta love those people’s reactions XD

The door...

Sonic checked he needs a key to access the roof. Which is strange. In the beginning, we can see him run up some tall building. So why not here too? Simple... 1) Dr. Robotnik was chasing him, so he might have turn desperate and ran faster and more haphazardly then before. 2) He really wanted to stay with Tom and Maddie for the longest time possible <= Nail it! I’ve no doubt it’s this ;-) Sonic did “guilt-trip” Tom into helping him :-D

The last battle...

We know the story is Sonic’s memory leading to the final battle. Yet, when we get to the point Sonic didn’t run up a building. One would assume we would see similar/exact shot. But no problem here, the movie might have had “time-limit”, so instead of a repeat, we got something new ;-) 

The room painting...

When Tom goes and paints the wall with a freshly dipped paint roller, there is no wet mark. I’ve noticed it the moment I saw it. It’s kinda funny.

-----

Well, this seems to be everything I had on my mind :-) I’ve greatly enjoyed the movie that I go the second time <3

Thank you for reading <3 

[karliesbuzzcut]

When art really speaks to you, pt. 2: probably just a coincidence but idk

Disclaimer: all these theories are rabbit holes on their own, so trying to explain them in a couple of paragraphs is, automatically, doing them a disservice. Especially since I’m only going to be primarily addressing the part of the theory that focuses on the artist communicating with their public through their work.

Since I’ve already dedicated paragraphs to the introduction in part 1, let’s just jump into it.

Leonardo Da Vinci’s fuckton of theories.

Let’s start with the daddy of all conspiracies. After all, not many can gloat about their reachings becoming a movie starring Tom Hanks.

The thing with Da Vinci’s conspiracies is that there are so many of them, and they range from “maybe this is also a painting made by Da Vinci but he wasn’t credited because of reasons” to ALIENS. Which, I think, shows how different our interpretations of art can be, and how much it depends on an already established worldview.

But the most interesting part isn’t the conclusions, but how people look for clues. For example, just like people say Taylor Swift is obsessed with numbers or oranges (depending who you ask, I guess), Da Vinci was supposedly a big fan of reflections. So, if you want to decode his paintings you must mirror them... and then move then a little bit... there you go, you’ve just found yourself an alien...! Or a daemon...! Or someone wearing a funny hat! And that’s totally what he wanted us to find, right? Why else would he had shown any sort of interest in reflections if he didn’t want us to reflect everything!!

Shakespeare is an illusion... kinda, but yeah.

Personally, I think Kaylors would love to dig into this one. Sure, it doesn’t have many lesbians playing political spies. But it does involve a lot of literature analysis. Just like Kaylors don’t think a heterosexual woman could’ve written Taylor’s songs; some people (referred as anti-Stratfordians, thank you very much) don’t think someone from a lower class could’ve written Shakespeare’s plays. 

Here’s the tea... the very cold tea: because Shakespeare was the son of a glover, anti-Stratfordians say he couldn’t have had the knowledge to write his plays. They, instead, come up with a list of “more suitable” writers that could’ve worked together. But they decided to keep their identities a secret because being a play writer, at that time, wasn’t respectable. Here, we will start noticing a trend with Conspiracy Theories: society, as a whole, can’t handle the truth, only a selected few. That’s where Francis Bacon comes in.

Francis Bacon was a very smart dude. He, also, worked for the state - giving him the credentials to be worthy of writing Shakespeare calibre plays. And also, also, he developed a method to conceal messages in the presentation of a text. To be able to do this, you would need to use two typefaces. Guess what has more than one typeface? Shakespeare’s plays.

I have to say - while I don’t believe either theory we have seen, they are somewhat understandable. We barely know anything about Shakespeare and Da Vinci beyond their work, so it’s normal that people are trying to figure out who they were; what did they believed in; where did they get all of their knowledge. We like theorising about the answers to these questions, knowing we’ll never get a confirmed truth. Not so the case with our next conspiracy...

Lewis Carroll was Jack the Ripper - someone had to be, right?

Now, allow me to fangirl all over this one. It combines my interests for conspiracy theories, true crime and pop-culture.

I’m assuming everyone here knows about Jack the Ripper: a serial killer who murdered at least 5 people (mainly prostitutes) in London, between the years 1888 and 1891. Well, someone looked at this and thought “you know what this murder-mystery is missing? Famous people”. Well, this theory says that the author of Alice in Wonderland did it He was the only celebrity living nearby at the time of the killings, so... 🤷‍♀️

This becomes a case of “I have already made up my mind about this issue, so I’m going to go ahead and search for proof that confirms it”. Authors and, now, internet sleuths went through his books, selected this random-ass excerpt from the nursery version of Alice and decided it was an anagram. And a crappy one at that. Supposedly, if you arrange the letters you get a detailed and gruesome confession. You, however, have to take away some letter and add others. Listen, I’m not an English major, but I’ve heard that’s cheating.

This theory also has that characteristic we mentioned: the “I don’t want to admit it out loud, so I’m going to come up with convoluted ways for my audience to figure it out” - which almost borders on psychotic behaviour. But at least it, somewhat, works with the serial killer narrative, you know? Not very much with Taylor, a woman who simply wants to chill with her girlfriend.

The moon landing was fake and directed by Stanley Kubrick.

I’m not going to dig into the moon landing conspiracy, this post is going to be long enough already. Just know that, when the USA government was planning to fake the whole thing, they had just watched ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ and they were all like “that’s so cool! That’s how we want our fake moon landing to look!” So they contacted its director, Kubrick.

According to the theory, Kubrick felt really guilty afterwards but he couldn’t say anything about it because he signed an NDA? it would be dangerous, I guess. So he did the same thing Taylor would do decades later: he “spelled it out” for us on his work, under the excuse of “I didn’t explicitly said it, did I? My most intelligent and attractive fans just happened to figure it out for themselves”. 

The movie ‘The Shinning’ has been analysed to shreds. Think ‘Look What You Made Me Do’ music video, but 2 hours and 26 minutes instead. There are many theories about its underlying theme, but we’re only focusing on the moon landing one. The biggest piece of evidence, according to believers, comes from that famous scene in the hallway. Basically, the kid, Danny, is on the floor playing and wearing an Apollo 11 sweater. He stands up = the rocket launches. He walks to Room N.237. Which is almost an anagram for MOON - but actually, a perfect anagram for MORON - I didn’t come up with that joke, I’m just sharing it. Anyway. In the book, the room number is 217 but Kubrick changed it to 237 because there are 237,000 miles between the Earth and the Moon... except that’s not exactly true, but this is their Kissgate, you see? 

“Paul is Dead” aka “the granddaddy of Kaylor is Real”

Now, this is THE conspiracy theory. Kaylors would love to have the amount of evidence this theory has. Give them 50 years, they’ll get there. 

Our story starts in 1966, Paul McCartney dies in a car accident. The British Government panics, “this will drive our teenagers into a massive suicide!” So they cover it up. They find this guy who looks like Paul and hire him to replace the original. 

You might’ve only heard about those stores where pop-stars get their beards. But there’s also a branch that focuses on celebrity look-a-likes.

The rest of The Beatles went along with it (because that’s how these artists seem to operate, they’re always the victims of their circumstances) but they did not like it. So - you guessed it - they used their music, artwork, photo-shoots, etc. to communicate the truth. Faux-Paul might’ve felt a bit awkward about it, but he’s a nice chap and let the other guys work through their grief. 

Kaylors might have agreed on blue being the colour of breaks up and yellow is for Karlie-Sunshine; but the Paul-truthers concluded white is the colour of heaven, jeans are for gravediggers and black for morticians... oh! And not wearing shoes means you’re dead. Taylor being near a door symbolises her leaving the closet; Paul being near an open trunk symbolises him being in a coffin. Is the letter K, for Karlie, surrounding Taylor? Well, there’s a 28IF in the plaques of a car, for Paul being 28 IF he hadn’t died. People hear a phantasmagorical “she” in ‘Call It What You Want’; just like people heard “I buried Paul” in ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’.

If you have never looked up this theory, I seriously recommend it. There are so many parallels with Kaylor. Here’s a 30 minute video, if you’re interested. It summarises the theory neatly while discussing the effects that these, seemingly innocent, conspiracies have on the way we absorb information.

Paul might be dead but 2pac is very much alive.

If I haven’t made it clear by now, I think it’s very deceptive to use a musician’s lyrics to back up your alternate version of events. As confessional as these verses can be, they’re still a form of art. Which, in terms of music lyrics, they need to follow certain parameters, as well as a desired sound. And, as many other forms of art, they might focus a bit more on transmitting a feeling, rather than an accurate portrayal of reality.

Why am I stopping to say all of this now? Well, because this specific theory relies a lot on Tupac’s lyrics.

A bit of context: In 1996, Tupac Shakur was shot 4 times while at a stoplight. He died from his injuries days later. While there are theories, to this day, no one knows who killed him. Unless you believe one of those theories, which claims no one did.

The believers of this theory cite Tupac’s lyrics to argue that he was explicitly telling his fans that he was going to fake his own death. Here are two examples:

I’ve been shot and murdered, can’t tell you how it happened word for word but best believe that n*****’ gonna get what they deserve. - Richie Rich’s N***** Done Change

I heard rumours that I died murdered in cold blood, traumatised pictures of me in my final states — you know mama cried. But that was fiction, some coward got the story twisted - Aint’ Hard 2 Find

Just like anti-Kaylors don’t necessarily oppose the idea of Taylor being gay; I bet the “antis” of this theory aren’t happy Tupac died and weren’t against his existence on the first place. It’s more of an argument about confusing your feelings with facts, just because they can be more comforting or exciting.

“Avril Lavigne is dead”... or “every artist you think is alive is, actually, dead and, the ones you think are dead, aren’t” I guess.

After everything we have seen, this one isn’t that interesting. The real Avril died in 2003, right after her first album. Her record label bought a new one. Proof? She says ‘dead’ in ‘My Happy Ending’, blah, blah. A poor man’s “Paul is Dead”.

I added it, mainly for the lulz, after the last entry, I needed them. But also because it all started with a blog. What’s hilarious is that the guy who created it admitted he only did it to show how gullible people are but, at that point, he had already convinced people about. The conspirators didn’t need him anymore. So they discarded him but not the Theory... which just reminds me a little too much of how TCG, HBH, Jennyboom &co. have been excommunicated from the Church of Kaylor.

Beyonce and Jay Z are members of the sexy sexy Illuminati.

I did not save the best for last. But maybe I’m just biased because the Illuminati theory bores me to death. However, if you allow me a bit of social criticism... remember how the Shakespeare Conspiracy started because a bunch of classicist people didn’t believe a lower class citizen could write such good plays? I think this one has a bit of that. I’d bet my life that this one started when a bunch of white dudes got super uncomfortable by black people being so talented and earning their successful.

What this Conspiracy shows, too, is the amplifying effect the internet has had on the proliferation of such theories. Most of the conspiracies I’ve mentioned were huge... but how were you supposed to communicate your ideas and add to the old ones, before the internet? You could publish a book. Talk about it at parties. And, at some point, there were internet forums but, still, you can’t compare that to how widespread Social Media is nowadays. 

Today, we can watch someone ramble for 2 hours on YouTube about how Beyonce looks like a robot if you watch Single Ladies in reverse; read someone’s dissertation of ‘Apeshit’; or spend all night looking at those pictures where someone has drawn a red circle around anything that resembles a triangle. 

It might look like a lot of evidence but that’s only because there are a lot of people very attached to this theory. Wanting - for whatever reason - for it to be true (perhaps because it would confirm that their fears about the world were well founded). And all those dozens or hundredths of people were working together to form as many patterns as possible.

Unfortunately we are going to keep talking about the Illuminati in Part 3 but also about Taylor, so that should be nice. Because - to the surprise of absolutely no one - there’s a bunch of people who also think they understand Taylor better than the rest. That they have figured out her secret codes and her ultimate message. Only, not all of those theories involve lesbian supermodels, so they aren’t as popular on Tumblr.

[jimclassicstoycollection]

Transformers

Masterpiece 25

Tracks

Tracks is a Masterpiece Transformer which I bought off of a Chinese Ebay seller. I’m not sure if this is an official toy, or just a really good knock off, but I got for about $30.

I’m not exactly sure if I would call Tracks one of my favorite Autobots, but I love his alt mode of being a Corvette Stingray.

Collector’s Card:

Like all MP Transformers, Tracks comes with a collector’s card. It’s Tracks in all three modes, with the series number, and on the back we see his stats, and a bunch of Japanese text.

I’m not gonna lie...I’m not a big an of the art work. I love good Transformers box art (especially with the G1, Siege and Earthrise toys), but what’s on this collector’s card isn’t winning me over...

Track’s colors don’t pop, the back ground is dusty and muted, and I’m not a fan of the posing of the robot mode or the pose.

Accessories:

Tracks comes with quite a few things.

Flight stand-

Well it’s a flight stand, what more do you want? It’s solid black with a silver Autobot stamp on it. It has three hinges; the base one, and second one are ratcheted, while the one at the top isn’t... for some reason.

Which is a problem because the tip hinge isn’t floppy, but it’s not load bearing...You peg Tracks into the stand you’ll have to position the other two ratcheted hinges to into where they need to be, and hope that the third will stay in place. 

Raule-

Raule is Tracks’ human friend; he was only in two, or three episodes of the G1 cartoon, but he was a memorable character.

The figure is a static object, he’s painted well, aside from the blob of paint at the base, and he don’t have any facial details, just the sculpting details.

Blaster- Not the gun, I’m talking about the Autobot, Blaster in his boombox mode; it’s a nice touch. I suppose, technically you could say that I also have a MP Blaster too. >:D

Hand gun-

Tracks is armed with a tiny hand gun. There’s not much to say about it, it’s gray plastic, with painted silver. It looks okay for what it is; my only issue with it is that sometimes it can be tricky to place in Tracks’ hand.

Flight gun-

This gun is also painted silver, and clips onto the from of the corvette to be used for the flight mode. It looks like something else, but this is a family friendly channel. Who am I kidding, no it’s not; but I’m not saying what it looks like...

Vehicle Mode:

Tracks’ vehicle mode is a blue Corvette Stingray with red flames on the hood; he was making it cool before Hotrod. 

Personal bias, I love the curves this car has to offer.

The hood opens up to reveal the engine; it’s pretty much just a superficial layer of sculpting but it is a nice touch. 

The car has rubber tires and it rolls pretty well, however I’m concerned that the  under kibble might get caught on things if you’re not careful; so I’d be mindful of that.

Flight Mode:

That is a flying car, alright.

Transformation to the flight mode does require opening up the back end of the car a lot, and the back end is quite fiddly, but once you get everything out and where it needs to be this is fun for what it is. 

I wouldn’t exactly call Tracks a triple changer since he still retains the look of the Corvette, just with added wings, intake engines, maneuvering rudders and rockets. It sounds like a lot, but it really isn’t.

Transformation:

Transformation to robot mode gets easier the more you do it. At first I hated it, but after doing it a couple of times it’s not so bad. The back half of the car where the arms, wings, and rockets come out will never not be a fiddly mess, and I am concerned about the thinner plastic which has been used to hold the back end on; that is a part which should be dicast metal.

Robot Mode:

In robot mode Tracks looks a lot bigger than his car mode; must be that mass shifting...

I’ve always appreciated Tracks (original G1 version’s) unique look; I don’t think he ever had a mold mate within the Transformers series; I know there’s a red variant of the G1, and the MP Tracks, but I’m pretty sure the red one is his old Diaclone toy.

But as a car-former bot Tracks has a pretty unique look to him.

His royal blue colors, the popping yellow and red Autobot symbol, Tracks’ random red face, and even the wings coming out from behind the shoulders

Looking at Track from the front, everything looks like it should; he’s what a 21st Century update to an 80′s toy should look like, however once you turn Tracks around he can be a bit bulky, and irritating.

It’s the back end of the car; it’s just big and floppy, and it just doesn’t peg in anywhere.

Tracks can also be placed on the stand too for more action poses, and let’s go over his articulation:

Ball jointed head, three different joints which make up the shoulder joints (integral for transformation) bicep swivel, bend at the elbow, wrist swivel, wrist flex (part of the transformation), hinge at the fingers, waist swivel, universal hips, thigh swivel, bend at the knee, and ball jointed foot.

That’s not too bad, though I do admit I’m concerned about that ball jointed ankle

Final Thoughts:

Tracks is pretty cool!

Masterpiece Tracks has a great vehicle mode, a pretty fun transformation, and a decent robot mode. All things considered I’m glad I didn’t pay up to the amount of $70 for this figure...

...but keep in mind, “Some people got the juice, and some don’t!”

[lilikags]

Rebecca Glisson (original story based off prompt)

Prompt: every baby is taken away by the government and returned when they are ten years old. They never remember what happened in those years, but they always recognize their parents. You, however, remember everything. And those aren’t your parents.

Huff. Huff. Huff. I felt my heart beat faster than it ever had. My legs ached, sore from running. My long, dark brown hair almost fell out of its ponytail, and it covered my eyes, which were sore from tears. 

"Stop right there!" a voice called out. It sounded like it was from an officer. oh no I ran harder, going in whichever direction my legs would take me. Though I knew I wouldn't be able to run much longer, I kept running. It's all I had left to do anyways. It was my only choice- my only choice to stay alive. 

No matter what, I was going to keep running, until I couldn't. Yes, until I couldn't. Until the officer caught up to me and grabbed me by the arm. "Let go!" I struggled to break free from his grasp, but he was too strong for me. I knew that from the very start though; there was no way for a mere 10 year old child to be stronger than a grown man. Soon enough, I passed out, probably from fatigue and exhaustion, and I was taken to the place I'm in now.

I didn't introduce myself, but that was intentional. But now I will. I'm Lila- Lila Harnsworth. Just call me Lila though. Actually, my last name isn't Harnsworth. It's Glisson. Though, I've been told my family's name was Harnsworth, but they're wrong. They lied. The government lied. I haven't a clue as to why they would do this, but they do- my parents. Like everyone else, I was taken away as a child by the government and am supposed to be returned to my parents when I turn 10. My birthday was a few days ago, and I was returned to "my family". But they weren't my family. It was someone else's family. How did I know? They didn't look like my parents at all. I've always had a good memory; I could remember the best of details of just about anything I saw ever since I was born. Apparently the government must have forgotten about it, because they wouldn't have sent me here if I knew it wasn't my family.

The first day was nice. Mrs. Harnsworth made me my favorite food, mashed potatoes and gravy, and Mr. Harnsworth and David Harnsworth, their son, treated me nicely. But then, yesterday, they started acting a bit strangely. All of their reactions seemed much more fake than the day before, and I knew they had to be planning something. I couldn't just outright tell them I knew something, since they would probably just force it on me. So, I tried to play along, but it didn't' work. In the end, they still got to me. 

That night, I was going to bed in my little room, which was big enough to hold a bed and a table, with a nice little chair. The walls were painted a happy yellow and decorated with flowers. I fell asleep quickly, for a reason I'm not exactly clear on. I suspect I was drugged, but I'm not completely sure. When I woke up, I was more tired than usual, which I also think is a side effect of a drug I was most likely fed during dinner. I attempted to open the door, but it wouldn't open. The door seemed to be locked from the outside, and I couldn't get out. I called for someone to open my door, but no one answered. I waited until lunch to call for someone again, and no one answered. 

I was done staying with this family. They acted nice, drugged me, and locked me in a room. I knew I'd probably live a miserable life with them. I had one escape route- a window. I picked the lock on it with a paperclip and slid it open. I hopped out of the window and landed on my feet. It didn't hurt too much, so I just started running. I just wanted to run as far as I would, maybe meet a family who would take care of me. Maybe I'll find my real parents. Who knows. But all I need to do now is survive. That's my number one priority.

So, back to the present. I'm in a police department, in a prison cell. Yes, a prison cell. It sounds horrible, doesn't it? Putting a child in a prison cell? It's bad, just not terrible. I'm looking out the window, wondering if I could escape from there. I have two options. One, convince the officers to take me to my real parents. Two, run away again. 

The first one is better if they actually comply to my request, but I doubt it. Two seems like the better option, but there's a good chance I'll get caught. So, I'm just sitting here. 

"Hey, kid," an officer with a warm smile greeted me. I waved back, trying to act casual. 

"We're going to have to talk to you. You know running away from your parents isn't good, right? You must miss them already though, right? We'll get you back to them as soon as possible. Don't worry." he looked at you as if he was trying to reassure me, and I do pity him for not realizing that something that definitely off with that family. It was so obvious even a ten year old could tell. 

"Actually," I started, to get his attention. "I would like to speak to your team as well. I would like to have a nice, long discussion, so please prepare some time. I won't rush you though, I know you're busy, so it's only fair for you to choose the time. After all, I'm the one with all the time in the world."

His eyes told me that he was surprised with the way I spoke, but he refocused himself quickly. He decided to play along, and said, "Alright. We'll call you when we have time to talk. Sound good?" 

"Yes," I confirmed. 

So, the only thing I could do is wait.

~Timeskip: the next day~

I woke up at sunrise. I know I'm never going to grow tall like this, but I've been on alert for too long recently. It's been affecting my sleep, but that's okay. I'm getting enough sleep, so it's fine. I stretched and waited for the next meal to come. I was staring out a window when the officer from yesterday came back, "If you're ready, we can have that conversation now if you like."

I nodded, and he guided me out of the cell. I didn't' bother to look at the hallways closely, I was too focused on what I was going to say. He took me to a room with a table, and it had some chocolate chip cookies on it. *So, they're going to bribe me with cookies?* He took one for himself and offered me one. Reluctantly, I took one and ate it. It was really good. Guess it was supposed to make me put down my guard. It won't work as well though, since I've figured it out. I waited a couple minutes for the one who was going to interrogate me, and a woman, maybe in her 40's, walked in. 

"Hello, Lila Harnsworth. It's nice to meet you." she shook hands with me.

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you too," I responded.

"I heard you requested a meeting, is that right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"I assume the reason you wanted to talk with us is related to your actions?"

"Yes, I would like to speak about that. I remember everything I see. I remember my family from years ago, before I was taken away. And when I was "returned to my family", I was taken to the wrong family. I'm not  Lila Harnsworth. I'm Lila Glisson. If possible, could you return me to my family?"

I waited for an answer for a whole minute, staring that the woman in front of me. 

"Lila, you must be mistaken. There's no family in this town by the name of Glissen. You're Lila Harnsworth, the youngest child of the Harnsworth family. I'm afraid we'll have to return you to Mrs. and Mr. Harnsworth." 

I was about to object, but I knew it would make it even worse. I was escorted into a police car, and I looked out the window the whole ride.

When we arrived at the Harnsworth house, I had my head down and looked only at the ground. For now, I'd have to stay until I could formulate a proper plan. And I bet they locked the window too. I'd have to find another way out then. 

I was taken back inside, and I was greeted by the couple with "warm hugs and kisses". They were so fake I was still surprised everyone else couldn't tell.  I kept looking down as much as I could, looking as monotone as possible. 

Slam. A door slammed open and everyone turned around. There stood a beautiful woman with the same dark brown hair and green eyes as me. I knew it right away. It was my mother, Rebecca Glisson.

Thank you, my dear friend AC for this prompt! I love it uwu <3

Credits: Original header image is by Alberto Lucas Pérez on Unsplash

[enlacinglineswrites]

A drabble for day 15′s Julance prompt that became Klancey. I just can’t resist making them happy together. 

Hope you enjoy!

————————– Lance takes his cat for walks. 

It started off as a joke by his sister. Red is beauty incarnate…in Lance’s eyes. He does understand why others struggle to see it. When he was seventeen, he’d heard crying from an alleyway on his way home from school, only to find a starving, mangy cat scrabbling against the lid of a dustbin. Immediately, he fished her out, unperturbed by the scratches he received in return. 

His arms were red with the raised welts for days. Hence her name. 

He’d thought at first when he’d taken her to the vet, she was an old cat; on her last legs and abandoned. But after an examination, the vet informed them she was only around a year old, but a year of living off scraps without care had made her seem far older. 

Lance loved her before they even left the vet’s office, probably loved her from the moment she stared up at him with her bright yellow eyes from the bottom of the bin. So when no owner could be found, his mother relented and allowed him to keep her. 

Even after all the love and care he and his family could muster, Red still didn’t ever quite stop looking like a stray. Her fur grew in patches, a scar over her left eye making it difficult for it to open fully. Added to her tendency to sit underneath cars and get covered in grease, she seemed to be permanently dirty. 

(On meeting her for the first time, Pidge had asked with delight why he had the cat from Pet Sematary. Red seemed to have taken that as a compliment, for despite Lance’s protests, she loved Pidge more than any of his friends). 

Five years later and Red is now queen of his small apartment, surveying all beneath with a pleased glance. Therein lies the problem, though. Unlike when he lived with his parents, there isn’t much space for a cat to roam outside, his apartment situated on a main road. Red tends to only leave to do what’s necessary, but otherwise just stares at Lance as if to say ‘do you seriously want me to go out in this?’

Unfortunately, it’s causing her health issues. And while to Lance she is always his beautiful Princess, the vet seems to think otherwise. So when Veronica jokingly said he should take her out on a lead, Lance thought he’d give it a try. And only partly to annoy his sister. 

Weirdly though, Red loves it. He assumed she would be offended by his attaching the lead to her collar, but she doesn’t seem to mind; happy to stroll where he guides and glare at passing people, cars and runners. He secretly thinks she feels she’s taking him for a walk, or at least allowing him the pleasure of her company. She does look regal every time they stop, Lance having to document each and every trip out. 

His instagram is basically a dedicated page to Red at this point. He thinks she’d probably say ‘as it should be.’ 

It’s while they are strolling through a park that the dog appears. Well, it can barely be called a dog, it’s huge. Lance is pretty certain wolves aren’t allowed in parks, but as that thought occurs, the dog-wolf notices them. Or more specifically, Red. It’s ears perk up and it runs straight for them, Lance grimacing at the speed. 

He tugs on Red’s lead, hoping to spur them away long enough for it’s owner to find the dog-wolf and take it away. Assuming it has an owner, it did materialise as if from nowhere, and it’s size is so vast it could be wild for all Lance knows about dogs. 

Red responds to Lance’s tug by sitting down. 

“Red, noo don’t be stubborn come on,” he hisses, trying again as the dog nears. 

He’s a second away from scooping up his cat, scratches be damned, when the dog slows down. He blinks as it changes seamlessly from a bounding gallop to a trot as it reaches them. Then, it sits down opposite Red, before lowering itself into its front paws, almost as if it’s bowing. Red stays exactly where she is, staring at the dog. 

“What the hell?” Lance says to himself. 

Has his cat hypnotised a dog? Enchanted it into obeying her? Does he now by proxy, own a wolf? Just as he’s marvelling at what’s occured, a shout reaches his ears. 

“Kosmo! I’m so sorry, he broke his lead it’s-”

The person trails off and Lance just stares. For this dog-wolf apparently does have an owner. A cute owner. Dark unruly hair in a hasty ponytail; probably asque from running after ‘Kosmo,’ pieces slipping away to fall into his face. He’s dressed in a bright red hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark jeans, a brightly coloured lead with hippos all over it clutched in his hand. His nails are painted a dark mauve colour, and he’s biting his lip in concern as he approaches. 

Lance swallows, the way the man worries at his lip far too distracting, and stares at him, who in turn stares at the scene before him. Then, he looks up, and Lance has to force himself to not make any sort of unexpected noise at the intense purple-grey eyes that meet his own. 

“Are you walking a cat?” the stranger says, looking entirely confused. 

“Are you walking a wolf?” Lance counters, wondering why he’s suddenly trying to match this stranger word for word. 

However, the man just smiles, and it’s a good look on him; lightening his whole face and makes Lance want to step closer, see that smile in minute detail. 

“He’s part wolf and…yeah. But he likes to break free,” he says, holding up the snapped lead. 

“Want some help fixing it?” Lance offers, although he has no idea how he’ll be of any use. 

But his words cause the man to flush ever so slightly, a tiny pinking to his cheeks as he nods. 

Lance grins. “I’m Lance, and this is Red,” he says, gesturing to his cat who still sits primly, staring up at them. 

The man smiles at nods at Red, who blinks once in reply. Lance is certain it’s on purpose. 

“I’m Keith, and this is Kosmo,” he says, then steps closer to his dog, showing Lance the break they need to fix. 

And as Lance bends down to take a look, he sees Red pointedly tip her head at him; definitely her version of ‘you’re welcome.’

——————–

My Ao3 | Instagram | Twitter

[the--blackdahlia]

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 7 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 7

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings:  Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

Check out my Patreon for more!!!

“Hey loser!” Athena laughed.

“Bitch.” (Y/n) laughed. “Sorry, I got sidetracked.”

“Oh? And what exactly distracted you to the point that you got “side tracked” huh?” Athena teased.

“Her new boyfriend.” Vanessa teased. (Y/n) let them into the house.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” She told them.

“Not yet anyways,” Vanessa muttered too Athena. “He is hot and they are cute together.”

“Oh? Who is it?” Athena asked. (Y/n) shot a glare at Vanessa.

“No one. Just a guy I met when I was ditched at the concert.” (Y/n) told Athena.

“See, it was a good thing I left you back there you got to meet someone!” Athena smiled. “But I am sorry I left you behind. That was shitty of me.”

“It’s okay. You and Tommy both left me, so it wasn’t just you.” She flopped on the couch.

“(Y/n),” Athena said softly. “You know I kid around, but I am proud of you. You are doing better than myself or Tommy every could in the brains department.”

“Does he know how smart you really are?” Vanessa asked. “I mean, he knows your in college, but does he know you skipped grades and are probably graduating by Christmas?”

“I don’t like to brag.” (Y/n) said. “Plus, what if he thinks I’m just some nerd or something?” Vaness and Athena looked at each other.

“(Y/n),” Athena said softly. “Where is this coming from? I know Tommy is an asshole but that’s because he’s jealous of you. I mean hell, I was a little bit jealous of you, but we all have our strengths and weaknesses.”

“He’s just...he’s so cool and I live at home. I don’t have a car. I just feel like we’re so different and I can’t figure out why he likes me.” She sighed. “Anyway, pizzas here.” She went up to get it. Athena looked over at Vanessa.

“Who is this mysterious “cool dude”?” Athena whispered to her.

“Sorry Thena,” Vanessa shook her head. “Not my place to tell you. I am loyal to the end.”

“Damn. I thought I could get the details.” She sighed. “I wonder if I know him.”

“Thena, she really likes him. And what you and Tommy filled her head with is not ok,” Vanessa sighed. “She is so unsure of herself that… what she needs is confidence. We know she won’t get it from Tommy but you’re her sister, she needs you.”

“I’m gonna kill Tommy someday.” Athena sighed. “We’ll take her shopping tonight and get her a kick ass outfit.” (Y/n) came back with the pizza for them.

“Ok, so after Pizza we have some time to go out and shop for some clothes!” Vanessa smiled as she grabbed a slice and moaned in satisfaction.

“Shopping? Why?” (Y/n) asked. “Why do we need to go shopping? Do I not have the right clothes?”

“(Y/n),” Athena said gently, “for a date this special where a you really like a guy… sometimes it nice to get something new and make yourself feel good.” Athena gave her a pat on her cheek. “Trust me little sister, you are gorgeous, and your clothes are fine, but this is to knock him dead.”

“Well, okay.” She ate her pizza. “Let’s do this then.”

“(Y/n)?” Athena looked at her.

“Yeah?” (Y/n) asked, looking over at her sister.

“You know you’re beautiful right?” her sister smiled at her. “Tommy is an asshole and just jealous that he only attracks skanks. But sis, you are amazing and you know that mom and dad are proud right?” (Y/n) nodded and smiled some.

“Thanks ‘Thena.” (Y/n) smiled at her. “You guys make me feel a lot better.”

“That’s what sisters and best friends are for.” Athena said as she hugged (Y/n).

“Now, I just gotta deal with a small little lie I might have told him…” (Y/n) sighed. “I told him I lived in the dorms with Nessa. He’s been dropping me off there instead of here.” She looked around. “Maybe while mom and dad are gone, I could slowly start moving into the dorms? Or I could tell him something happened and I had to move back home?”

“Ohhhhh, ouch.” Athena winced. “That one is tough, I mean… what are you going to tell mom and dad?”

“I don’t know,” (Y/n) sighed. “We came up with the plan of me living at home since the college is so close, so I could just commute there and save some money. He’s gonna think I’m a big liar about everything.”

“Not if you tell him about why you lied about it,” Vanessa sighed. “He shouldn’t be kept in the dark about this. I mean sure he’ll be mad. But if he doesn;t get over it then he isn’t the guy for you. However, he does seem like a nice guy. You never know.”

“Nessa is right (Y/n/n),” Athen ate another slice of pizza. “This is something you should come clean about.”

“On the first date though? Well, technically third, or fourth.” Athena coughed some. “You okay?”

“Third or fourth?” she took a sip of water. “I thought this was a first date?”

“She’s seen him a couple of times by chance since meeting him a t the concert,” Vanessa covered for Y/N. “So officially where he picks her up and takes her on a nice date yes. But, they have seen eachother in circumstances that have turned into date.” she cleaned her hands and looked to Athena and (Y/n). “Well? What are you bitches waiting for? Let’s go.”

*******

“Look guys, I know your brother is in Motley Crue, but do we have to listen to them?” Vanessa asked. “This album is kinda annoying.”

“You’re just jealous.” (Y/n) laughed, but she ejected the cassette and Athena turned on the radio. “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” came blaring from the car speakers.

“Better?” Athena asked Vanessa with a laugh.

“Much!” Vanessa smiled as she sang the lyrics. “This is the perfect song for us!” (Y/n) smiled and leaned back in her seat as she looked out at the strip as they passed. Motley Crue’s name on the sign at the Whiskey and she wished that she could see Nikki. She wondered if he was even thinking of her.

Nikki sat in the dressing room, he sighed softly wishing that (Y/n) would be out in the audience. Shaking his head he tried to concentrate on the gig. He didn’t notice the other guys looking at him weird.

“Dudes,” Tommy whispered to Vince and Mick. “How hot is this chick?”  

“She’s pretty hot.” Vince admitted. “Just saying, they don’t work out, I’d do her.”

“She’s smart. And doesn’t spend ten minutes trying to find the right words.” Mick added. Tommy looked over at Nikki.

“I have to meet this chick!” Tommy whispered. “What does she look like?”

“Can we seriously stop talking about my girlfriend as if I’m not in the room?” Nikki glared at them. “You guys sound like a bunch of old hags. Hell Mick is an old hag!” Nikki said as he tuned his bass.

“I’m THE old hag asshole. Get it right. Dumbass.” Mick grumbled, getting his guitar.

“Hey, I’m just saying she’s really hot.” Vince shrugged. “Can’t wait to meet that friend of hers though.”

“Well man I just can’t wait to meet this chick!” Tommy gave a grin and nodded his head. “If she’s as hot and smart as you say she is, I’m impressed she isn’t imaginary.”  

“Like the three of us idiots got together and planned up a fake girl to piss you off?” Nikki asked.

“Actually, that does kinda sound like something we’d do.” Vince laughed.

Nikki shook his head, “Can we focus please, we go on in five.” he said getting the set list ready.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mick said. Tommy got his sticks and stretched.

“Let’s do this my dudes!” Tommy called out.

The boys went out and played to a full house. Nikki was able to focus only because he reminded himself he would be seeing (Y/n) tomorrow. He smiled at the crowd not looking at anyone in particular as they rolled through their set. He swore a couple times he saw (Y/n) in the crowd, but nothing.

After the set was over, they made their way backstage.

“I gotta go get some new pants.” Tommy groaned.

“What’s you do pee on them?” Vince snorted.

“Awwww, did little Tommy wet himself?” Nikki added.

“NO! I got paint all over this and not even a cool color.” Tommy whined.

“Oh the humanity,” Mick said in a monotone voice. “Someone call the national guard! It’s a travesty to fashion.”

“You guys are all assholes.” Tommy sighed. “I stole these from my sister anyway.”

“Which one?” Vince asked.

“Might have been (Y/n)’s, but I’m not sure.” Tommy said. Mick looked up and looked from Nikki to Tommy.

“(Y/n)?” Nikki muttered and shrugged. “Sounds like my girl’s name, small world.”

“Huh? Really?” Tommy looked at Nikki. “You’re girl’s name is (Y/n)? I didn’t think it was that common.” he shrugged.

“Well, I’m out. See you guys later.” Nikki said, heading out.

“Same. Gotta get new pants. Later!” Tommy yelled. Mick looked over at Vince.

“Holy shit.” Mick told him.

“What?” Vince said as he fixed his hair getting ready to pick up some chicks.

“Nikki’s dating Tommy’s sister.” Mick said, a little in shock.

“What!? You’re crazy man, no way.” Vince dismissed him and sighed. “It’s just a coincidence that they have the same name, that’s all. Besides, (Y/n) is way too hot to be Tommy’s sister.”

“She looks like Tommy!” Mick said. “You can see it in the eyes!”

Forever tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316  @horrorpxnk

Motley Crue Tags:  @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @flamencodiva @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @livingdeadharley @motleycrying

Too Young to Fall in Love Tags:  @kingbouji3 @leximus98 @thekidbakerinthetardis

[like-the-wings-of-butterflies]

Watercolours (Queen x Artist!Reader)

Summary: Following a difficult few weeks you beg the boys to take you with them to Ridge Farm where they then discover a small secret of yours.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,574 (No wonder it took me forever to write)

A/N: It’s 1:15am and this. was. exhausting. I’m posting a bit later then what I originally planned but as promised, it’s here. This one took a bit of a turn to what I started with but in the end, I think I’m fairly happy with it. Let me know what you think! ♡ (Not my gif)

When you heard Freddie, John, Brian and Roger were taking a road trip to the countryside to record their next album, you practically begged them to let you join. Not only so you could witness the boys create something extraordinary; a new era of Queen, but it also provided the opportunity to escape the recent painfully restless nights in London, where your small apartment felt the slightest bit too cramped for comfort. Your seemingly endless work and responsibilities leaving you tired and burnt out. With the suffocating feeling in your chest becoming far too strong, you knew you needed to step away from the busy world, even for a short while.

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

“Please Freddie, I’m begging you.”

“Hmmmm...I’m not sure. John? What do you think, should we bring our little tyrant or leave her behind?” Freddie teases.

“I vote leave her behind.” He puffs

“Hey! Just because I’m good at stopping your fights does not make me a tyrant. If it weren’t for me you would’ve all killed each other by now.”

“Us? Fighting? Never.” Roger drawls, his tone equally as teasing as the other two. 

Brian sat in the background watching the situation unfold, lightly giggling at your exasperation. It was without question you were going. Even if you didn’t want to, they’d still find a way to convince you. It wasn’t as if they were oblivious to your moods over the past few weeks, it pained them to see you so stressed and exhausted and they knew that disconnecting was exactly what you needed. Plus it meant you all had some time to spend with one another, an occurrence that’d be becoming slightly more rare with their busy schedules. Simply, you needed them and they needed you.

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

When the day finally came, you couldn’t contain your excitement for the whole journey. It was almost as if the second you stepped out of the car you felt instantly relieved of the pressures that had been troubling you for so long. After taking in a breath of fresh air studying your surroundings you then turned to the others, “Isn’t it beautiful?” After taking a drag of his cigarette Roger spoke up “I thought this was supposed to be a recording studio.” Clearly the boys weren’t as sold on the new setting as you were. Paul had shown you all to your rooms and told you to make yourself comfortable as recording would start in a few day’s time after everyone had settled in. The five days that followed were slow but still comforting. The new setting caused a shift in everyone’s attitude, provided an opportunity to take a load off and relish in the simple atmosphere.

Mainly you just settled into the new environment, making yourself familiar with the in’s and out’s of the place. Apart of course from the evening you and Brian decided to go for a walk together, getting caught in the rain and running back to the house, only to find that Roger had locked you out despite denying your claims. (Even though it was easily distinguishable from his howling laughter on the other side of the door). But soon enough, everything was set up and the boys were ready to start.

On the first day, Freddie insisted you stay next door and spend the morning taking a moment to yourself: “You’ve been stuck with us the past five days, at least take a hour or so to yourself.” He said. You realised he was right, the entire point of you going on the trip was so you could think through some things and figure out what to do next. As much as you enjoyed your time with the four, spending every waking moment with them somewhat defeated the purpose.

“Alright,” You smiled, “But you’ll be next door if I need you, yes?”

“Always Darling.”

Somehow they knew exactly what you needed, exactly when you needed. One thing the boys didn’t know about you however, was that you held a certain passion for art. Though you didn’t think of yourself much more then a hobbyist, your work said otherwise. Originally, you started out painting landscapes but as your friendship with Queen developed, you saw more enjoyment in painting them. They brought a new essence into your life, which then reflected in your work.

After settling down at the dining table with your supplies spread all over it, the small tin of watercolours making a quiet ‘clang’ as you placed them down, you flicked through the leather-bound folio. Knowing you had a couple hours on your own you made the bold choice to work on a few unfinished sketches from the last show you visited, it wasn’t as if anyone would see, you’d just have to pack up before noon when they came back for lunch. You didn’t exactly enjoy keeping your hobby a secret but you struggled to overcome the anxieties of not being good enough and kept your work solely for your eyes only. With your work station set, you began. You hand moved effortlessly across the paper, and the whirlwind of colours bled into one another. Each pencil and brush stroke placed with a calculated precision. A certain love and care that could only be highlighted through art.

Just as everything was going well, a heavy gust of wind blew though the open window, sending pages flying, scattering pencils and spilling the small dish of water you had out to clean your brushes. Cursing to yourself for not closing the window earlier, you hurriedly soaked up the water with a nearby cloth, hoping it hadn’t ruined any of your paintings and in the process; knocked your tea off of the table, thus resulting in the cup shattering on the hardwood floor.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright Love?” John’s voice called out, the barn door creaking as it opened and closed behind him.

“We heard something fall, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t hurt yourself.” Brian added.

“No no, I’m fine. I just spilled my tea is all. You can go back to recording, I can manage.”

As they turned the corner you held your breath hoping your body would block their view from the small disaster behind you.

“Well you look suspicious.” Brian said matter-of-factly.

“Everything’s fine, I’ll clean it up. No need to worry.” As you were speaking to Brian, in the corner of your eye you say John’s head tilt slightly to the side, your open sketchbook and art supplies now in his full view. A small smiles played on his lips, “Is that Fred?” He said, nodding toward a stray piece of paper.

“What? No, I mean yes,” In that moment you knew there wasn’t any redemption. Would they think it’s strange? Surely they would, otherwise you wouldn’t have hidden it for so long. The press taking photos is one thing but their friend using them as a muse without their knowledge is whole other ordeal in its own.

And at that moment, just like clockwork, Roger and Freddie walked in. “What’s going on?” The black haired male asked.

“(Y/N)’s an artist apparently, a bloody good one at that.” John said as he picks up some of the sketches you’d been painting over.

“No, that’s certainly not what’s happening, I umm-,” Although you knew it was already far too late, you scrambled for the loose pages that escaped your sketchbook, silently praying that they wouldn’t see any more then what they already had. Despite your efforts, each of the boys had already picked up various pieces and were studying each one in immense detail. The swirls of colour and carefully places lines depicted Freddie flaunting on stage, John and Brian deep in concentration during their respective solos, Roger twirling drumsticks in his hands and finally, the group taking their final bows at the end of the show. Each piece held a certain vibrancy that they hadn’t seen before.

“I never knew you saw us like this,” Roger breathes out in disbelief, holding the pages up to the light and studying them further.

You hesitated for a moment, but then spoke, “What do you mean? Of course I do, you’re my family.” You still felt shy but you spoke honestly nonetheless. “I can’t quite describe it but when you’re performing you’re just, in your element doing what you love. You’re all just so raw and so, you. I like trying to capture that.”

“What? When do you even-?” Freddie pressed.

Scratching the back of you head you went on, “I usually sketch while you’re performing and then I’ll paint that night after you’ve all gone back to your hotel rooms. It distracts me from my own thoughts I guess.” An uneasy silence filled the air. “These ones were from your tour in Sweden, I’ve been meaning to finish them for a while but never really got around to it. I know they’re not the best and doing this without you knowing is strange but-”

“Oh shut up.” Roger said, pulling you into a hug.

“They’re amazing,” John paused “We don’t want you thinking otherwise.”

“Especially with the way you go on when we’re feeling insecure about our playing.” Brian added.

“I only go on about it because you blatantly ignore you’re talented.” You interject, lightly pouting.

“And look who’s blatantly ignoring their own talent now,” Freddie smirks. “I’d even go as far to say you made me look too handsome.”

[silvensei]

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 4 (2k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev | next >

- - - - - - - - - -

“And you’re sure Markus will be okay with…y’know, all this? Like it won’t freak him out if I just walk up to him as not you?”

“He is a leader for a reason: he’s reasonable.”

“Mm. Good reason.”

“Just explain it to him from the beginning. Offer to share the day’s memories if that’ll be easier—oh!” Connor shifted in the driver’s seat to fully face his partner and held up a hand. “Not a memory transfer! That’s a different process altogether. That’s what we did to switch. Markus technically is part of the same prototype series as me, so it might prompt for a complete memory transfer—don’t do that one!”

“I got it, Mom: Don’t accidentally kill myself.” Hank shut the door, leaning his forearms on the open window. “As for you, just lay low. You can tell Jeffrey that you’re you if you want, he’s probably heard worse from me before, but maybe don’t let it get out into the whole precinct. Not only would CyberLife get snippy about their secret plans leaking too much, but can you imagine the hell Gavin would raise? Christ.”

Connor paused. “I’m not sure if I can, but I’m sure he would be troublesome.”

Hank laughed. He had heard Connor laugh before, on very rare occasions, but he didn’t think it ever sounded this relaxed and easy. It really gave his rough voice an amicable quality. “Swing back here when you’re done? Or call if it’s more than an hour?”

“Can do, Lieutenant.”

He stepped away from the car as Connor shifted out of park. “Careful with the wheels,” he called before starting down the driveway toward the Manfred house.

In the corner of his vision, the external temperature reading increased to 67.7°F (19.8°C). Focusing on the readout expanded the widget: RH 58.1%, Precip. 12%, Wind 3 mph NW, Sunset 8:52 PM, Moon Phase—

He looked away. It was still there—being a heads-up display and all—but the gesture dismissed the weather. Who could possibly need that much information. No one. It’s been bombarding him from all sides with random facts and figures and updates ever since he woke up like this a couple hours ago (2 hr 32 m 57 s). No wonder Connor was such a know-it-all: his programming forced him to be. Hank slowed his stroll. What was Connor going through right now, free of his encyclopedia of trivia for the first time in his life? Hopefully not lost and unsure and uninformed. God, he hoped not.

He shook his head, quite literally to get his damn android brain to stop calculating the chances that his best friend was having an identity crisis or existential crisis or any number of other crises. Instead he thought about how his shoulders didn’t ache when he did that. His knees didn’t have that familiar creaking he’d grown so accustomed to, either. In fact, besides the pressure on the soles of his feet to keep him grounded and the near-imperceptible brush of fabric and sunlight against his skin, he didn’t feel much of anything. Thinking about his current body only brought up biocomponent specs and functionality reports (100% - Fully functional).

“Fucking-A…,” Hank muttered, noting once again he didn’t sound like himself. Being stuck in an android could be likened to sensory deprivation and informational oversaturation at the same time. If he dwelled on it too long, it’d drive him insane.

Something pinged him as he approached the door, and the door clicked open. “Welcome, RK800.”

Hank stepped into the foyer, marveling at its grandeur. It was a veritable mansion when compared with his single-story shack. It probably was a mansion. He wondered if Sumo would like living here, with the marble and the high ceilings. Maybe in the summer. The stone would keep him nice and cool. Air probably circulated well in here, too. Although the zebra rug didn’t look terribly comfortable

The double doors across from him slid open. Strolling in in an asymmetrical tee and jeans, Markus slipped a paint brush into the pocket of the smock tied at his waist. “Connor!” he called with a grin, wiping off some paint from his hands. “I thought you’d never take up my offer to stop on by!”

Hank returned the grin. He’d have to pass that comment on to Connor. “Hey, Markus.”

The android caught him in a brief hug before stepping back. “So what’s up? Care for a painting lesson?”

“Thanks, but not right now. Just have some…neat info we thought you would enjoy.”

“Oh, really?” He crossed his arms. “‘We’ as in you and the lieutenant? Isn’t sharing DPD intel kind of illegal?”

“Not exactly. I mean, yeah, but it’s not DPD.” Hank took a breath (UNNECESSARY; temperature nominal) and rocked on his feet. “We got an email from CyberLife this morning about some quack idea to define sentience. They wanted to see what would happen if they threw souls around, human and android alike.”

Markus scoffed. “Sounds a bit pompous. What makes them think they can even do that?”

Hank cocked his head and held open his arms. “They already have.”

Markus raised an eyebrow. He shifted his weight, looking the other over. “Connor…?” he asked slowly.

“Not at the moment. Hank Anderson.”

A half smile completed the look of surprise. “A human in an android body? And Connor is…?”

“Heading to the precinct. They called me in for something and he’s, well, me for the day.”

“Huh. You’re right, this is interesting. Temporary?”

“Yeah—here, Connor suggested I just…show you his memory—our memory—of today.”

“Sure, yeah.” Markus held out his hand. At Hank’s hesitation, he finally let out the chuckle he was holding back. “If you can figure out how to do it, that is?”

“Great, another snarky robot on my hands,” Hank grumbled, grabbing his hand. Markus caught another laugh and shifted his grip to his forearm instead. Their skin shied away from their touch, and the connection pinged his system. [RK200 #684 842 971] connected.

File copy requested: [Visuals; Audio] {-04:00:00.0}:{00:00.0}

Accept             Deny

The notification took up his vision in an instant. It didn’t say anything about a memory transfer like Connor warned, so he figured it would do. Just thinking about accepting the prompt completed the request, and the past four hours from his chassis’ perspective played back at breakneck speed. From Connor petting Sumo and reading a book exactly four hours ago to Hank’s latest quip, it all sped by, too fast to comprehend and yet with every detail intact and evident. He reeled, flinging his arm back.

He blinked rapidly. The only sign of the event was the text (Copy complete) fading from his vision. Markus, on the other hand, dropped his hand to his hip, unfazed. “Mimicking a nexus connection by adjusting and enhancing the brain’s natural electric field to induce a complete data transfer,” he mused. “That is genius! It doesn’t prove anything spiritual, that’ll require much more philosophical debate into the depth and scope of AI, but it certainly doesn’t disprove anything either.”

“How can you understand all that so fast?” Hank asked candidly.

Markus smiled. “Years of practice.” He untied his smock and beckoned him towards the door. “Why don’t we continue this in the den?”

The doors slid open into an absolutely spacious sitting room. As if the zebra pelt on the foyer floor wasn’t excessively extravagant enough, the first thing Hank saw was a giraffe in the corner, probably real, definitely stuffed. (Analysis: TAXIDERMY, est 16yr) He had to stop from rolling his eyes at its ostentatiousness. “Ritzy place ya got here,” he commented, hoping Connor’s voice defaulted to conversationally neutral.

“Yes. Carl doesn’t particularly like it either.” Damn. “However, the media seems to dote on and worry about an elderly millionaire more when they live a modest, humble life than when they look the part.” He gestured to one of the couches in the center of the room. “Please.”

“Y’know, based on news reports and the whole ‘led a revolution’ thing, you’re not exactly what I expected.” The couches were bright cherry red, fitting the theme of the room. He sank into the one closer to the door.

Markus sat across from him, crossing his legs. “Even celebrities need days off,” he pointed out. “I used to be a caretaker. That doesn’t define me anymore, and Carl has a new full-time caretaker anyway, but I still like to come check on him when I can. Get free painting tips while I’m here. But enough about me.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I’m dying to know what your day’s been like.”

“Playing shrink now? What about, just…general exposition?”

“Anything! This is unprecedented!” His eyes shone. Connor was 100% correct that Markus would be ecstatic. “All of our efforts these past months have been towards helping mankind understand androids as people, and now here you are, literally seeing things from our point of view! Walk a mile in the other’s shoes, as the proverb goes.”

“Okay….” Hank drummed his hands on his legs. His first instinct was to think back through the day, but the thought triggered another rapid memory replay. He stopped it and groaned. “It’s fuckin’ fast,” he said. “There’s a shit ton of information even without the router in my head. With it, it’s like I’m every computer at once.”

“That’s an interesting interpretation of it. Maybe a bit of an overstatement.”

He scoffed. “This android brain has involuntarily subjected me to more math in the last three hours than I have had to do in the last thirty years. Like, I don’t need a speedometer at all times, or news updates from Ghana, or access to all the fuckin’ bad memes of my youth. It’s excessive! Maybe not to you,” he added, holding out a hand, “but you’ve grown up with it…figuratively speaking.”

“That’s true.” Markus propped his chin in his palm. “I guess I’d be able to relate more to Connor’s side. I wonder how he likes being disconnected from the network.”

“Yeah, I wonder, too….” Hank pursed his lips. “The kid seemed really shaken up as soon as the whole ‘identity’ question came into play. Seemed like he’s been thinking about it for a while, so I figured…a break from the norm might do him some good. Hell, if I’m getting so overwhelmed by android stuff, maybe he’s finally got some underwhelming peace and quiet.”

“Perhaps. I can ask him later, though; you’re here right now. How about…colors? Does the world look any different? Any sharper, mayhap?”

“Bud, this place would look like a Crayola box to anyone.” Hank took a moment to look around, ignoring the scrolling list of crayon names in his periphery. Sure, it was bright and sharp, but he was fifty-three. If he stole literally anyone’s glasses, it’d improve his vision. “Yeah, I guess it’s all in shiny 4K. Look, Markus, I’m not really a conversationalist; words never were my strong point, so I’m not sure how well I can convey this, ah…ongoing out-of-body experience.”

Markus held up his hands in surrender. “Perfectly alright, Lieutenant. With only a few hours of android life, there’s no sense sitting around talking for all of it. Why not look to some action instead?”

“Action? What’s that mean?”

He stood up with a smile. “Have you ever seen The Matrix, Mr. Anderson?”

“Snuck into a theater to see it opening week.” He pushed himself up in suit. His balance had to correct itself when he was on his feet earlier than expected, being lighter, stronger, and without a whisper of joint pain. “And yes, my friends called me that for months after. Why?”

“Well, we could always spar with some newfound kung fu, but painting has always been more my style.”

“What the fuck are you—” He stopped, remembering the scene he was referencing. His computer brain also conveniently played it back for him, too. Thanks, CyberLife. “I can just download painting? Like that?” He snapped.

“The technical skills, yes; the creativity and style, though, you’d still have to practice yourself.” He picked up his smock and held it out. “How about that lesson?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. He had never pictured himself as a painter. Or an artist of any kind. Or an android. He shrugged. “Ah, what the hell. You’re on, Picasso.”

[next >]

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x03: Every Dream Has It’s Price Tag

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Y/N pays a visit to Brandon at his new job.

Pairing: Patience is a virtue, guys.

Warning: Swearing, feelings, minimal editing

Disclaimer: My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

A/N: Third episode is up! It’s a little short this time, but I enjoyed getting into romance novel territory with the descriptions this time. Next episode is a doozy, it’s one of my favorites. The First Time– Brandon’s old girlfriend from Minneapolis pays a visit.

The bell rings as Ms. Rye finishes her lecture,

“Okay, papers due on Monday. Remember, I want you to explore how…one decision, one event can change one’s whole life.”

You and Brenda both shuffle to get your things in order before standing up. She turns to Tiff as she and Kelly walk out of the room.

“Hey, Tiff, that was really funny what you said,”

“Who was trying to be funny?” She responds, mocking tone in her voice. You weren’t sure who Tiff was, exactly. Rumors say she was best friends with Kelly until they had a blowout over some guy and it didn’t end well. You didn’t have the best feeling about her, whoever she is.

-

“Male, female, root for your school, West Beverly’s team on against Beverly High, no fail! And don’t get lured by that sweet sweet nitro sale s-s-sale sale sale!” Once again, the D.J’s voice calls out, which marks the end of another glamorous day at West Beverly.

You spot Brandon, taking down names and numbers off the corkboard, hair blowing lightly in the breeze.

“You job hunting?” You ask, looking up at the different flyers and ads sprawled out amongst the board.

“Yeah, I’m just doing my bit for car insurance, you know,” He studies the board, writing things down as he goes.

“Anything looking good yet?”

“Well, I got uh, “Garden Graphics, Veggie Heaven Produce, This Town Restaurant.” I think we’re talking slam dunk here, Y/N/N,“ He jokes, tapping his pencil on his notepad.

You laugh, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Hey, if your mom is anything like mine, she’d kill for a discount at Veggie Heaven,” you jest,“I gotta run, I promised Brenda I’d go shopping with her and Kelly. Good luck!” You tap your hand on his arm before walking off.

“Thank, Y/N/N.”

-

“‘Inverted Nipple Trouble?’ Pass. ‘Are you always attracted to losers? Here’s how to break the cycle,’” Tiff laughs at the magazine in her hand while Kelly searches through the tracks.

“Ugh, here is the cycle,” Kelly groans as she walks past Steve, with David Silver at his side.

“Trust me, dude. They’ll drool over this stuff,” Steve convinces, spraying a little black bottle of cologne on the collar of the much younger boy.

“Aw, finally found someone your own maturity level to play with, Steve?” You tease, joining Brenda at the other set of racks. Steve rolls his eyes and turns away from you.

“Oh, hey Tiff. How is that waterbed?” He smirks, turning back to the gold cologne wall.

“Kelly and Tiffany got nuclear over Steve,” Kelly’s friend gossips. Wow. Steve was the guy that tore them apart? Who would fight over him? Doesn’t exactly sound worth it.

“Details, please!” Brenda leans into her, interest piqued.

“But It was intense fallout. They just started speaking this semester in English class.”

You all grab the things you want to try on, and all five of you scurry into the freshly painted dressing rooms. You find a blue floral mini dress with cropped sleeves. It was so cute. And so two hundred dollars. Bummer.

“Do you really think one event can change your whole life?” Brenda asks, muffled by the white doors of the dressing rooms.

“Sure, like in pretty woman? Sorry Julia Roberts, but I’d wear this on the plane with Richard Gere.” Kelly responds. Such a deep thinker, that girl.

“No, I mean like what Ms. Rye was talking about– one thing you do ruining your entire life… I dont know, forget it.” Brenda continues.

“I don’t know, maybe,” You ponder. Your mind runs through the events of that night at the Bel Age. What would have happened if you stayed? Just being there for 30 more minutes probably would’ve caused you to bang Dylan’s brains out. That couldn’t be a good thing. You barely knew him, for one. You had to handle one confusing crush at a time. I mean, not that your thing with Brandon was really a crush, more of an appreciation… for a friend… that happens to be attractive. You didn’t like him like him.

“Maybe it wasn’t ruined,” Tiff calls out, “Maybe he wanted it that way.”

You change back into your normal clothes, fighting with yourself over the dress. Your parents would kill you if you spent all of your money on one dress. It was a totally cute, show-stopping dress, though. Go for it.

You walk over to the check-out counter with Kelly. You may be smart, but at this very moment you’re feeling weak.

-

The next morning you trot into english class, setting your bag down with a thud.

“Do you remember, Jake kissed like a wall?” Kelly giggles, practically linked at the hip with Tiff.

“OMG yeah, but he was better than the Lizard remember?” She sticks out her tongue, making a gross slurping noise while she walks to her desk.

You sit at yours, next to Brenda.

Tiff turns to both of you, “Hey!”

“Hey,” You give her a half smile, taking your book out from your bag.

“Hey, cool dress!” Brenda smiles, a nervous tick in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s a kick for sure!” Tiff spins around, posing before sliding into her seat. You notice Kelly roll her eyes in annoyance before sitting down.

“How nice of you to model for us,” Ms. Rye jokes.

“Ms. Rye?” Brenda asks, sneaking over to the teacher, “Um, I was just wondering, who’s more guilty– someone like in Les Mis who didn’t want to steal but had to, or someone who wanted to but didn’t?”

“That’s an interesting moral twister, um, and we’ll get to that,” She’s cut off by the bell, “now.”

-

You’re lying on your bed, eyes closed, finally getting some wel deserved peace and quiet. Away from all the gossipy peers, drama, and Tiffany. She exhausted you. You feel yourself drifting off to sleep, but the deafening ring of the phone jolts you up. Who could be calling this late? Why?

You sit up and grab your phone, answering it with a groggy “Hello?”

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I can call someone-” You can’t help but smile sleepily at the sound of his voice.

“Brandon?”

“Yeah…listen, can you pick me up? I took the bus to work today and they don’t run this late at night,”

“So… You need a ride? I can do that. This Town?”

“Yeah,”

“See you in 10,” You hang up, frantically fix your hair, and throw on that $200 dress. You tiptoe down the stairs and out the door, not wanting to wake up your parents. Hopping in your brother’s 1990 Red Mustang Covertible, you slowly back out of the driveway and over to the bistro.

You pull into the parking lot, and see Brandon anxiously pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. You step out of the car, the cool nighttime air almost cold enough to leave you shivering.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Brandon Walsh, Beverly Hills’ own Working Girl,” you tease, a smile on your face. He smiles back, pushing the long blue sleeves of his sweater up his arms. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,”

Your tired eyes meet his own. You get lost in the blue of them, admiring the way the moonlight looks on his face… Until the clearing of a throat shakes you out of your trance. You both silently get in the car, and you pull out of the parking lot.

“How was it?”

“I’m beat, the job’s a total bitch,” He confides.

“Really? It at least pays well, though. Right?”

“You know, that’s what I thought walking in there…but I make next to nothing, and these guys I work with, these– Vietnamese, Portuguese, Israelites, they’re coming here with no money and they’re getting completely exploited. They’re working for pine nuts,” He explains, a frustrated tone in his voice. He’s always looking to make things better for other people, it’s something you picked up on quickly since moving to Beverly Hls. It’s one of the things you quickly grew to love about him… Something that shines brightly in times like these.

“Wow…is there anything you can do?”

He sighs, resting his head against the seat. “I don’t know,”

The streets are totally dead, totally quiet. Peaceful. Only the occasional car comes around every so often. The crickets are loud tonight, though. Filling up the empty space. You see something as you stop at a red light.

“Hey, Bran? What’s that?” You smirk.

You point over to it, a large automobile, stopped at a red light with “Beverly Hills Transit” painted on the side. He looks over, and a smile– a goofy, nervous one, spreads across his face.

He stays quiet for a moment, the smile sticking to his face, shaking his head slightly. “It’s a bus.” You both look at each other and then back at the bus, slowly. You start breaking into a fit of tired giggles. You slowly get Brandon, who’s majorly exhausted from work, going too. So now you’re both sitting at a red light, giggling ike idiots. At a bus. A bus that wasn’t supposed to be there, according to Brandon.

Instead of overthinking the situation, you just drive him home, both of you giddy from exhaustion. You pull into his driveway, putting the car in neutral. This has been a weird night. Fun, but weird.

“Thanks for driving me home,” he says, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. You give him a soft “mhmm,” in return. And, like earlier, you’re staring into his eyes again, and he’s staring into yours. You’re drifting closer and closer…

And then his mom comes out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nod in response, leaning back to your normal sitting position.

“Goodnight, Brandon,” You sigh. Happily, sleepily, defeated.

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

-

Sunday night came, and you were getting ready to go out to This Town with Dylan for dinner, to go pay Brandon a visit. You had told your parents you were going to study at the library with a friend, which…okay, this time it was a total lie, but you weren’t doing anything illegal. So it’s okay. You apply your red lipstick before heading out the door. You see Dylan in his black Porsche Speedster ,parked down the street. Just far enough to avoid creating suspicion from your parents. Perfect.

-

“So, was this place any good when you went?” You ask, perusing the menu.

“It was alright. Small portions, fancy plates. Good cumin,”

“Brandon’s been running the entire time we’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve even seen him take a breath,” You chuckle, watching him make his rounds. He was nothing if not a hard worker.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Dylan inquires, watching you watch Brandon.

“Come on, we’ve been over this. Brandon’s one of my best friends,” you insist, setting down your menu. You pause. “Okay. maybe I…I do like him. But I wouldn’t ever act on it. He’s kind of attractive, so what? He’s still my friend.” Brandon makes his way closer to your table.

“Yo, boy!” Dylan gets Brandon’s attention, who’s getting swamped with dishes from other employees.

“Hey!” He calls back, turning around. You admire him in his all-white uniform. It shouldn’t look so good on him, yet you’re breathless.

“'This Town,’” Dylan begins, reading the restaurant’s menu, “'This Town is an eating experience for the morning moments, a medley of sages, cumin bouquets, fragrant vegetable jewels,’” he drops the menu onto the table, then proceeds to drop his head, fake snoring. You and Brandon laugh at his antics, but Brandon’s interrupted by his boss not long after.

“Many people would love your job,” She states, black curls hair-sprayed into place as she moves along.

“Yeah, love that minimum wage,” He remarks, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. An asian man steps beside him, helping him with his work.

“You get minimum wage? Congratulations,”

“Yeah, right, same to you,” Brandon responds, raising his eyebrows.

“None of us do,” The man replies. Brandon cocks his head at that, turning to the man.

“That’s illegal!”

“So? Who’s going to do anything?” His coworker walks back into the kitchen. You see the look on Brandon’s face and you can tell…shit’s about to hit the fan. He stomps over to his boss at the counter.

“Listen–”

“I loathe apologies, make it up to me, Brendon, the cumins need filling,” his boss nags, putting on makeup in a compact mirror.

“It’s Brandon! Brandon Walsh! I’m an investigative reporter for the West Beverly newspaper–”

You watch Brandon rant and rave from your table, not able to quite make out what he’s saying because of the loud music. He starts unbuttoning his white coat while he vents.

“Uh oh…uh oh…Dylan, why is he stripping?” You tap him on the arm frantically to get his attention.

“What, I thought you’d like that,” Dylan jokes, playful grin on his lips.

“Oh, shut up!” You laugh, taking the little ball of paper from your straw and throwing it at his face. “I hate you.” You manage to catch the last bit of the conversation.

“…How you scam your help for under minimum wage! So you can take your cumin, and you can shove it,” Brandon slams his white coat down on the counter, walking back to you guys. Wow. You don’t know whether to be amused, proud, or incredibly turned on. All three?

“Take a load off, Minnesota. ‘Dinner Delectable’ is on me,” Dylan encourages, pulling out a seat for Brandon. You can almost see the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Whew, free at last, free at last. Thank god almighty–” he stops the waitress, “Excuse me, can I get a round cup and a round saucer? And I’d like it before the second coming please,” Dylan shakes his head and silently laughs, while your jaw is slightly slack, loving whatever mood Brandon’s in right now. “Come on, let’s get out of here. ”

“Done deal, I know just the place,” all three of you catwalk out.

-

The Peach Pit

Brandon takes a spoonful of apple pie, “The job wasn’t just to support my car insurance habit,” he tells you. “My dad’s always worked.”

The owner of the diner leans in, both hands on the counter, “He sounds as bonkers as me.” You take a bite of your own pie as he continues, “I was 10 when I worked my first big character part in an old bogie film. There was a real pro with a sweet tooth,”

“Now I know why you dragged me all the way out here,” Brandon turns to Dylan, who’s on the other side of you.

“Best pie in L.A., food for real people,”

“Here’s to real cups and real saucers,” you quip, and all three of you raise your glasses. You look around the diner, pictures upon pictures on the walls, pink wallpaper, and rock and roll music.

“Take it or leave it,” The owner, Nat smiles.

“What I like, is you get a real cross-section of people, you know?” Dylan comments, bringing his tea to his lips.

“This really is a nice place you’ve got here,” You smile fondly.

“Listen, uh, Dylan here has been bugging me about hiring someone to help me out, I figure who would be nuts enough to want this bit? Take you, you look nuts enough,” He faces Brandon, raising his eyebrows.

“Take me!” Brandon exclaims. Oh, those were words you dreamt of hearing come out of this mouth. “I’m nuts enough!” Dammit. He’s so cute.

“I’ll vouch for that,” you giggle.

“Me too, I’ll even waive my commission,” Dylan says.

“So, when do I start?”

“How about right now?” All three of you exchange cheeky smiles.

The night ends after a few slices of pie, some milkshakes, and a curfew that’s about to break.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Y/N/N,” Dylan thanks as you slide into the passengers seat. You smile at him as he pulls out of the diner’s parking lot, and turns down the street, his engine humming and the crickets chirping. You look at him for a moment, lost in your thoughts. You admire him, the night sky, and the fresh, cool, nighttime air. You speak up.

“I don’t want to go home yet,”

Tags: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines @lilo-1988 @bevelyhills90210

[gta5-watchdogswriter]

GTA V Scenario part 1

Character(s): Elizabeth Lombardi & Michael De Santa

Requested by: N/A

Requests: Open

Scenario: When Liz decides to tag along with Michael to pick up his son, things don’t turn out to what they expect. 

Additional notes: I know I haven’t been posting a lot lately. I have been trying to think of different scenarios to write up. Stay tune for part 2!

————————–

“Sooooo,” Liz said. She leaned back into her seat, eyeing the outside, watching it fly past. She shifted her gaze onto the driver. “Your son has signed up for classes and he needs you to pick him up, correct? What is he doing? If I may ask. Before you ask, I’m curious. If I’m coming along, I might question it.”

“First of all, you tagged yourself. I didn’t ask you to come along,” Michael replied. He flickered a quick glance over to her. In response, she smiled. “Second of all, that’s correct. I don’t fucking know why you are so interested in knowing about what’s going on in his life. You never really get yourself into his life. So, why start now?”

Turning away, she remained silent for a while. True, she was never interested in Jimmy’s life. Not when she first met Michael and his family. Not now. Or maybe she did. Spending a lot of time with Michael, his family, Franklin, and Trevor, she decided to do more. By more, she wanted to bond with them. She could almost hear Gina huffed and say that Liz shouldn’t bond with any of them. Maaaybe Franklin. Anyone else? Not exactly. 

They were crazy or so  Gina claimed. Unfortunately, the difference between the two best friends, Liz is willing to give a chance for everyone. To see what they truly were capable of. Again, she spent a lot of time with the guys. Another reason to do so. 

“Maaaaybe I change my thoughts of you and your family,” Liz said, softly.

“What was that?” Michael asked. 

“You heard what I said. Don’t make me change my mind again.” The smile had fallen away, being replaced with a soft frown. She threw him a glare, but he chose to ignore it. “Annnnywaaays, that didn’t answer my question. What are the classes he’s taking?”

“To be a comedian. I never thought he would be interested in that kind of thing. All he does is-”

“Don’t put your son down like that. Sure, the way he speaks is awful and needs to be fixed. Sure, he sits around almost all day, playing video games. But don’t you do the same thing?” An eye-roll from Liz. She shifted in her seat. She didn’t dare glance in his direction. “Give him a chance. A better chance. Let him explore all the opportunities in life. He’s still young. He’s trying to find a place in his life where he’s satisfied. You and I both know that we didn’t exactly get that kind of chance when we were younger.”

True, Liz shouldn’t have to try to understand what Michael been through. She probably wouldn’t understand what he been through or going through now. Regardless, she still understands one thing. Both didn’t get the chance like Jimmy had. A chance wasted doing other stuff, which landed them where they are now.  “Can we not fucking talk about it right now?” Michael asked. “I thought this was supposed to be a cheerful moment.” “Yeah, yeah,” Liz answered. She used one hand to make a dismissing gesture. He’s right. Maybe they shouldn’t be talking about it right now. Another time. “How cheerful can it be if you’re grumpy all the time, serpente?” “I’m not grumpy!”  “Whatever you say.”  He made a sound, though Liz is certain he didn’t approve what she said. Then again, she always made that kind of comment. By now, he’s used to it. Or she hopes he is.  For the entire ride to wherever they were going, they remained quiet. The music softly playing throughout the car. No one made a move either. Perhaps to shift around in their seat to make themselves comfortable. A few times, Liz adjusted herself as she stared out the window.  Liz didn’t realize they arrived until she was snapped back into reality by Michael’s voice.  “Elizabeth? You’re okay?” He asked. “O-oh, yeah I am. Just got lost in my thoughts,” Liz replied. She moved around, shaking the stiffness from her limbs. She flashed him a smile. “We’re here already? Time flew by fast!” “Yes. Let’s get going.” With the car turned off and the two slipping out the car, they both didn’t waste another minute in going up to the building. Liz letting Michael lead the way. It isn’t a big building. Pretty small to hold classes in, but she didn’t judge. Maybe they were on a tight budget or they couldn’t find a bigger space. Maybe both. It didn’t seem to pop out either. She never thought comedian classes were being taken here.  The outside didn’t compare what is inside. It’s actually nice. Nothing fancy, but still nice to look at. She could see two hallways near the front desk. If she looked down both ways, the hallways didn’t go too far.  She could see several rooms. People were moving in and out of rooms. Some looked to be students. Others as teachers. Some she couldn’t tell if they were a teacher or a student. The teachers didn’t exactly have an exact uniform, nor did students.  The hallways didn’t have the red carpet as the main area. Where the hallway started is checker tiles. Paintings hung around the place. Some she could tell were from old times. Each had a title of the paintings underneath.  While Michael went ahead and asked for his son, Liz moved around the place, eyeing everything out of boredom.  She did linger a little around the paintings. Other than that, she remained in the same room. She stopped at one point after walking around for a little while. Her gazed flickered over to him when he walked over to her, clearly annoyed.  “What’s wrong?” Liz asked.  “For fuck’s sake, they haven’t seen Jimmy almost all day,” Michael growled. “Said that he never showed up for his other classes. They thought he left early, but apparently not. I doubt he wants to skip these classes. He promises he wouldn’t fucking do it. He hasn’t skipped his classes either, oddly enough.”

“Strange,” Liz muttered, loudly. She raised up one hand and rubbed her chin. This is odd. If Michael says is true and Jimmy hasn’t backed down from his promises, why didn’t he show up for his other classes? Did something happen? Plus, he didn’t text or call his dad from the sounds of it. “Did he text Tracey or Amanda?”

“I doubt so. They don’t know what he’s doing exactly,” Michael answered. 

“Wouldn’t they know since they talk to him a lot?” Liz asked. “Annnnywaaays, we need to figure out this out.”

“Of course, we fucking do!”

“Let’s calm down first. We may not be able to get as many details if we’re getting wild up like this. Is it possible to ask them if we can check their security cameras?” Liz is rambling at this point. She eyed the cameras. “It’s possible that they caught some kind of evidence.”