#which would still be kinda funny but INCREDIBLY UNHELPFUL

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Sleepy and bored how's it going?

[and-they-were-crewmates]

Room For Three | Deleted Scenes

Hi friends! Have you read my fic Room For Three? If not, and you’re looking for Holden/Amos/Naomi fic, go check that out first, because it’s better than this.

The following are a few deleted scenes from Chapter 20. These scenes did not actually occur in the universe of the fic. They were deleted in part because they weren’t relevant to anything, so they added too much superfluous bulk to an already superfluous and bulky fic, and in part because I wasn’t very confident with my characterization of Camina’s family or the way I communicated their dialect. I do love the idea of giving Drummer some closure with Naomi, though I don’t think that Room For Three is the place to explore that concept. That being said, this was a fun little scene, so I’d like to share!

Very mildly NSFW text below. This is from a rated E fic, but is not explicitly sexual. CW recreational drug use (marijuana)

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” said Naomi into her hand terminal. The small window in the corner reflected her own image, alone in the room while Jim either finished up his therapy or got started on his way to lunch with Fred, and Amos journeyed to pick up food for the two of them. The larger window, the focus of her attention, showed Drummer’s full face and half of another woman’s, whose shoulder acted as a pillow for Camina’s tilted head. Her friend looked more at peace than Naomi had ever seen her. 

“Nah, we insist. Whole crew will be happy to meet The Naomi Nagata. Plus, your Earther boys obviously need a lesson in family. Double date.” 

“Is it still called a double date if there’s nine people at the table?” 

“Nonuple date, then. Come. Josep good cook, Bertold good advice, Oksana good to look at,” she said. The body next to her stuck out an elbow in playful defense, and a loving giggle filled the speaker. “Good in bed, too,” Camina added to appease her, and they both laughed together. 

“Alright, alright. I guess I’d rather get polyam lessons from you lot than from Jim’s eight parents.” 

“Soyá. One Holden is more than enough for me.” Naomi didn’t say it, but she agreed. The Holden family was a lot to handle. She knew there might be a discussion with them in her future, in which she and Amos would undoubtedly have to stand under their mild-mannered scrutiny and well-meant condescension, but she hoped to put it off as long as possible. 

“Be nice to him tonight,” Naomi implored,  Camina rolled her eyes. 

“To ta ge im, bosmang. I will try. No promises ‘bout Serge though. Discriminate, im does.”

“Ah, pashang fong, ‘Mina,” a man’s voice bellowed, the pejorative softened by his loving tone. His head appeared on Naomi’s device, upside down at the top of the frame. “Mi behave, promise.” They all three laughed together, a contagious sound that put a smile on Naomi’s face. 

Camina’s family was as affectionate as it was functional, and any jealousy was squandered as soon as it sprouted through open networks of communication. They didn’t all sleep in the same bed, or all have sex at the same time, or spend every waking hour together, the six of them, but they loved each other equally just the same. They didn’t all keep score of their ‘wins’ and ‘losses’— surely Michio didn’t feel left out if Oksana got milkshakes with Josep one day, and Drummer didn’t pout if Serge chose to shower with Bertold instead of her. They found a balance together, where everyone was included, even in the moments when they weren’t. They’d be good role models. 

“Alright, we’ll be there,” Naomi said, excitement written on her face. When the phone call was over, she turned her attention to the door. Amos was taking longer than anticipated. She supposed she’d have to find some way to occupy herself until he returned. 

***

Josep’s cooking was so spicy that it felt like a targeted attack. Holden was the only one who seemed to notice— which only furthered his suspicions that it was a deliberate poisoning— though he knew he was just wimpier than anyone else in the room. Otherwise, Holden, Naomi, and Amos were welcomed warmly into Drummer’s home like members of the family. 

They each had their own unique flavor of advice, ranging from categorically unhelpful to actually something to think about, spoken in different degrees of broken English or part-English part-Belter. Holden appreciated the great effort they went to to be understood by him. They probably had very little use for pure English in their day-to-day lives, and the grammar of Lang Belta was very different, more efficient. It made some of their translations a little hard for Holden to process, but if they could make the effort, so could he. 

“Da pashang gut?” Serge asked. In the time it took Holden to decide if he was comfortable answering whether they had good sex, Amos and Naomi had already given their yesses. “Gut. The rest figure itself out.” 

“That’s terrible advice,” interjected Michio. 

“Work for me an’ Josep this morning,” he shrugged. “Take too long in shower. Mi angry. Join him in shower, mi na so angry.” Michio rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not about sex,” she said. “You can have good sex and no love for each other.”

“Like in Camina dream about Holden,” Serge contributed. Holden didn’t know what to do with that information. Naomi seemed to like it. 

“I’ve had that dream,” Amos added. Holden elbowed him. 

“Sure, like that,” dismissed Michio. “It’s not about sex; it’s about trust. You trust your family will never hurt you on purpose?” she asked. The three of them nodded. “You forgive your family when they make a mistake?” she asked. They nodded. “Then you can forgive your family for anything.” That was pretty solid advice, but nothing Holden didn’t already know. They were good at forgiving each other. Had practice. 

“How do you keep everything…” Holden searched for the word, “...equal?”

“Equal? Who cares equal?” replied Bertold. “Not equal. Camina in charge. Like Naomi for you.”

“Naomi’s not—” Holden said, then backed down. It was true enough. 

“Ya. No need for equal.” 

“Is there ever jealousy? Like, if you spend more time with one person than another.” A couple of them, including Amos, looked at him like that was the stupidest question ever asked.

“That’s baby shit, kopeng,” Bertold said. “Need comfort, ask Oksana. Need tough love, ask Camina. Need fix problem, ask Michio. Need laugh, ask Josep. Need blow job, ask Serge.” 

“Hey,” Serge defended. “I’m funny, too.” 

“Ya, baby,” Bertold consoled. “I just simplify for explain. Different for others, or depend on the day. Point is, na equal. Need comfort four time, tough love one, then go Oksana four time, Camina one. ‘Mina no cry ‘bout it. Because adult. Knows mi love im the same.” Drummer smiled at him. Holden had never seen Drummer smile as bright or as often as he had that night. “End of day, eat dinner as family, go bed happy.” 

“Huh,” said Holden. “That… makes a lot of sense, thank you.”

“Try not to think so hard, Jimmy,” said Drummer. “Have some cake. Not so spicy.”

“Gee, thanks.”

***

The third or fourth time it was passed to her, Naomi took another long, luxurious puff off of Drummer’s vaporizer. She tried to pass it behind her to Jim (whose lap she didn’t think she’d been sitting in when Camina first pulled out the device) but he declined as always. Naomi presumed the captain was afraid of what slutty business he might get up to under the influence of high-grade synthetic cannabis in a room full of incredibly hot people. She couldn’t blame him, but it wouldn’t stop her from having a good time. Amos also clearly had no such reservations. 

“So,” he said between two smaller puffs (Earthers with their puff, puff, pass bullshit), “what’s the sex like?” 

“Amos, you can’t just ask people that,” Jim scolded. In rebuttal, Amos took his second puff and blew it in Jim’s face. Soberly, Naomi might’ve been on Jim’s side of that argument, but she was high and curious. Amos looked at Serge, who seemed the most likely to answer the question rather than flip him off. 

“All six of you screw together, or is it a Noah’s Ark kinda deal?” Amos asked. Serge shrugged. 

“Sometimes all six, sometimes three, sometimes two,” he said. 

“Maybe sometimes nine,” added Josep lewdly, eyeing the three guests. Amos smiled salaciously, while scattered laughter filled the room. Camina cleared her throat and shook her head. 

“What did I say?” she chided. 

“Dinner, not orgy,” Josep said. 

“Don’t see why it can’t be both,” said Amos. Jim elbowed him. 

As her Earther lovers mingled with her Belter friends, new and old, Naomi felt a sense of wholeness. Her worlds were colliding— this time in a harmonious way, not an explosive one. She didn’t know if it was the THC in her lungs or the love in her life, but she was on top of the world. 

Michio was teaching Amos and Jim an old Belter card game when Naomi was overcome with a powerful urge to speak privately with Camina. Several faces quirked suggestively as she pulled her friend from the mass of cuddling bodies on the living room floor. Apparently Amos wasn’t the only one with preconceived notions about their friendship. She ignored them and guided Camina into the next room, which only happened to be the bedroom. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy, Camina,” she said once they were in another room. Camina hummed and nodded, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a small smile. The weed seemed to unburden her considerably, though a deeper happiness radiated from her even before they’d smoked. Her hair was down, and it felt to Naomi like a metaphor. 

“Don’t think I ever have been,” she said. Naomi took her hand and squeezed it, beaming with pride. Camina’s expression soured almost imperceptibly; her smile was still present, though it spoke of an old, tired sadness, or perhaps just a more reluctant version of joy. “Spent a long time wanting something I could not have.” She looked Naomi up and down, and the message was heard loud and clear. That bitter-sweet smile. The harbinger of closure. 

“Ended up with something better, no?” 

“Think so,” Camina answered. Her eyes widened as she asked, and there was a youthfulness in her face that Naomi hadn’t seen before, like a child seeking approval. Naomi didn’t think Camina needed her approval, but she gave it readily. 

“I know so. Oksana looks at you like you painted the stars in the sky. You deserve that.” 

“Same way Jimmy looks at you.”  

“Same way Amos looks at my boobs,” Naomi countered. They both laughed. “You deserve to be happy, Camina Drummer. Are you?” 

“Ya, Naomi Nagata. Have everything I ever wanted, and more. Could not have imagined having something this good until it happened.”  

“I know what you mean,” Naomi said wistfully, thinking of Amos and Jim. 

“You happy, too?” Camina asked. 

“Ya,” answered Naomi, easily and honestly. Have everything I ever wanted, and more. “Mi xush.” Naomi pressed her forehead to Camina’s, and they shared their happiness together for a moment. 

“Gut.” 

“So... what’s this dream you had about Jim?” 

“Oh hush.” 

***

“You think they’re fooling around?” Amos asked the group of people whose names he didn’t know. Holden elbowed him for the third time that night. “Bug, at some point, you’re gonna have to realize jabbing me in the ribs ain’t gonna stop me from sayin’ shit.” 

“What will?” Holden asked. Amos didn’t answer, just pointed his eyes down at Holden’s crotch, and figured he got the message when he received yet another nudge to his side. He laughed,  took his turn in the card game, and hit the vape when it came around again. 

“Could I ask you something, big man?” asked the guy with the triangle tattoos beside his eyes. Amos shrugged his permission. The guy took a second to say anything else, like he was trying to word his question. He whispered something to the man at his side. 

“Ah,” the second man said, “wants to know if you have Earther cock.” Amos didn’t know what that meant. “You know, like…” he gave an inscrutable gesture, like jerking off, but not quite. “No skin.” 

“Josep,” came a scolding female voice. Amos didn’t mind. 

“Oh. Yeah, I’m circumcised.” The two men, one of whom must’ve been Josep, not that Amos would retain that information, seemed fascinated by that. He was about to ask if they wanted to see it when Naomi and her girlfriend came back. Another time, then. 

[fruitylibrarian]

quest of the spear live rewatch!

i already spewed my pre call to adventure flynn thoughts all over a text post but I would like to repeat: pre-canon flynn my beloved <3

yes he is a bit of a bastard but he just loves his books and he’s so genuinely just like. passionate and like…. Big? does that make sense? like i mean inside. not literally. bright

flynn’s mom is so fucking funny

and she’s Trying Her Best

you know one thing I don’t understand, I assume that flynn could afford to keep going to college because of like grants and scholarships since he’s all smart and like, even if his mom is well off, no one below the morally bankrupt millionaire line can pay for 22 degrees and not die of no-money-itis otherwise known as Starving

but like. why not become a professor or some other academia position?

you’d be incredibly overqualified and you’re a white dude, so while academia isn’t exactly bursting with new spaces to fill I’m sure you could find something???? and like. a professor in particular, while baby flynn might not be great at the connection part, seems like a natural progression to at least try for considering it keeps you in that comfort zone and familiar space just in a different albeit familiar role, and allows you to go on long lectures people can’t interrupt. and like, professors literally like, part of their job is research and to continue learning, so like. it seems like the natural choice for him to go for?

don’t get me wrong, baby flynn in particular might not be extremely well suited considering his lack of people skills, but plenty of professors are brilliant slightly odd smarties who give long, super engaging theatrical lectures (sounds like him!) but suck at one on one meetings and talking to people or may be accidentally insulting, but like, their class is genuinely interesting and they grade decently so like, I think he could get past that hurdle is what I’m saying

obviously he’d have to work at it and get the skills necessary but you know what that means? MORE SCHOOL, BABY! just in a different direction! like just? it seems like the obvious choice for his situation

ah yes!!! magic letter!!! it’s kind of funny they do this, it’s a great hook and way to make applicants go Uh Excuse Me and want to know more but also like, there’s no proof magic happened either?

although you’d think some people would get obsessive like let me tell you if i encountered real ass magic like that i wouldn’t stop until i had an answer

ah the Incredibly Long Interview Line. it’s kinda how funny how like. Not Special he is but at the same time he is?

“never been treated so badly in my entire life!” what did you say to him charlene

i’m sure he deserved it i just want to know

wait oh no i just realized

all these people are dead

every single one of them got murdered in the first episode of the series

jesus that’s dark

not gonna be able to stop thinking about that one huh

also love how it’s pretty evenly men and women

although it’s still mostly white

fuck that lady just left crying I know they’re doing this to turn up the drama but DAMN, charlene

god he almost gave up. remember the timeline episode where he never became the librarian? weird.

Gkjlfkgjhfglh Where Do You Think You’re Going? (weak gesture like “me?”) Yes You. Get In Here amazing how can she even see him she’s around the CORNER. camera? magical surveillance? why? just to freak people out? amazing.

i do so love charlene, it’s a shame she wasn’t in the show more

also she literally never explains shit. What Makes You Think You Can Be The Librarian he doesn’t even know what that means, charlene

He Doesn’t Even Have A Library Science Degree

oh wow he does actually have librarian qualifications lmao

why did i not remember that

DLKFGJDFG I did remember him sherlocking her tho

wait her MARRIAGE? to WHO?

i thought her and judson were a thing despite jenkins being into her or something?

huh

also why does this qualify him to be The Librarian™ like oh he can sherlock? ok?

maybe it’s just bc he had the balls to do it

well, the sherlock thing is also not completely unhelpful it just doesn’t seem central to his skills, or at least, not the way he uses it (do we see him use it like this again? he usually applies more obscure knowledge then ye classic deduction sherlockian skills if I remember correctly which I may not because my brain is smooth)

judson is such a fucking drama queen

LKDJFGLKDJFGLDKFJG I FUCKING FORGOT HE LITERALLY JUST FUCKING REPEATED HIS MOM’S LITTLE PHRASE AMAZING

also why did he seem to think her sending everyone home meant he didn’t get it why would she stop all interviews because you fucked up

he just fucking walked out of a wall judson you are so dramatic

also warehouse 13 vibes huh. welcome to a world of endless wonder

I could do a whole fucking thesis on warehouse 13 and the librarians or—well that’s a whole other tangent

anYWYA

this interview was remarkably easy tho, it’s not like he wasn’t impressive but it wasn’t mindblowing either????? this coming from a big fan of flynn

the big shiny wonderous eyes as the library lights up……flynn my beloved

also his floofy hair ldkfgjdlkfgj

he’s like this is too good am I being prank’d

why the mona lisa?????iIs the mona lisa magic??? It only became famous because it got stolen why would it be magic??? Is this one of those we make it magic by believing it or some shit things???

Flynn Do Not Open The Random Box In The Library Of Incredibly Dangerous Artifacts

oh hello excalibur !!

oh rip flynn immediately being like “oh im not worthy, trust me” with 100 percent certainty im hurt oof

KSJFLGKDJGLKDJG THE APPLE “the apple from the garden of eden…….” *judson takes a bite* “actually I just left this here”

excalibur hello properly!!!!

judson is such a fucking DRAMA QUEEN he’s so casual!! and cal you too you slippery bitch!  

ah the jetpack.

DLFKGJDLKFGJ “it usually takes a new librarian four hours to find the jetpack. you did it in three! congratulations” love the implication that every librarian (at least since it was added to the library) has done this no matter how serious like the bad guy of this movie… *checks notes* edware wilde? jetpack. darrington dare, probably? jetpack. i like to think jenkins did it too (not technically a librarian, but you know)

flynn thinking of himself as embarrassing… ☹

HIS MOM IS SO PROUD OF HIM

part sweet, part funny, part rip

I don’t know what she was expecting when he said librarian tho like. originally he literally looked at shit for FRY COOk degrees don’t always mean shit you know

and librarian is up there with professor in Perfect Jobs For Flynn like what did you expect??? Like even if he’d become an archaeologist (a “cool” job) it’s not like that pays super well either as far as I know??

he was never going to be Traditionally Successful

he’s still the same person he still has the same strengths and passions of course he would go into academia and do something like librarian like????? her reaction saddens me.

just be happy for him!! look at him!!!

ok first of all even normal non magic librarians don’t just put books on shelves and that’s a condescending reduction of the job, and second of all, he is so happy!! he has a job, he’s taking responsibility, he’s meeting people, isn’t that enough??? isn’t that literally what you wanted??? even if it WERE what you think it is why couldn’t it just be a good first step??? like??? fuck??? you did been know that he was doing all those fancy degrees because he loved them not because they’d get him some super fancy job??? I mean egyptology is not the most profitable field you know this isn’t med school or whatever

god.

flynn’s mom, visibly not proud and very upset: of course im proud of you!

ok im being a little unfair, she’s trying and clearly she’s been supportive of him, if not straight up enabling of him, but like this is clearly being presented as like. normal person who is normal forced to take care of freakish strange son who is so nerdy and strange and a loser and she is so tired of his shenanigans and all that WORK she put in and he’s NOT FANCY AND CHANGING TO CONFORM TO HER IDEALS OF A GOOD SUCCESSFUL SON/MAN?

and that’s just all very. sigh.

the snake brotherhood are such obnoxiously cheesy villainous villains they’re even called the snake brotherhood

also I think we’re supposed to recognize him as the previous librarian from the painting but if I didn’t already know that I for sure would not know that

smartass flynn is a smartass

I never got people bringing someone coffee to impress them unless they knew their order like there’s no way you know who she likes her coffee so you could so easily get it wrong—like even if you don’t know exactly how much sugar she wants, you could also just get it entirely wrong like assume she likes black coffee but she likes it super sweet, or vice versa, or whatever. it can go wrong so easily!

or she could go “I Hate A Kiss Ass”

she did take it anyway tho so.

ah i did forget (or just not actively think about) how much like… christian mythology there is in this show :/ I mean we did been knew (excalibur and arthurian legend are pretty important to the mythology)

not that christian mythology is inherently bad it just gets a) annoying, b) boring, and c) y’know, very western centric and all

but then trying to reconcile di—you know what that’s a tangent for another time

then again I do assume no one is going to read this

the library really does just throw new librarians into death and go “hope this is fine!” huh

did they just imply god is canon in the “the librarian” universe

you were so cryptic with the no one thing!! just say NOONE

he’s scribbling in his notebook and mumbling out loud what a mood and I love him. what a nerd

ldfkgjdlkjg god sexy jazz music and a breeze this is so dumb

I do hate the forced love interests in all these movies it’s always like Some Hot Girl Is There And They Get It On!

like he really had chemistry with eve and banter but here it kinda feels like that wish fulfilment and then the nerd gets the hot chick the end and im saying that as the nerd

it doesn’t help that each movie has a different one who immediately is dropped as if she never existed afterwards

maybe it’s not as bad as I remember but. sigh

my instant impression of her is to not like her sorry nicole :/

she’s just so rude? she’s like. hot (derogatory)

i get there’s gender politics here with like. she’s used to being treated like a piece of meat and generally like, why not reap the benefits when you are going to get the creeps too, but like, also she’s just so unnecessarily rude—I mean rejecting his clumsy flirting is one thing but you know—ok I won’t even get into that the point is I just don’t really like her that much even tho I don’t think she’s necessarily a bad person or anything you know

but to be fair I think she got better and I remember her being compelling in her return to the show

and like. I do like how the trend in this franchise is “smart little nerd librarian and badass lady guardian kicks ass” but I do wish that it turned around occasionally. we do get cassandra but like. more lady librarians

wow an air marshal? aren’t they rarely even on flights?

sorry im being nitpicky there for sure lmao. please delete the cinamasins ding my words probably summoned from your brain

I get why shoving him out was necessary but also Wow

Gjklhkjfgh imagine sitting next to some mumbling nerd the whole flight and then you see him fly past the windows

LFKGJDLKJDFG he brilliantly lowers our expectations then jumps without a chute! remarkable!

hilarious or commentary on men getting credit for womens’ competency? why not both

i really thought that she was going to be a lying liar the first time I watched this

ah naïve boy. “uh that’s against the law”

flynn’s greatest strength isn’t just his knowledge but his like. breadth of different topics, just like, passion for learning of any time, and like. the ability to not just know a lot of different things but cross-reference and apply them to each other and use them in tandem to understand a greater whole

and we love that for him!

ah flynn therapizing himself lmao

why would she take him going “this bridge is rotting and physically cant support our weight” as a challenge

or him being cowardly like THE STRUCTURAL SUPPORTS ARE ROTTING

YEAH WHAT DID YOU EXPECT OF COURSE HE FUCKING FELL

ok i lied i like nicole i just don’t love their dynamic

i get what they’re going for i just. not my thing

like with eve there was still a clear mutual respect? i guess? idk

maybe it’s just because i’m more sensitive to mean banter? i don’t like mean banter, even when it’s like, def 100 percent well meaning and not mean spirited and no one is actually offended or hurt

although despite not liking their Thing I do a) think it’s very cute how he looks at her, b) their vibe as they start to get to know each other is Better, c) the end of the movie scene where she rides in for maximum drama? now that was good shit.

oh he’s sherlocking her in a shy attempt to impress her but it’s only going to piss her off, right?

oh she’s just sherlocking him back

KSGFJLDKFGJ LMAO “nerd” and that’s it. fair

Cutting Off His Head damn that’s hardcore

hmmmm cringe,

and more cringe

and cringe.

her waking up to him gone right after telling that story about waking up to her librarian gone and then killed—oof

love the serpent brotherhood lady being like wow!! he’s SO COMPETENT!! (cuts to him screaming)

do these ancient traps just have infinite arrows?

also I do love the whole waltzing across trope what can I say im a sucker

DFLKGLDKFGJLDKJG fucking CHUCKS SOMETHING AT IT and immediately where he would be standing is crushed by a huge rock amazing

he literally just chucked a rock at it and it fell over

ah the classic “let the hero get it for us” move

oh there he is! rip

why does he look like macpherson

not really but kind of

also contrast between the lady always being like “omg the librarian is so smart” and him assuming nicole is the one who did the smart thing

“your tears were perfect” how much more of an asshole can you get

They really could have played him as more sympathetic—“oh, we’re always around these powerful artifacts but we never use them for good! I had to do it, I was sick of sitting back and doing nothing” or like “all those years of danger and guarding powerful things and what good did it ever do me? what do I get for my service?” or anything but nah hes just like “mm power good babes. anyway I love sex and being mean”

to be fair flynn he was the librarian too—a real librarian? I mean yeah edward was corrupted and ultimately failed his duties but he had to have been qualified and actually got the job for a reason

flynn I know you think you sound badass but you really don’t

god not shangri-la again. everything the show did with that was. Bad. yikes

why is—god, I should really learn her name [checks notes] lana fangirling so much?

also following the lamia tradition of “serpent brotherhood second in command who is more interesting than the main evil white guy and also a pretty woc” huh

never got like “this is literally impossible” “well do it or I [generic bad guy threat]” like usually that means nothing lmao

LDFKGJLDKFJLDKFGJ ok first of all god is me? bitch?

second of all. me in english? on this fucking ancient very much not english thing? I mean I guess a) it might not be literal, even though he did say “m, e” by letters, b) it is a christian myth so maybe planted later??? but like?????

dude. giving the super powerful artifact to your prisoner? bad idea. if you’re worried about booby traps have a minion do it.

oh yes your gun is so scary in the face of a temple collapsing

why do heroes always think the whatever is safer with them than the temple that’s guarded it for a thousand years

I get it’s been discovered but like. fuck. still

You Are Going To Crash This Helicopter

SLKGJ HORRIBLE HIGH VELOCITY PIE OF DEATH

flynn and judson…..wholesome

oh here comes more forced romance

just let them be friends who grow to mutually respect each other blease

it is very fucking funny that the mom is like ….. oh my god…. oh my god,,, a WOMAN AJUST ANSEWREDM Y SDONGS PHONE?????????OH MY GOFD?????

he is bisexual. but it’s good he’s getting out

ah floofy hair

cahooting,

Yes You Do Need Clothes

that’s a teleporter sir

god eddie wild is such a boring fucking villain and person

and his plan SUCKS

also the serpent brotherhood (why BROTHERhood?) sucks and hates the library why would they just let this guy, a librarian, literally be their new leader

wow he just stabbed a guy on his OWN TEAM for no reason

great going asshole

love how lana is just like…. O-O

we stan lana. she hasn’t done much and she’s technically a bad guy i just love her

“at last we can be one” what does that even mean

why would lana or any of them want to help him he just killed one of their own for no reason hes clearly tripping on power and leaving yall to die

lfkgjdlkfgj flynn dodging so hard while the others is fight and then PUNCHING A GUY

dfglkjdflgkj wait it’s the professor dude why is that so funny

is he WITH THEM??? I think I just missed something

hold on a sec

yeah I think he just appears??? And flynn just fucking broke his nose iconic

wait so was he with them or is he just here going WHY ARE THERE RANDOM PEOPLE IN MY PYRAMID????????????

oh right he built the—ok I got it

Wait what

I mean I did think lana was neat and she seemed impressed with flynn but what shes just like, in love with him now? that makes zero fucking sense why would she want them to Be Together

Is it just so there can be a catfight between the two hot chicks?

seriously tho? morally pure blonde blue eyed girl versus Evil Asian Chick? really?

for the record NOT THAT IT MATTERS but lana is way cuter im just saying

ah badass judson

THE COMEDY OF THE CAPSTONE CRUSHING HIM DLFKGJDLKFGJ

oh………….pulling out excalibur…. predicable but so good

oh the painting….the very Parenty way of revealing it…… wholesome

oh did NOT like that transition

oh here comes the badass fucking entrance with his gf busting in on his mom trying to set him up with girls

HER ENTRANCE IS SO UNNECESSARAILY DRAMATIC I LOVE THEM

I just love the mom’s face ldfkgjldfkgjdlkfgjdlkfjgd shes like WHAT THEGUFVCJK

again I don’t love the vibes of “oh my weird loser son is finally normal!” but to be fair im exaggerating a bit from just facial expressions it’s just. sigh

but ngl the vindication of him being able to be like. yeah that’s right im a badass now and my gf is cool as fuck is still good

him and nicole do have not terrible vibes at the end but if I remember correctly that mission (time travelling ninjas and hg wells’s time machine) is the one that separated them so rip I guess

overall: good movie! as cringe as I remember but I still love flynn so much

[currentlylurking]

Phic Phight: Have Your Kingdom and Eat it Too

Danny goes to investigate a disturbance at Pariah’s Keep. There he finds a ruined sarcophagus, a broken ring, and a very confused man who apparently doesn’t remember his multiple evil deeds.

(Based on prompts by @ghostlyhabato and a lil bit of one by @imperfection-at-itsfinest)

Word Count: 5614

Have Your Kingdom and Eat it Too

Officially, Danny was not the Ghost King.

That was mostly because the Observants hated him, but the fact that there hadn’t actually been a Ghost King prior to Pariah also played a part. Apparently, he’d just up and declared himself the Ghost King and then tried to murder the Observants when he was told he couldn’t do that. While Danny thought they kinda sucked as an organization (reasons A through X were just how poorly about ten of them treated Clockwork), he was well aware how many lines that crossed.

All that aside, while Danny may not be the Ghost King, most of his allies wanted to deal with the Observants even less than he did. So they made him a ‘representative’ for their lands. A few of his enemies had even jumped on board, like Skulker and Walker, who hated the Observants way more than Danny did. It was kind of impressive, considering they didn’t even know Clockwork and how he was treated, but whatever. Government was weird.

Anyway, the point of this whole ramble was that Danny was not the Ghost King, but he was as close as the ghosts he knew could get him. So when something exploded at Pariah’s Keep and scared the nearby ghosts, who did the Observants arbitrarily decide had the stupid thing in his territory and had to investigate?

It was Danny. It was always Danny.

He floated in front of the stupid ugly building, about an hour and a half after said explosion. Nobody had run out and gone on a murderous rampage, or summoned an army of skeletons, or done any normal ‘world domination time’ things, so he was pretty sure he was safe. It had probably just been some teenaged ghosts, poking at stuff they shouldn’t. It happened a lot. Danny, who was also a teenaged ghost, was a prime example of it.

He flew through front door he’d smashed open last time he’d fought Pariah, briefly shifting to human form to dodge some of the traps that had managed to reset. It took him maybe ten minutes to invisibly reach the throne room.

Problem one was super obvious; the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep was destroyed. The top front had been smashed inwards and crumpled into the sarcophagus itself. The hinge was barely keeping the door attached. Scattered around it was ectoplasm and broken stone.

Someone had tried to punch Pariah through the sarcophagus, and then there’d been a fight. Because of course there had.

Still invisible, Danny floated a bit closer. Pariah wasn’t in the sarcophagus, and there wasn’t enough ectoplasm around to suggest that someone had destroyed him. Not that he knew anyone who could – he was pretty sure the only actually surviving Ancient was Nocturne, and that guy was a dick. Anyway, it had taken seven of them and Clockwork just to seal Pariah up that first time. Even if Pariah was still drained from the sarcophagus’ powers, he was not weak enough to destroy.

Danny lifted a chunk of rubble between two gloved fingers, examining it. Bits of blue ectoplasm dripped off it – so, not ghost blood. Leftovers from a parried attack, maybe? He snapped a picture with his phone anyway. Sam and Tucker were better at the detective stuff, he was better at punching stuff.

He set the rubble down, and continued poking around. The Keep was still far too quiet. He rolled a fallen column to the side and revealed one of Pariah’s gauntlets, with the now-smashed Ring of Rage still under it.

“Dope,” Danny said, and snapped a picture of that as well. The Ring of Rage sucked, and Valerie was still super invested in getting ‘a ring that proclaimed her a real ghost hunter’ despite the fact she knew that thing had belonged to an evil ghost. But whatever, Danny had just gotten shot when he asked her if a ring of bruises was close enough. Some people didn’t appreciate quality witty banter.

He shoved the column aside a bit more, revealing plenty of ectoplasm. The image of Pariah getting his hand crushed by a column was so funny that Danny couldn’t help but snort.

“Who’s there?!” Someone shouted. Danny snatched his invisible hands away from the column and glanced back where, unfortunately, his ‘where is Pariah’ question was answered.

The tyrant seemed… smaller now. It wasn’t a perspective thing; he was just closer to the height of a dude with giantism than a literal giant. His hand was also smashed, just like Danny had imagined, and wrapped in bandages. He was covered in other injuries, too; aside from the multitude of scrapes, when he tried to move up the stairs, he did so with a clear limp.

“Who’s there?” He demanded again. That was another thing – his accent wasn’t as pronounced.

What type of accent did he even have? Scottish? Why did the King of Ghosts who’d been in a deluxe sleepy sack for a thousand years have a Scottish accent? Was this one of those ‘pay more attention when Lancer speaks, Fenton,’ things?

Not important. Pariah came closer. He looked more scared than angry up close, though it was almost hidden by the fact whoever had broken him out had chopped up his face pretty badly. He looked like he’d been caught in a lawnmower, and also incredibly terrifying.

He hadn’t noticed the invisible Danny, though. That was nice. Danny used it to float back, over the column, in case he needed to use the good ol’ hand smasher for cover.

After a bit of poking around, Pariah huffed. “If there is anyone here, I just want to talk.” He said, and despite how funny it was that he thought anyone would fall for that, Danny did not snort. Pariah faced the opposite way from him, and looked over the pockmarked walls. “My – my name is Alric.” What. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

Okay, that was past the weird threshold. Danny sat cross-legged on the column and popped back into visibility. A shield was already half-formed in his hand. “Last I heard,” Pariah whipped around, “your name was Pariah Dark, King of Ghosts.”

Pariah stared at him for a second. He didn’t attack. “Are you the one who let me out?”

Danny scoffed. “No. I just had to investigate a disturbance in my territory.”

Pariah frowned. “I… see. I am Alric, and yes, I am the Ghost King. Who are you?”

“Danny Phantom. Your replacement.” He waved, “Sup?”

“Oh.” Pariah’s frown grew. “You’re a child.”

“And you’re a child murderer,” Danny shrugged. Pariah’s face turned ashen. “So, are you going to try and kill me now?”

“I – I’m not a murderer,” Pariah said, and gripped the side of his head with his uninjured hand. Danny hummed in disagreement. “I’d never hurt a child, much less kill one!”

“Yeah, no, I still have a scar from last time we fought.” Pariah gaped at him, then gripped his head harder. Danny watched impassively, shield still at the ready.

“Why did I assault a child?” He asked, and his unnecessary breathing started to get ragged. Danny floated up, watching Pariah for a second. “I – Spirits, why would I do that? Why can’t I remember? I –” he paused. “Clockwork.”

“Huh?” Danny said.

“Clockwork.” Pariah repeated, which was not comforting. “My friend. He – you said you were the next king,” he stopped for a second. Danny raised an eyebrow. “Do you know a man named Clockwork? Blue skin, scar over his eye, likes the colour purple?”

Danny had seen Clockwork last week for help with a history report. Clockwork was entirely unhelpful and had gotten personally offended at how ‘inaccurate and biased’ his history textbook was. He hadn’t mentioned anything about Pariah breaking out.

“No?” Danny said. He wasn’t a snitch, and after three years of ghost fighting, he’d gotten pretty good at not messing up simple lies. “Why?”

Pariah’s face, once again, turned ashen. “Do you… know the Observants? Did they make you Ghost King?”

“I – I’m not –” nevermind, Danny was still a garbage liar. “They didn’t make me anything, it was my allies, they sort of voluntold me to go be, y’know,” he gestured vaguely, “and the Observants had to go with it. There were a lot of them.” Nevermind the fact that he was not the Ghost King.

“But… you’re a child.” Pariah said. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep bringing it up. Clockwork is – was my friend.” He had a bit of a weird inflection on the word ‘friend,’ which made Danny trust him even less than he did before. “There’s this item called the skeleton key, it’s very important to him. Do you know where it is?”

Danny raised an eyebrow once again. “Uh, dude, are you okay? I kind of expected you to try and kill me at least once by now.”

“I already said I – Spirits, what sort of things did I do to make you believe that?” He lowered his hands. “Danny Phantom, I give you my word that I will not harm you.”

Yeesh, could this day get any weirder? “Appreciate that, but Pariah, I really don’t believe you.”

“Alric,” he said. “My name is not Pariah. I don’t know why I would have changed it. I can barely remember anything between a dinner gone wrong and waking up not too long ago, my hand stuck under that column.”

“Uh-huh, I saw. Smashed your ring and everything.” Danny said, and pointed down at it. Pariah – Alric? Nah, he didn’t deserve a new name – frowned at the artifact. He took a step towards it. Danny threw up the shield he’d been holding. “What went wrong at the dinner?” He asked. He watched Pariah pull back a bit.

“I – I believe,” he said very reluctantly, “that it was a chef’s fault. My friend I mentioned, Clockwork, he was curious and went to watch her prepare the meal. I came in to check on the preparations as she began to call him horrible things. I was furious. I lost my temper.” He looked down at his hands. “I destroyed her, right in front of Clockwork. He was terrified. How did I not notice it then? Spirits, he must hate me…”

Danny, despite his best efforts, could almost sympathize – he’d nearly punched a few Observants after seeing how they treated Clockwork. The idea of other ghosts doing that was hard to handle. “Am I supposed to feel bad for you? You just admitted you killed a lady.” He said. He stood, dropping the shield. “Who let you out?” He pointed a thumb at the ruined sarcophagus.

“I’m not sure,” Pariah said slowly, and tore his eyes away from the ring. Danny kicked it down the stairs and quickly stepped away. “It was this ghost in a white cloak. I’m not sure what happened, I barely saw him. I think we fought, but after he pinned my arm he left. He didn’t say much. I never saw his face, but he threw these bandages at me when I asked him who he was. Once my mind had cleared I left to patch up my wounds and returned when I heard you.”

“Neat. No idea who that’s supposed to be, but I’ll tell the Observants to keep an eye out.” He caught the flicker of a scowl on Pariah’s face. “Now. If you’re not going to kill me or try and take over the world, what do we do now?”

“That’s your decision, my king,” Pariah said. Danny couldn’t help the face he pulled – Pariah didn’t notice it, though. “If I have any choice, though, I’d like to stay as far away from the Observants as possible.”

“Most people would, hence why they make me deal with them instead.” Danny shrugged. He looked over Pariah’s injuries again – whoever that cloaked ghost was, he had done a number on one of the most powerful ghosts ever. Danny didn’t know if he should be impressed or terrified. “How hurt are you?”

“Quite injured, I think,” Pariah admitted. He examined his bandaged hand. “I have a rather high pain tolerance, but the damage I suffered was significant.”

“Right. So, I’m going to take you to a guy who knows how to ask the right questions to figure out what we do with you, and also fix you up. We should probably make a sling before we do that, though…” Danny trailed off, examining the walls. “We should also disguise you so that other people don’t see you and panic.” He hummed, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, I know!”

.-.

“Great One, what is that?”

“Hello,” Pariah said, from under the tapestry Danny had thrown over him. He looked like a bedsheet ghost, although he wore an evil looking moth-eaten tapestry instead of a white sheet. His broken horn half poked out of a hole, tangled in red thread.

“Good question,” Danny said, and pulled the tapestry off. Frostbite took a step back, closer to the exit of the ice cave they’d been waiting in. “Sorry to drag him here but, uh,” he gestured vaguely to all of Pariah, “help.”

Frostbite continued to stare at Pariah for a moment longer. Pariah, for his part, stayed silent. “Come with me, Great One.” He frowned, “And… you.” He led the way. Danny flung the tapestry back over Pariah as they passed by the other yetis. A few bowed, but more simply waved. Danny waved back and gave wider smiles to the ones who didn’t bow.

Pariah watched the exchanges with a frankly disturbing look in his eye, which Danny decidedly ignored.

Eventually, Frostbite led them to a hospital-like room. “Sit,” he said, and Pariah did. Danny helped pull off the tapestry once again as Frostbite produced some ectoplasmic gloves. “Now. I would like an explanation, please.”

Danny shrugged. “Observants told me the keep was in ‘my territory’ and that something blew up there. So I went to investigate, I found him and a smashed ring of rage, he says he’s not evil anymore and that he won’t hurt me, also that some white-cloaked weirdo broke him out.” Danny frowned, and ran everything over in his mind. “And… yeah, no, that’s about it. Any advice?”

Frostbite frowned and turned to Pariah.

“Your king sums it up quite well,” Pariah said, and Frostbite grinned.

“Oh, so you’ve abdicated and passed the throne on to Danny Phantom?”

Pariah frowned. “I…” he glanced at Danny, and very reluctantly sighed. “I suppose?”

Frostbite whoop’d, and Pariah leaned away from him. “Excellent! I will spread the word, and we will have the biggest party in centuries! This is a wonderful day that will be remembered for ages!”

“Great!” Danny said, despite the fact this was not great at all. “Real neat! Can we focus on this first?”

“Of course, my king,” Frostbite said, and Danny did not sigh. “When you say Pariah is no longer –”

“Alric,” Pariah corrected once again. “Please, I don’t know why I would ever change my name to something as absolutely stupid as that. I –” he stopped, frowned, and squinted past Frostbite. Danny followed his gaze, and watched Pariah look himself over in a wall of shiny ice. “What the hell am I wearing?”

“Armor,” Frostbite offered, and began to unwrap Pariah’s bandaged hand.

“I noticed that part, I just – this is actually revolting. I look ridiculous.” Pariah huffed, ran his unbroken hand through his hair. “Why is my hair so long? And am I –” another pause, and more squinting. Pariah sounded particularly horrified. “Am I wearing eyeliner?”

“Huh,” Danny said, and watched as Pariah rubbed his eye. The raccoon effect around them confirmed that yes, the king of ghosts, a super evil mass murderer, had been wearing cheap eyeliner. He watched Pariah stare at his hand in abject horror. “I mean, it helps you look threatening.” He offered. “My friend Sam likes her eyeliner wings sharp enough to kill a man. And Vlad wears eyeliner whenever he’s out doing evil stuff, says it makes his eyes pop.”

“I don’t want to do anything evil!” Pariah protested. “Is it off?”

“Sit still,” Frostbite scolded. “You can wash your face after I’m done, if that is such a big issue.”

For a moment, Pariah sat there like a pouting child. Danny couldn’t help but snicker – his weird tolerance had been smashed to pieces, now it was just funny. Pariah had nearly killed him and Valerie, severely messed up the Ghost Zone, and now he was sitting on a bed complaining because he’d put make-up on at some point. How did this happen to people?

Frostbite paused his examination of Pariah’s hand. “Huh,” he said thoughtfully. He set the hand down and began to try and comb through Pariah’s hair. “Pardon me for a moment.”

“Like, officially?” Danny asked, grinning. From the look Frostbite shot him, now was not the time for royalty jokes. Not good. He floated over. “What’s up?”

“Do I have lice?” Pariah asked. “Feel free to shave my head if you must. I have no attachment to whatever atrocity happened to my hair.”

“Forget your hair,” Danny said, “what about your hand?” With the bandage gone, Danny could see that Pariah’s ring finger looked black and necrotic, with spiderweb-like black veins curling across the skin. It was also just messed up in general, but those were normal ghost-limb-got-crushed injuries. The weird veins were not.

“I genuinely have no idea,” Pariah offered, “it was like that when I came to my senses.”

“It’s not alone,” Frostbite said, and parted a section of his hair – there were more of those veins across his scalp, centralized at the top of his head.

“Huh,” Danny said. “That’s… huh. I think I have to up my weird tolerance. Do you know what that is?”

“Generally,” Frostbite said slowly as he pulled back, “marks such as that are leftover after a malicious curse has ended.”

“Why would they be on his head and hand, then?” Danny said. It clicked as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “The ring and crown!”

Frostbite frowned. “Great One, are you implying what it sounds like you are?”

“I mean, I would hope so.” He shrugged and pulled back. Pariah watched him, vaguely confused. “Where’d you get the ring of rage and crown of fire, dude?” Danny pulled a face. “Seriously, the names sound super evil. Why would you put those on?”

“I just thought they’d make me more powerful?” Pariah said, and rubbed the side of his head with his good hand. “I don’t understand. I didn’t have them on all the time. I would take them off when I wanted to rest. My memories cut off well after I got them.”

“Curses take time,” Frostbite said thoughtfully. “I could take an ectoplasm sample, and have one of our labs examine it, but it does seem likely Danny Phantom’s theory is correct. The crown was destroyed by the Observants two years ago.”

“And the ring was destroyed two hours ago,” Danny said, and pulled up the picture on his phone to show Frostbite. “So… the curse is broken because of some weirdo in a cloak who wanted to try out property damage, and you’re no longer evil?”

“The Observants cursed me,” Pariah said, quietly.  

“I would not pin the blame on them,” Frostbite said warily, “or on anyone at all. You should do your best to move past this.”

“No.” Pariah said, a bit of a growl burning through his throat. Danny and Frostbite both took a step back. “They did this on purpose.”

“Oookay,” Danny said slowly, keeping himself between Pariah and Frostbite. “How about you take some deep breaths and calm down. I know you’re a ghost, but those help.” He shrugged. Pariah started to scowl. “It’s probably best if you don’t spend your first day as an uncursed dude repeating a murder rampage on the government.”

That gave him a moment of pause. “When did I murder Observants? By the time I had reason to, they were all in hiding.”

“Uh, when you attacked their house?” Danny said. He glanced at Frostbite, who nodded. “Yeah. Early on in your kingship, they said you weren’t a real king, so you tried to kill them. It’s Ghost Zone History 101.”

“No. I never tried to kill any of them.” Pariah’s scowl was more pronounced, but less directed at them. “They did denounce me publicly, I remember that. But I went there to talk, like a normal person, to see if we could find some middle ground.” He scoffed, “That lasted for all of five minutes before they decided it’d be easier to destroy me. I defended myself, but I made no effort to kill anyone. When I returned the next day they were gone, so I raided their artifacts. That is where I got the ring and crown. It was a backup plan, in case their murder attempt failed.”

“Or,” Frostbite said, “it was an unlucky coincidence. As far as I know, the Observants’ view of the timestream is limited. They would not be able to predict that.”

Pariah huffed. He was silent for a second, but Danny stayed on edge. “How long has it been since I was locked away?” He asked.

“A bit over a millennium, I believe,” Frostbite said. “One of my ancestors was part of the ancient seven who sealed you away. I should have the exact date recorded in our history wing.”

“It’s super cool,” Danny said as Pariah leaned forwards, head in his hand. “They have some really neat cave paintings and stuff there.”

“I… I’ll have to take a look at that.” Pariah said. His voice was strained. He sounded a bit like he was three steps from a breakdown. “Is there a list anywhere? Of the people I – I hurt?”

“Of those you destroyed, yes. I don’t believe injuries were registered.” Frostbite said. He guided Danny aside and returned to tending to Pariah’s hand. “It is not with me, but I could request a copy.”

“Thank you.” Pariah said. “Would you – do you know if the name Clockwork is on it?”

Frostbite glanced back at Danny. He’d met Clockwork once, sometime after the revelation that Frostbite’s ancestor had been an Ancient and that Clockwork had helped them. They’d gotten along okay, Frostbite was a – pun intended – super chill guy, and Clockwork, as awkward as he was, had easily found common ground with the yetis. He’d also been impressed that they were nice to him since, apparently, Frostbite’s ancestor had been a real jerk.

Danny shook his head. Frostbite gave a small nod and refocused on Pariah. “I can’t say that name is familiar. Why?”

“He was my friend.” Again, Pariah said friend super weirdly.

“Ah,” Frostbite said. He’d moved on to examining Pariah’s limp and copied the weird tone. “A ‘friend.’”

“Yes, a friend.” Pariah said defensively. He hissed when Frostbite adjusted his ankle. “He was closest to me after the events with the Observants. Physically and otherwise.”

“I’m sure,” Frostbite said.

“I just want to know if I hurt him.” Pariah said, his bowed head coloured by a blush Danny almost missed. “There’s something else that’s just as important. There’s an item called the skeleton key. Do you know where it is?”

“No,” Frostbite lied. He knew just as well as Danny did that it was with the Observants. “Why?”

“It’s important to Clockwork,” Pariah said, and left that incredibly vague statement at that.

“How so?” Danny asked, and floated closer.

“It’s important,” Pariah stressed. “I know it opens any lock in the Zone. I don’t care about that anymore, certainly not if I used it to hurt people. But it belongs to Clockwork, and I had it before the curse took effect. I was closer to him than anyone. I could have hurt him.”

Danny said nothing. He wasn’t sure what he could say that wasn’t just Clockwork’s personal business. But he didn’t like the picture this was painting – Clockwork had, however reluctantly, admitted that the Observants used the key to control him. Danny didn’t know the specifics. He didn’t like the idea of Pariah knowing them, ‘previously cursed’ and ‘friend of Clockwork’ or not. Besides, Clockwork had helped the Ancients seal Pariah away. He wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Even if they’d been friends once, Clockwork definitely wasn’t one now.

Despite Danny’s best efforts, he was about the only friend Clockwork had.

The silence hung for a bit longer. “If, by any chance,” Pariah spoke up, “you’re lying because you don’t trust me, I understand that. I just want Clockwork to be safe.”

“Mood,” Danny said. Pariah frowned at him. He backtracked. “I’ll ask around. See what I can do.”

“Be sure to use your Kingly Sway when you do so!” Frostbite said, apparently delighted by the topic change. He turned to grab more disinfectant.

“Is that even a thing?” Danny asked. “Also, pretty big flaw if it is. Considering, y’know, the thing.” The ‘not actually being the ghost king’ thing.

Frostbite laughed. He stepped over and slapped Danny on the back. “That’s not an issue anymore, Danny Phantom! The Observants have no say in this!” He gestured to Pariah, who just looked confused. “Not when the previous king has passed the throne on to you!”

Pariah and Danny stared at each other for a second, and it was impossible to tell who was more confused.

“He’s a child,” Pariah said.

“I’m only half dead,” Danny said, at somewhat the same time.

“What?” Pariah asked.

“Both can be worked around until they are no longer issues!” Frostbite said. “But this is wonderful news! You should be happy, Great One – finally, the Observants will leave us alone!”

There was a soft ahem. The group looked to the left – a portal had been cut through the ice wall, and in front of it floated a white-cloaked figure. It waved a clawed, green hand, and poorly hidden under the hood was one red eye. “Is this a good time?”

“You’re an Observant,” Danny said. Frostbite guided him closer.

“…Well, I suppose the disguise was pointless then. That’s groovy.” The Observant said. He took off his cloak and slung it over an arm. “Anyway. What’s shakin’?”

“You’re not allowed here,” Frostbite said. He kept his eyes fixed on the portal.

“I’m not staying,” the Observant said, “I’m just here to make a delivery.” He pulled the skeleton key out of his robes.

“You have it?” Pariah snapped, already on his feet.

“A delivery for Danny Phantom, sit down before you hurt yourself.” He floated forwards, eye still on Pariah, and pressed the key into Danny’s hands.

“Thank you?” Danny said. “Are you the one who released Pariah?”

The Observant seemed to frown. “His name’s Alric. If you can turn your back on him, you can call him by his name.”

“Don’t defend me,” Pariah – Alric – said. “I don’t want your help. Where’s Clockwork?”

“Funny,” the Observant said, and backed up significantly. “You needed my help earlier, when I knocked that column over and uncursed you. Oh, and before that, when I lobbied the Overseers enough that they gave in and destroyed the crown. Honestly, they’re artifacts of power that can only be wielded by an ‘evil spirit.’ Everyone involved with that division knew they had some sort of curse; it wasn’t like they were in the dark about it. Why did they need to keep those?” He paused. “This is a bad time to get distracted. Yes, I released him.”

“Why?” Frostbite narrowed his eyes. “Observants are not supposed to intervene, and they don’t act alone.”

“He’s right,” Alric growled, and came to join their line. “Whatever you want with me, I am not interested.”

“Yeah, you are.” The Observant said. “I know my history. You and Danny are the best shot.”

Danny pulled a face. Alric scoffed. Frostbite continued to stare.

“Why are you here?” Frostbite asked. “Where does that portal lead?”

The Observant shook his head. “I can’t tell you where it leads. I would rather not be murdered for doing the right thing. Take a chill pill, dude. You should have plenty of those lying around.”

“Okay!” Danny said loudly, “Observants aren’t allowed to say dude, that’s too weird! Why’d you release Pariah?”

“Alric,” the Observant corrected. “And the same reason I gave you the key. It’s the right thing to do, personal fears or not.” He focused on Alric, “He’s in the same room you found him in before. They shut him down once word got around you were out. Do what you have to.”

Danny looked back when Alric growled. When he refocused on the Observant, all he saw was a closing portal.

“Well!” Danny said, clapping his hand around the key, “That was weird!” Alric’s hand reached over his shoulder. Danny frantically passed the key to Frostbite and whipped around.

“I need that key,” he practically begged.

“No,” Danny said, “not unless I get a more concrete reason why you need it.”

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said, “Please. He’s with the Observants again, and I need to go rescue him.”

“You are not attacking the Observants again,” Frostbite said. Alric scowled, and lunged for him – two blasts of ice froze his feet to the ground.

Danny lowered his hands. “You heard him,” he said, “Why do you need to rescue Clockwork?”

Alric hesitated. “They use that key to control him. He’ll be comatose in a closet again, just like he was last time – I’m not going to kill anyone, I just need to save Clockwork! Please!”

“How am I supposed to trust that?” Danny asked, and refroze the bit of ice that broke when Alric strained. “What do you mean comatose?”

“Exactly as it sounds.” He scowled, “They use that key to shut down his consciousness, and he needs to be… be regularly wound with it, or it will happen naturally. As long as someone else has it, he’s bound to them. He doesn’t have a choice. I need to get him out.”

“No,” Frostbite said, “we cannot trust that. We –” Danny melted the ice at Pariah’s ankles. “What are you doing?”

“He’s right,” Danny said, and held out his hand. “That checks out with what Clockwork told me about his body. We’re going to go bust him out. Key, please.”

“Great One,” Frostbite said, “you can’t be serious. He is still injured and cannot be trusted.”

“Clockwork can.” Danny said. He glanced at Alric. “I lied, by the way. I definitely know Clockwork. He’s great. I’m coming with you.”

“Oh,” Alric said.

“This isn’t wise –”

“Dude,” Danny said, “if you want me to be king, then you need to trust me. Besides, you don’t like the Observants either. Come on, Frostbite.” He smiled, “Just trust me.”

The silence held. Then, Frostbite passed the key back.

“I’ll arrange a ride for us.” He pointed at Alric, “Do not leave without me.”

Alric frowned but made no effort to run down the open door. He looked Danny over. “You know Clockwork?”

“He saved me from the Observants once,” Danny said, “I owe him my family’s life.”

“Oh,” Alric said. “Good for him.”

.-.

In the second basement in the Observatory, Alric ripped the knob off a closet door when he tried to pry it open.

“Oh jeez,” Danny said, “he meant a literal closet.”

They hadn’t run into many Observants. The few they’d seen had taken one look at Alric and flung themselves in the other direction. Frostbite had followed them in, and still stood a few steps behind Danny and Alric as they pried open the door. The bottom hinge snapped with a final tug on the hole that used to hold a knob. Alric pulled it open, and Danny, in all his stick-thin, not-quite-five-foot glory squeezed through the gap.

In front of him was a crumpled form wrapped in purple fabrics, normally blue skin clear to reveal the still gears that made up Clockwork’s form. Danny knelt down and poked him with the skeleton key.

Nothing.

“That’s not how you do it,” Alric said, and took a knee in the small space beside him. Surprisingly delicate, he opened the glass of Clockwork’s case and placed the key in a grove between the gears. There was a click, and then the key lit up. Clockwork, too, lit up – his gears began to move again, and his skin clouded over, blue once more. Alric pulled the key out and took a step back. Danny stayed where he was.

Clockwork groaned as he cracked open an eye. “Danny,” he said, already obviously anxious, “you shouldn’t be here. The Observants –” He stopped. He’d sat up enough that he could see the other two in the doorway.

“Hello,” Alric said, softly, like he thought Clockwork would break. Frostbite raised his eyebrows and muttered something about ‘abuse’ and ‘legalities.’

By the time Danny blinked, he was back in Clockwork’s tower, a medallion hanging around his neck. Clockwork had his hands on his shoulders. Danny had the key in his hands.

“Danny,” Clockwork stressed, “what did you do?”

“Rude. Technically, I did nothing.” Clockwork’s frown deepened. Danny held up the key. “D’ya want this back now? An Observant went rogue and gave it to me. Also he uncursed Alric by breaking the ring, apparently.”

“Alric?” Clockwork repeated. He stared at Danny, eyes flickering over him. “…Yes, I want the key back.” Danny handed it over. “I need you to answer me honestly. What is going on?”

“Uh. Well. For one thing, Frostbite implied I’m actually the Ghost King now.”

Clockwork’s sigh was several seconds longer than it had any right to be.

***

Prompt 1: Pariah Dark got out again! Danny goes to take care of it, but Pariah is acting.... weird. Not-evil weird. Turns out something or someone else caused Pariah (If that is his real name) to be the raging tyrant history knows him as, but the influence has ended and he's a new (or renewed) person now. What changed, and who's at fault? (Ghostlyhabato)

Prompt 2: Danny ISN’T the ghost king. (imperfection-at-itsfinest)

Reasons to be my friend: when you tell me your lore I write you fics about it so you don’t have to! Nocturne doesn’t get to appear in this fic despite being an Ancient bc he’s gross and stinky. No one likes him. He sucks. 

[lessons-from-moths]

Fic writers let’s goooo

Found this circling online and I will be doing it ok and I would love to see all of your responses ! 

I love writing Friends to Lovers and Hurt/Comfort

Hardest fic of 2020 was “I love you 5 thousand different ways”

Easiest fic of 2020 was “The stars are the exception”

Favorite story ever is probably one I haven’t published yet (sequel to “The hands we’re given”)

I hop really badly. It makes editing super difficult lol

I’ve never deleted a published fic because I see them all as my writing history. Even the unfinished ones, even the awful ones. I’ll probably always keep them up unless someone finds them offensive/hurtful.

Best writing advice: rewrite. I hate it so much but it’s really good. I also like the reminder that readers are only seeing 10% of your character, but you still have to develop 100% of them anyways. 

The worst: just write! What the fuck does that even mean? It’s unhelpful and doesn’t make me want to write. 

I have not collabed! I do come here for help though and the Pac-Man gang always has my back.

I currently have 40 WIPs, 25 of which will likely never be published. 

I’m most proud of “Broken Toys” bc even though I hate the writing I love that it’s been an educational tool for those who don’t know much about asexuality and a place for other aces to feel seen. 

I’m currently really invested in “The Art of Burning”  by hella1975 but I truly can’t pick just one I have so many favorites and have a ton of respect for other fic authors

Best review? I also can’t pick. I have the most incredible readers who are way too nice to me and make me feel very loved and appreciated. When I’m especially sad I’ll reread comments from “Big Dai Energy” because everyone there is so nice even though I don’t deserve it 

Worst review omg okay so back in my Teen Wolf writing days I got this insane comment where they were angry that I gave someone’s werewolf betas to a different alpha for the purpose of the plot, and they ranted like crazy about it. It was so funny, and I got a ton of comments aimed at that person from other readers who were like “???? What is ur problem?” 

Hmm I think I’d write a prequel to “you told me that you fell in love with it, hadn’t gone as I planned” by @just-a-gay-bean because it would probs be angsty as hell and she created such a rich history that it would probably be a pleasant write

I do reread my own stories, mostly to cringe and remind myself how to make my future ones better

Nah, being published seems like a lot of work. Writing is just a nice outlet. I think it would be kinda cool to develop a TV show (my friend and I are sort of working on one right now)

I love writing Akaashi Keiji and Kuroo Tetsurou

It’s hard and not as fun for me to write characters that I don’t think much about, like the Miya twins, Hinata, and Yachi. I think they’re great characters, but I just have no clue how to write them. 

I set tons of deadlines. If I can’t make them, I usually get pretty discouraged.

Oh god okay justagaybean, hella1975 and literally I can’t think of any more specifically and I promised myself i wouldn’t look things up

I want to try a magic AU, I think it would be a lot of fun.

I will never write A/B/O outside of actual werewolf fanfic (Teen Wolf in particular lol) or mpreg. Just not my thing.

I’ve been posting on AO3 since 2015 but I posted works to Wattpad and Quotev (Quizzaz at the time) back in 2011. They were really, really bad.

Other fanfic writers are a huge influence! I also take a lot of inspiration from music and life experience.

Hardest part is staying true to the story and the characters, and making sure that your vision stays consistent.

Easiest part is coming up with a loose plot and shoving in the characters you like haha

Best part of writing fanfic is reimagining your favorite characters in interesting storylines, happier worlds, and/or with deeper connections than they have in canon. I love how there’s no limit to the possibilities

Plot of a WIP: Character A moves into a new apartment after leaving their abusive ex and starts a shiny new job. They meet Character B (their neighbor) as well as a ton of people at their job, in the apartment, and at the corner store. They slowly grow into A’s support group and A is just like “huh, weird that people can still like me even after I’ve been ruined” and then eventually A and B strike up a great friendship that turns into something more and it’s really angsty but also really hopeful.

I think I bring versatility. I try to reimagine the characters as I see them rather than what the fandom sees them as in fanon but I also think that it helps that my fics are all incredibly different. 

[chungledown-bimothy]

Trust Me: Chapter 9

I cannot thank y’all enough for your patience. Hopefully the fact that it’s a relatively big chapter a little bit kinda makes up for the wait? Either way, thank you so much for reading, and I love you <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 8 AO3 Chapter 10

Warnings: A brief mention of the wounds from previous chapters’ violence, very briefly implied nsfw/daddy kink (to skip it, just don’t read the text messages after “Aww, you’re so sweet!”

Author’s Note: Again, the cipher is crackable with the information you have. (I’d argue that this one might be a bit harder, because I gave you fewer/subtler clues, but if you get how it’s encrypted, decoding it is a lot easier.) Shoutout to y’all who got last chapter’s! <3

Word Count: 3,660

Tag List: @ccecode​ @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn​ @ren-allen​ @ilovemygaydad​ @bloodropsblog​ @funsizedgremlin​ @raygelkitty​ @roxiefox23​ @thomasthesandersengine​ @spookyingarbageisland​ @band-be-boss-blog​

"The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it," Virgil muttered. Running his hand through his hair, he looked up to see that it was 8:30. He'd been at his desk staring at a copy of the note for over two hours. There was something familiar about the phrase; the feeling that he'd heard it before played in the back of his mind, just out of reach. He was sure that it was the key to solving the entire thing.

God, I wish I remembered more from that cryptology class I took in college. Okay, time for a new approach. Clean slate, let's go through what we know about him, Virgil thought.

He's a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He's highly intelligent and well-educated, likely with a medical background of some sort. He's a mission-based killer, set on punishing people he feels got away with things, things the system should have punished them fore. Before Jason Dean, it seems. That change in victimology must be connected to why he sent this note, so I'll put a pin in that for now; I'll talk to Vincent about the autopsy report when he's done with it. 

He seems divided; some of the torture is methodical, but some of it seems more motivated by rage than purpose. And then there's how he treats them. Mission-oriented killers don't often torture their victims; the payoff is from the kill itself. But he's feeding them, keeping them alive for a while so he can torture them.

Does he want them to know what he's done? That's it. He wants them to recognize their 'sins', perhaps even repent for them. He needs the validation that comes from them acknowledging his power and that he is correct.

Everything he does has a literal meaning and a symbolic one, he continued. Nothing has only one meaning. On the surface, he's saying that he knows that what he's doing is wrong, legally at least, but he finds it beautiful. Interesting choice of wording. Not right, not just. Beautiful. It feels like he cares more about the torture than the mission. But then why the remorse with the pseudo-burial? He's so full of contradictions. And then there's the bit at the end. "Publish me", he said, not "publish this". Which goes back to the fact that he's got one hell of an ego; he wants the focus on him. Which directly flies in the face of most mission oriented killers- they want the focus on their message. 

I would almost think that there might be two unsubs, but two people being this organized and methodical is extremely unlikely. He's way too egotistical to cooperate with a partner, however submissive said partner might be. 

So, we've got an incredibly smart unsub who knows it and feels like he isn't getting the attention he deserves. A younger child, maybe? Not that that would help us find him. Round up every smart, egotistical younger son in the city. We'd get the founders of every tech start-up in the city; it'd be Gentrifiers-R-Us. Virgil shook his head to clear out the unhelpful thoughts. Focus, Virge. You're on a clock. So, what kind of encryption does someone like that send? What kind of encryption has each word represented by three numbers? It's not a trifid cipher; none of the numbers would be bigger than three, and these numbers range from 1 to 192. Most number ciphers assign a number to each letter; no way in hell all of the words are three letters, and 192 and 26 do not play well together mathematically. Think, Virgil.

Fuck. Okay, let's try another new angle. The series of numbers at the end. Clearly not part of the message. 10 digits, but clearly not a phone number. 055 certainly isn't a US area code, and the number isn't long enough for a foreign dialing code plus the rest of the phone number. Wait. Maybe it's backwards? 310 is Los Angeles. 

Virgil took out his phone and dialed 310-053-3550, heart in his throat. It rang twice before an automated voice informed him that "the number you have dialed is no longer in service". Damn. His heart started beating in an entirely different way when he saw that he had some new texts.

6:22 [Patton]- Hi cutie! Are you free, by any chance? It's been a really bad day, and seeing you always makes me feel so much better. <3

6:50 [Patton]- I was thinking we could get some dinner and then watch a movie or something at my place

7:48 [Patton]- Virge?

Virgil's stomach dropped. Oh god do they think I'm ignoring them? Oh shit. He quickly typed out a reply.

8:53[Virgil<3]- Hey, Pat, I'm here. I'm so, so sorry you're having a bad day. I can't hang out tonight, though. :'( I'd be with you if I could, though. It's been a rough one for me, too. Wanna talk about what's been bringing you down?

Their reply was almost instant.

[Patton]- Virgil! :D Aww, stormcloud, it's okay. Life happens; it wouldn't be healthy for either of us if you dropped everything when I'm just a little down. Besides, it was nothing, really. Just me being dramatic lol

Virgil felt himself blush at the endearment, but his brow furrowed reading the rest of the message.

[Virgil<3]- You sure? It also isn't healthy to bottle up your emotions. I care a lot about you and am always here if you want to talk about anything.

[Patton]- God, you're the sweetest! <3 I care a lot about you too. I promise, though, I really am fine. Do you wanna talk about what's bumming you out?

[Virgil<3]- I really wish I could, but I actually have to get back to it. I'll message you later <3

[Patton]- okie dokie. Don't work too late, okay?

He chuckled as he put his phone away and looked back at the note on his desk. Heather and Kurt are obviously people, Ram probably is too. Who are they, and what do they mean to him? The phone on his desk started to ring; Virgil jumped.

"H- hello? Detective Mason here." Virgil cursed himself for the shaky greeting.

"Virgil! I'm glad you're still here. It's Vincent. You said you wanted to know as soon as the autopsy was done; I'm waiting for a couple of particulates to come back, but the bulk of it is ready for you." 

"Vincent, you are a lifesaver. I'll be down in a minute."

"Did you know that the candy Life Savers was invented in 1912 as a summer confectionary alternative to chocolate, which has a melting point of approximately 86 degrees?"

"I definitely did not know that, but I did know that they started as mints and didn't become the fruity candy we associate most with the brand now until the mid-1920s."

"Fruit flavors were introduced in 1921, to be exact, but they did not have holes in them like the mints did until 1925, which is probably the date to which you were referring."

Virgil laughed. "Damn, I thought I had you. I'll be right down." He hung up the phone and left for the morgue. 

Three minutes later, he found himself being hugged by Dr. Nigel-Murray.

"I'm as touch-starved as the next gay, but why the hug? We just saw each other, like, five hours ago." Virgil looked slightly down at Vincent with a small smile.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to curb my workplace-inappropriate tendencies, but, barring once during a time of great stress, people in general don't respond in kind to my facts." Virgil's heart broke for the vulnerability and pain in his voice, and he made a mental note to learn as much trivia as possible.

"That's a damn shame. You're a great guy, Vince- let's get coffee or something once I've cracked this damn code."

"That sounds quite lovely, actually. What code, if I may ask?" Vincent's smile was appropriate for the fact that they were at work, but Virgil could tell that he was practically bouncing with excitement internally.

"Our killer sent a reporter a coded message. I've got about 21 hours to crack it if I want to get this guy to come to me."

"Not to overstep, but I've dabbled a bit in cryptography; perhaps I could be of some assistance?" 

"I'd love another set of eyes on this, actually. Thank you! Here, give me your number, and I'll text you a picture of it once we've wrapped up here." Virgil pulled out his phone and unlocked it to find that his messages with Patton were still pulled up. He tried to stop himself from smiling, but he couldn't.

Vincent chuckled. "He must be pretty special, to get a smile like that out of you." Virgil blushed.

"Uh, yeah, they are. At least, I think so. I hope so." Virgil fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, refusing to make eye contact.

"Sorry about the pronoun flub. So, tell me about them!"

Virgil hesitated; opening up about his feelings certainly wasn't one of his strong suits, but he liked Vincent and wanted to be his friend.

“They’re incredible. Their name is Patton, and they run We Hart Coffee just a few blocks from here. They’re so funny and kind, and I’ve never seen a smile like theirs. It’s so genuine and infectious. The world genuinely is a brighter and happier place around them.”

“You really love them, huh?” 

“I- What? No. No way. That’s way too cliche. We meet in a coffee shop and are in love within a couple of weeks? This is real life, and stuff like that only happens in movies and fanfiction. And completely unrealistic. What?" Virgil snapped, seeing the grin on Vincent's face.

"Trust me, Virgil. My first doctorate advisor, Doctor Brennan, was in deep denial of her love for her partner, Agent Booth. They're now happily married with two kids. I know what repressed love looks like, and you, my friend, have it in proverbial spades."

"I'm not sure that that's the right use for that cliche, and besides…" Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So what if you're right? Even if I did love them, which I don't, they don't love me back."

"Not yet, perhaps, but you're a great guy, Virgil. Smart, funny, caring, and quite handsome. If I were into men, I'm certain I would be half in love with you, myself. Just give them time."

"Christ, Vince, I'm gonna cry at work and ruin the tough-guy aesthetic I work so hard to maintain."

Vincent hummed his disbelief. "As much as I love chatting with you, I believe you're here about a murder. Follow me, if you will."

"Right. Murder." Virgil muttered before following him into the lab.

"So, you know who he is. 18 year old Mission High student Jason Dean. You saw the burns, frostbite, and acid damage. We were able to determine that the frostbite was caused by liquid nitrogen, and the killer used hydrochloric acid. We also found that while he was less dehydrated than the part victims, likely due to being held for only about a week, as opposed to two or three like previous victims, he was far more malnourished than the others."

"God, why is he changing so much? A kid, a shortened timetable, not feeding him. What was the cause of death?"

"Strychnine poisoning."

"See, that's a huge departure, too. All of the previous torture was from knives and hands. Why the sudden change to substances? Did he get injured, or is something else limiting his manual dexterity?"

"I don't know about any of that, but strychnine is a fairly popular poison in popular culture; Agatha Christie used it three times- in Mysterious Affair at Styles, The Coming of Mr. Quin, and How Does Your Garden Grow?, and Arthur Conan Doyle used it in-"

"Oh. OH. Vincent, I love you, you know-it-all." Virgil started pacing, running his fingers through his hair.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd."

"What? Strychnine wasn't used in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd; Ackroyd was stabbed."

"Yes, I know. The note the killer sent. At the bottom of the code, he wrote 'the truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it'. It seemed so familiar, but I couldn't place it until you just brought up Agatha Christie. Poirot said it in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The number. I'm an idiot."

"Breathe, Virgil. I assume that you just cracked the code?"

"Not quite. But I cracked our unsub. I knew it. I knew he'd hand me the answer. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out."

"Okay, so how does The Murder of Roger Ackroyd help you?"

"Under the quote is a thirteen digit number. I'd bet my life that it's an ISBN for a specific printing of the book. It's an Arnold Cipher. Each series of three numbers is a page, line, and word. It was staring me in the face. I truly am Boo-Boo the Fool." Vincent was puzzled by Virgil's last sentence, but Virgil was far too agitated for questioning it to be prudent.

Virgil took a deep breath. "Okay, sorry about that. So, back to Jason?"

"Oh, right. Jason. Um, the only other thing of note that we have found at this point are fibers from a 1950s Volkswagen Beetle."

"That's gonna help a ton, as well. Vincent, you are my hero!" Virgil scooped him up into a big hug before leaving the morgue, leaving Vincent speechless for the first time in his life.

Virgil ran back up to his desk, furiously typing in his password. It took him three tries to correctly enter the number into the San Francisco Public Library website's search bar. He eventually got it, and there it was. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie. And two copies were available. The library didn't open until 12 pm the next day, however, so he went home after setting an alarm on his phone and sending a quick text to Patton.

9:52 [To:Patton]- Hey, wanna get dinner tomorrow night?

He was ecstatic to see a message from them when he got home.

9:55 [Patton]- Absolutely! You got the problem worked out? :D

10:10 [Virgil <3]- I found the solution, and will get it resolved by the end of the week. I'll pick you up on Friday at 7? We'll take a walk in the park and then House of Prime Rib, on me?

[Patton]- Are we celebrating something? Or are you trying to tell me you want to be my sugar daddy? ;P

[Virgil <3]- Trust me, Pat, if I had sugar daddy money, I'd love nothing more than to spoil you rotten. But nah, it's a combination of a small celebration and an apology for being unavailable today and for the next few days until Friday. (and i may or may not be buttering you up in hopes you'll share what's bringing you down)

[Patton]- Aww, you're so sweet! <3 (Can I call you daddy anyway?)

[Virgil <3]- Only if you want to be rewarded, baby. ;)

[Patton]- I'll be a good boy for you, daddy, I promise. 

Virgil noted their preferred appellation and responded in kind with a wicked smile.

--------

The next morning, Virgil woke up half an hour before his alarm was set to go off, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. I'm finally going to get this guy.

Figuring there was no point in just waiting around, he got ready and went right to work. He knew Captain Sanders would want a breakdown of the previous night's findings before he could start following the leads he had gotten from Vincent the previous night.

He got to the station and immediately started looking into Jason Dean and the possible claim that he was a murderer. It didn't take him long to find that three Mission High students committed suicide 2 months prior named Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Virgil tracked down the police reports for the deaths. By all accounts, they appeared to be through-and-through suicides. If Jason did kill them, the killer would need to be quite close to either one of the victims or Jason himself. Linking the suicides would imply that he's close to all of them. Maybe through school? Science classes are more than likely to have liquid nitrogen and hydrochloric acid. Any teacher would have access, but I'll look more into science teachers in particular. He's displayed some anatomical knowledge as well. 

Captain Sanders walked into the precinct, calling for Virgil to follow him into his office.

"So, what do you have?" he asked, after they'd arrived and shut the door.

"The note is a book cipher based on Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The library has a copy of the specific edition I need to crack it, so I'm going to pick that up at noon, as soon as the library opens. Looking into the 'murderer' thing, there were three suicides at Mission High 5 months ago, whose names match the three not-coded words in the note- Heather, Kurt, and Ram. If they were murdered by Jason, that means the killer is close to one of them, most likely Jason himself. I think that's what the killer is alluding to in the note, but we'll see once I've decoded it. Add in the liquid nitrogen, and it points to a teacher, likely a science teacher. So I'm going to crack the code and look for other insights into him and look into Mission High science teachers. I have an updated profile, and I'll email that to you right away."

"That sounds wonderful, Mason. You've been doing excellent work; we're glad to have you."

Virgil shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I'm just doing my best, sir. If you'll excuse me, the library is about to open, and I'd like to get the book as soon as possible."

"Sounds great to me! Just send me that profile before you go."

"Will do, sir. Thank you." Virgil turned and left the room, hurrying to his computer before rushing to the library.

--

A short while later, he was back at his desk with a battered copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. It wasn't difficult to decode the message, but it did take a bit of time and a lot of counting and re-counting. Word by word, the message became clear: He killed Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Find the weapon; I know he had it. It is your evidence.

Virgil sat back in his chair once he'd finished, puzzled by what the note revealed that he hadn't already deduced. 'He' has to be referring to Jason. He knew we'd find out the reasons for him choosing the previous victims, but he needed to be sure we'd know why he thinks Jason deserved to die. I looked at the police reports for those deaths; the gun used to kill Ram and Sweeney was recovered on-site and is in police custody. He's obsessed with his mission, though. He wouldn't make this claim if he wasn't sure. I'll look into that once we've caught our killer. For my peace of mind, at least. Virgil cracked his knuckles and picked up his phone.

"Roman Prince, SFGate, how can I help you?"

"Roman, it's Detective Mason. Can you come down to the station right away?" The responding scream was so loud, Virgil had to move his phone away from his ear. "I'll take that as a yes?"

"Absolutely, Detective. I will be there as soon as physically possible."

"Don't break any traffic l-" The line went dead, cutting Virgil off.

--

Far sooner than could have been legal, Roman skidded to a stop in front of Virgil's desk.

"HelloVirgildidyoucrackthecode?DoIgettowritearesponse?CanI-"

"BREATHE, Roman." Virgil stood, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Yes, I cracked the code. Yes, you will publish a response tonight. But I'm writing it. I assume your laptop is in your bag?" Roman simply nodded- he knew that if he tried to speak, he'd start rambling again. "Fantastic. Let's get going."

45 minutes (and one call from Captain Sanders to Dan Humphrey about how not allowing it to be posted immediately would be obstruction of justice) later, a new post was live on SFGate's website. It was 4:02 pm, two hours before the deadline.

An Open Letter to U N Owen

It was a pleasure hearing from you. While I obviously cannot condone your methods, you are correct that our justice system is imperfect, and those imperfections need addressing. You gave me quite a puzzle, and I enjoyed solving it. It was clever, but not clever enough. I hope you'll forgive me for not following your directions; please let me know if this is inadequate.

Vq rwv kv dnwpvna, aqw'tg ytqpi. Jg fqgup'v jcxg kv, yg fq. Yg'xg jcf kv htqo vjg xgta dgikppkpi. Dwv aqw cntgcfa mpqy vjcv. Aqw'tg hct vqq engxgt vq jcxg pqv mpqyp vjcv. Wpnguu K'o qxgtguvkocvkpi aqw, yjkej ku c fghkpkvg rquukdknkva. Aqwt qvjgt cuugtvkqp jcu dggp pqvgf, cpf K uygct vq aqw vjcv K yknn rwtuwg vjcv qpeg yg ugvvng vjku ocvvgt dgvyggp wu.

Hqt pqy, vjqwij, aqw ujqwnf mpqy vjcv aqw'xg iqvvgp unqrra, cpf vjcv kv'u qpna c ocvvgt qh vkog dghqtg K hkpf aqw cpf tgrca aqw kp vjg ngicn hqto qh vjg eqkp aqw icxg vjgo. Aqw yknn (ogvcrjqtkecnna) jcpi hqt vjku.

Sincerely,

Det. Mason Poirot II

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

Logan refreshed SFGate.com for the thirteenth time that day and was finally rewarded for his tenacity; the post was less than five minutes old. He read it twice, rage simmering in his chest and a smile on his face. "Detective Mason," he said to his empty apartment, "a worthy adversary indeed. The game is on."

[hymn2000]

Father’s Day Pride - MCU AU mini-fic

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson AU. 

Father’s Day is coming up, and Peter is stuck on what to get Tony and Loki. 

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, father’s day, LGBT+ themes, over-protective Tony, (Loki is mentioned but isn’t actually in this)

Word count: 4101

You can also find me on AO3

-

Peter was exhausted. He’d been trawling around for hours, looking in shop after shop, venturing into parts of town he’d never been before, feeling lost and tired. Father’s day was coming up, and he was stuck. His friends hadn’t been much help at all. They all came from nuclear families, and their suggestions were; ‘anything with Number One Dad written on it’, and ‘just get them something they like’. Malaki had been especially unhelpful, because he said he never got his father anything for father’s day, and he said Peter shouldn’t bother, because what exactly did he suppose he could get for a billionaire who had everything they could possibly want already, to which Peter had poured a cup of water over his head and stalked off. 

Peter stopped outside a shop. It was a bookshop, but not one he remembered seeing before. It had rainbow flags flying outside, and he could tell by the displays in the window that he was exactly the target market. It looked old, and dusty, but it looked like it was open. He paused, and then pushed the door open. The bell above the door rang as he did so. He let the door close behind him. It felt empty, like he was the only person there. The shop smelt of old books and coffee. It was a funny place, with books in higgledy-piggledy piles on tables beside shelves, and old gay posters blu-tacked to the walls. There wasn’t just books: there was gifts and nick-nacks and bits and bobs all over the place. He could hear the whirring of an industrial coffee machine coming from above him. 

“Hey kid, you ok there?”

Peter jumped violently. He hadn’t noticed the older man behind the desk, watching him.

“Oh, um...”

“You look thirsty, and tired” the man said. “Stairs to the coffee shop are over there, just past the blue shelf”

“Oh, thank you”

Peter found the stairs and went up to the coffee shop, mostly because it was less awkward than trying to explain he wasn’t there for coffee, or just leaving. The upstairs coffee shop was much more modern looking and sleek, although quite interestingly decorated. There were a handful of people up there, and a couple of people behind the counter. One was an incredibly fierce looking drag queen, who waved her manicured nails at him when he appeared.

“Hey baby, you lost, sweetie?” 

“No, um, I just- uh..”

She laughed at him. “What can I get you, honey?”

“Um...” Peter approached the counter, too nervous of the drag queen to focus properly on the menu. “C-can I get a cappuccino please?”

“Sure thing, honey” She nodded at her colleague, and leant against the counter while they were making the drink. “You’re tiny, aren’t you? How old are you, baby?”

“I- uh, I’m fifteen. How old are you?”

The drag queen laughed. “A lady never tells. $2.50, please”

“Oh yeah, sorry” Peter handed over the money.

“Take a seat, baby; we’ll bring it over”

Peter was grateful for the excuse to leave the counter. He took an empty table over by the window, so he could people-watch. The drag queen soon brought his drink over, and he was surprised when she sat down opposite him. 

“What brings you here, baby? You’re looking tired. Fall out with the parents?”

“What?”

“Have they only just found out, is that it?”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that!” Peter said defensively. “I just kinda stumbled across this place. I’ve been out - out in town, I mean - for a while. And out in the other way as well, kinda, but, well. I- Uh. I didn’t know this place was here until just now. I’ve been looking in loads of shops today”

“Retail therapy?”

“Not really. I’m trying to find something for father’s day, but... Well, I’m a bit stuck. I can’t really do the whole generic Number One Dad mug thing, because I’ve got two dads”

“Aww baby. Tell me about them: maybe I can help”

Peter pressed his lips together.

“What’s up? Stranger danger?” she smiled a big lipsticky smile. Peter wasn’t sure if she was teasing him or not. “Most people call me Auntie. I’ve been a barista right out of high school, I work here during the day three days a week, and I work at some local bars as a performer two or three nights a week, depending on how in demand I am. I’ve been doing drag for about fifteen years now. There, now you know me, so you don’t have to be scared. So what’s your name, baby?”

“Peter”

“Peter what?”

“Peter... Parker. Parker-Stark”

Auntie’s eyes widened for a moment. “Ah, I thought you looked familiar! So you’re Tony Stark’s kid?”

Peter nodded. 

“So, daddies a mechanic, and other daddy is a nurse. Shame you’re not one of them; I’d be better able to help that way”

Peter wrinkled his nose at her suggestive comment. She laughed.

“Aw baby, you can’t expect people not to have inappropriate thoughts about an ex-playboy and someone as pretty as Loki Stark”

“Ok, but you don’t have to make it known” Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Auntie grinned. “Sorry, baby. So, Father’s day. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been real basic in the past, just cards, and chocolate for daddy Loki, and coffee for other daddy”

“Oh, so it’s ‘Daddy’ is it?”

Peter felt the blood rush to his face. “What? I’m adorable! Leave me alone”

Auntie laughed, pushing his coffee closer towards him. “Have your milk, baby”

Peter scowled, but he picked up his mug and took a mouthful anyway. He looked at Auntie over the rim of his mug. She was incredibly well made up, with perfectly teased strawberry blonde hair (definitely a wig, Peter thought), bright red lipstick, and gold eye shadow. She had fierce eyeliner wings, and her tight dress showed an awful lot of fake cleavage.

“My eyes are up here, honey” Auntie said, seeing him looking at her chest.

“Sorry. How do you make it look so real?”

“They’re flesh tone silicone, and you just use make up to get it to blend in. Add in a good bra, and you’re set to go” she leant closer to him. “Thinking of getting involved?”

Peter shook his head. “It’s not my sort of thing. I- uh, I don’t think I’d be any good at it”

“I don’t know, I think you could make a cute girly drag queen. I can imagine you with a bow in your hair, winged eyeliner, bit of blusher, pink lipstick, cute little dungaree dress - worn off the shoulder, of course”

Peter giggled. “I’m not sure about that”

“Hey, dungarees are cute! I bet you could rock them even without the slap. Doesn’t have to be a dress; you could get ordinary ones. Long trousers, maybe black denim? Or light blue”

“I’ll think about it” 

Auntie smiled. “So, what do we get for the Stark daddies for father’s day?”

Peter shrugged. “I’ve got no idea. I asked some friends, but they were useless. I looked at a load of Buzzfeed posts, but they’re all things for stereotypical dad’s. I don’t think mine would appreciate beer making kits and beard grooming sets”

“Really?”

“Well, daddy kinda has a very specific brand he uses, and a specific supplier, and I’ve never even seen other daddy with so much as stubble” 

“Hmm. How about just being a bit basic and giving them something with a personal touch?”

“Personal how?”

“Well, there’s lots of things. Hmm. Ah, have you got your phone with you?”

Peter unlocked it and handed it over. Auntie took it, flicking to the next screen. She paused.

“Wait, before I click on your camera roll, there’s no nudes on here, is there?”

Peter blushed furiously. “No, of course not!”

“Hey, I just want to be safe” Auntie shrugged, clicking on his camera roll and flicking through some of the photos. “You’ve got some pretty cute pictures on here. I’m guessing your friends took some of these?”

Peter nodded. “Flo likes taking photos of me. She’s good at candid shots”

“How about getting one of these framed or printed onto a canvas for them?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to get them something special”

“That is special. Your parents love you, right?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“But what? Baby, they love you, and they’d love this, believe me”

Peter still wasn’t sure. “But what if they’re expecting something really cool and they open it and it’s just a picture of me?”

“I’d be happy with a framed photo from my kids for father’s day”

“You’ve got kids?!”

“Don’t sound so shocked!” Auntie laughed. “I’ve got three!”

“Wow. But aren’t you gay?”

“Aren’t you?” she shot back.

“I’m... I like both”

“So do I. But men are better” Auntie smiled at him. “I’ve got a daughter who’s a couple of years older than you, and I’ve got the twins. They’re seven”

“Oh right. Are they adopted?”

“No. My daughter is from a previous relationship, and me and the husband had the twins through IVF with a surrogate”

“Oh! So, are you dad to them, or are you mum?”

“I’m dad. The drag is just an act, baby. I’m not always this gorgeous” she winked. “I’m Auntie at work, and I’m plain old Arthur at home”

“Huh” Peter blinked. “So...”

“You’ve got some cute pictures on here. Choose one, get it printed, get it framed, put it in a nice little box or wrap it up nicely. Your parents will love it” she handed Peter his phone back. “Drink your coffee, baby. I’ll find out where the nearest place that does instant print photo’s is”

“Auntie?” Peter said when she stood up. “Thank you”

Auntie reached out and ruffled the boys hair. “No problem, honey”

-

Auntie gave Peter a little hug and sent him on his way the an address scribbled on a post-it note.

“Drop by again some time” she told him. Peter rather thought he would.

-

Peter tried to think of what kind of photo he should print as he walked to the shop Auntie had recommended. He knew he had a lot of photos on his phone, but a lot of the ones of himself were selfies. Well, Flo stole his phone a lot to take pictures of him, and they were usually pretty good. Maybe those would be better.

Once he reached the shop, he unlocked his phone, and saw that Auntie had left a photo up on the screen. Peter remembered the day it was taken. It wasn’t something that he really wanted his parents to know about. 

Armed with special new waterproof cases for their phones, Flo and Peter had snuck into the swimming pool at home fully clothed. It hadn’t gone exactly according to plan. They’d thought that, because there were so many ledges and walkways with either very shallow or no water at all, they’d be able to get through to the fairy cove without getting too wet. They were wrong. They both ended up in water up to their knees very quickly. Fortunately Peter was wearing shorts, and Flo could hold her dress up and keep her clothes mostly dry. However, after they’d been in the fairy cove for a good half an hour, they’d both slipped and ended up falling into the pool and getting soaked through. Still, at least they’d managed to take some decent photos before that happened, which had been their original goal. 

That was where the photo Auntie had left on the screen was from. Peter couldn’t help worrying that he’d get into trouble if his parents found out he’d gone into the pool fully-clothed, but he supposed they hadn’t actually done any harm by doing so. Besides, it was a good photo. Part of the pool could be seen in the photo, with its soft glowing lights adding a nice touch. The funny glowing lights from the little cubby holes in the fairy cove gave the photo a funny hue, mostly pink, but with a more green hue on one side. Peter could almost hear the rush of the water and the sounds of the harp-and-xylophone music as he looked at the photo. He was dressed simply, just in black denim shorts and a white tank top. He was leaning against the rocky wall, looking off over to the other side of the pool, sat with one leg straight and the other bent up, his hands wrapped round his knee. The lights were shining in his eyes, and he looked calm, and happy. Peter had been happy with this photo at the time. It had looked almost ethereal, like he was in a different world entirely. 

Peter plugged his phone into the photo machine, and brought that photo up on the screen, having a proper look at it. It still looked good on a decent sized screen. He wasn’t sure what size to get, and he hadn’t decided if he was going to get a canvas or just a print to frame, but he was glad of the self serve photo machine, as it meant he could take his time - and he didn’t have to try to talk to anyone. Eventually he chose the 8x12 print, deciding it was better to get something that would be ready almost instantly, rather than have to hang about waiting for a canvas. He slipped the print into the paper wallet provided, unplugged his phone, and stepped aside. 

Mercifully, the shop also sold frames. After a lot of looking around and thinking, Peter purchased a thick black glittery frame, deciding it would offset the picture well. He wasn’t sure where he’d find a box to fit it, but he was sure he’d passed a card shop before getting here, and they’d certainly have some appropriate wrapping paper. He just had to do that, maybe revert to type and also buy chocolates for Loki and artisan coffee for Tony, and then that would be father’s day sorted.

-

Peter’s phone rang. Peter slipped his shopping bag onto his wrist, and took his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing in the dodgy end of town, young man?”

“Dad? Um-”

“I’m coming to pick you up right now. Go down to the Starbucks on the corner and stay there until I arrive” Tony said.

“Wait, are you tracking my location?!”

“Yes. Well, technically, FRIDAY is. Now do as you’re told. I’ll be there in three minutes”

Tony hung up. Peter sighed, and walked the few steps to the Starbucks, leaning against the wall. Tony’s car soon came into view, the window winding down as it stopped at the side of the road.

“Get in”

Peter did as he was told. He put his bag in the foot-well, careful not to reveal its contents. Tony drove off again as soon as Peter had put his belt on.

“Do you not pay attention to the news? Three kids around your age were stabbed here just two weeks ago, and that girl was kidnapped. You had no business coming anywhere near here. What on Earth did you think you were doing?”

“Dad, I wasn’t in any danger! And anyway, even if I was, it’s not like I’m just any other kid. I’m Spiderman!”

“Yes, but before that, you’re Peter Parker-Stark: my son. And I don’t want you anywhere where you can get into trouble, especially unprepared. You might be a good little neighbourhood Spiderboy, but how do you think you’d fare if the same thing happened to you as happened to that poor girl? You know they stuck her in the neck with a needle to knock her out before they took her? You know, you might whine about me keeping tabs on you, but if that girl hadn’t had that tracking app on her phone and Fitbit, they might not have found her”

“Dad, please, for Gods sake! You sound like Doctor Shefska on daddy’s ward, spouting scare stories like that”

“Hey, don’t you dare get cheeky with me!” Tony snapped, slapping the boys leg sharply. “I’ve told you time and time again not to go any further than the big library by the arch when you’re alone, and you disobeyed me anyway. This isn’t the first time you’ve done it, either. You’re on your final warning, young man. Go any further than the library again, and you’ll be grounded for a month - and that includes patrols”

“What?! Dad! Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?”

“Uh, you and that attitude are going to earn you a spanking, Mister” Tony said. “Stop being cheeky and trying to downplay this. You know I worry about you, and you know I give you boundaries for you own good; for your own safety. When FRIDAY alerted me to where you were, the first thing that went through my head was; ‘oh god what if he’s hurt?’, and considering recent events, it was a very real possibility. You’re not indestructible”

Peter sighed. “I know”

“What were you doing around there anyway?”

Peter shrugged. “Just walking, I guess”

“That’s not a good enough excuse” Tony shook his head, sighing. “Like I said; you’re on your last warning. We’ll just leave it at that for now... Did you talk to any strangers?”

“Dad, I’ve got selective mutism, remember?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t always apply with customer service staff, and we both know that strange little quirk”

Peter just raised an eyebrow at him and stayed quiet.

“What’s in your bag?”

“None of your business”

“Peter! How many times do I have to tell you not to be so cheeky?!” 

“Sorry...”

“What is it, then? Is it something naughty? Is it drugs?”

“What?! No! Of course it’s not drugs! What do you take me for?!”

“Your defensiveness isn’t exactly reassuring”

“Look, I’m not an idiot: I wouldn’t take anything illegal or harmful. I was against it all even before Macy showed me Trainspotting and scarred me for life”

“Hm, I’m still not happy about that” Tony grumbled. “That girl’s a right little madam. How did she manage to get hold of it, anyway? It’s an 18!”

“She’s said her cousin sent it to her” 

“I see. Must run in the family, then. You never should’ve watched it, even if you weren’t poorly”

Peter scowled at him. “Is that why you treat me like a baby all the time?”

“I’ve treated you like a baby for way longer than you’ve been ill for” Tony said. “I treat you like a baby because you are a baby, as much as you like to think otherwise”

Peter rolled his eyes, and looked out of the window.

Tony sighed again. “Let’s just get you home. Your father is gonna get home before us at this rate”

“He was at the hospital today?”

“Yeah, last minute meeting of some sort. Whatever”

“Are you gonna tell him about today?”

Tony went quiet for a moment. “Not this time. Let’s keep it between us. Just this once”

-

As per Tony’s prediction, Loki got home first. He wasn’t in a good mood. Ordinarily, Peter would have minded, but today it meant he could escape and sort the father’s day presents uninterrupted while his parents were talking. He was as careful and neat as possible while he wrapped up the coffee and chocolates. He put the print of himself in the frame, making sure it was lined up properly, and took extra care wrapping it, fixing a ribbon diagonally over the bottom right corner. He still wasn’t entirely sure about gifting a photo of himself, but he supposed he’d just have to wait and see if Auntie’s judgement had been trustworthy or not. He hoped it would pay off. 

-

A few days after Father’s day, Peter broke the rules again and ventured back into the bad area of town. He found the gay bookshop again, and pushed the door open. He knew there would be someone behind the counter this time, so he didn’t jump when they spoke.

“Hey kid”

“Hey...” Peter swallowed hard, and approached the counter. “Is- is Auntie working today?”

“Yeah, head on up: she should be on the counter”

Peter nodded his thanks, passed by the blue bookshelf, and went upstairs. He found he was pleased to see Auntie. She looked different today. She had the same hair, but she had black lipstick and smokey eye shadow, and she was wearing a tight low-cut jumper and leather skirt. She was serving a table when he walked in, so Peter could see her killer stiletto boots too.

“Hey, it’s baby Stark!” she said when she spotted him, and gave him a hug.

Peter was surprised, but hugged her back. She smelt good; of powder and expensive perfume. She held him at arms length.

“Have you come back just to see old Auntie, baby?”

Peter nodded. “Kind of. I can’t stay long though; I’ll get into awful trouble if dad finds out I’m here”

“Oh, is that so?” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“It’s not what you think! He just worries about me being in this part of town”

“Well, I can’t blame him” she said, and sat down at a nearby table. “Come here, honey”

Peter sat down beside her, and Auntie pulled his chair closer. 

“How did father’s day go?”

“Oh! You remembered!”

Auntie smiled. “Of course. I asked you to come back, remember?”

Peter nodded. “Yep! And I nodded, didn’t I?”

“I was hoping to see you tarted up. Have you tried out dungarees yet?”

Peter giggled. “Not yet. No, I dropped by, just to say thank you again. You were right; they loved the photo. I used the one you left up on my phone”

“Show me again?”

Peter got out his phone and showed her the photo. She nodded.

“Good, I chose well! I knew they’d like it. I’m never wrong, you know”

“I know now” Peter smiled. “I got a nice frame for it, all black glitter. They moved some stuff around and put it in the centre of the mantelpiece in the main living room. I’m was kinda nervous giving it to them, so it’s good it’s appreciated, y’know?”

“I told you it’d go down well, honey. It’s a cool photo” Auntie said. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Well... I’d really better not. I’ll try to come back for longer some other time, but I can’t really today”

“Aw honey, you’re a bit of a daddy’s boy, aren’t you? Don’t try to deny it; even the tabloid photos are proof enough” she took his hand and kissed it. “Look up the shop on Instagram when you get home. You can find my page through it, and maybe I’ll end up doing a gig near you some time, and you can come along”

“Ok, but I’m too young for clubs”

“But you’re not too young for cafe-bars. Get your parents to go along. Maybe Mr Playboy will let you hang about the bookshop if he knows old Auntie is here to keep an eye on you”

Peter smiled nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’ll give it a go anyway. I- well, aside from obviously being in a big gay household, I don’t really get to talk to many other people like me, and it’s kinda nice doing that”

“Honey, you enter a whole other world when you find more people like you. You’re young, and most people have to wait until they can go to gay clubs. You’re lucky to have places like this about. You’ll meet people if you go to them. You know it’s healthy to do so”

Peter nodded. “I know. Maybe I’ll guilt trip daddy that way”

Auntie laughed. “You’re a caution, baby”

Peter’s phone started ringing before he could reply.

“Is that daddy-Playboy?”

Peter looked at his phone, and nodded. He answered the call.

“I know where you are!” Tony said. “Don’t you dare leave that shop; I’ll be there to get you in five minutes. You are so totally grounded!”

Peter grimaced, glancing at Auntie. “I’ll stay put”

“You’d better! We’re gonna have a falling out one of these days, young man! See you in a minute”

“See you in a minute”

Peter ended the call, and sighed heavily. Auntie squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t go looking so worried, baby” she said. “I’ll talk him round the moment he arrives”

Peter couldn’t help but grin. Maybe this fierce drag queen could mellow out his over-protective father. He certainly hoped so.

*

[words-for-glory]

Tea, Aspirin, and a Knight in Shining Armor

You’d been looking forward to this night for far too long, having purchased the tickets for this gig almost 6 months in advance. It was going to be a small, intimate gig for one of your favorite bands, childcare. Your heart was racing from excitement as you stood outside the venue, ticket in hand. There were only a few minutes until doors and you wanted to get a good place inside.

“Hey, uh - excuse me, sorry, have you seen a guy, slightly taller than me, beard, and probably a shirt with cats on it?” A tall, dark haired man with brilliant blue eyes asks you, slightly fidgeting uncomfortably. “I was supposed to meet him here but I don’t see him anywhere in the queue.” He motions to the line behind you.

Biting your lip, scouring your memory for this mysterious missing man, you shake your head. “No I- I don’t think so, sorry...” you say, feeling slightly bad for being unhelpful.

“Fuck, it’s alright though, thanks anyways,” he says, running a hand through this dark hair. A slight smirk graces his lips. “I suppose this is what I get for being late to everything all the time.” The way his laugh intertwines with his words makes something in your stomach flutter. He was very....adorable.

You smile softly up at him, noticing the dimples on his freckled cheeks. A moment of silence passes and he’s still standing in front of you. “I’m Dan by the way,” he interjects, offering a hand. You take it, shaking it quickly before offering your own name.

Suddenly, the line ahead of you starts moving quickly toward the entrance.... looks like you were too busy with Dan to notice that it was now doors. “Well, looks like we got to go... enjoy the gig!” You say turning on your heel and giving him a small wave over your shoulder. Sure this stranger was cute and charming, but you cared about the gig way more.

—

A few songs into the set, you notice a slightly familiar face in the corner of your eye. Tall? Dark, messy hair? Blue eyes behind tortoise shell glasses? Must be Dan surely enough. You tear your eyes away from the stage for a moment, just long enough to look to your left and confirm that it is Dan standing a person away from you. Some part deep inside you wants to go over to him and wonders if he’s thinking the same thing about you.

You’re snapped out of your reverie by the ending of the song, and a flaring of the stage lights. You had an incredible view, practically first row, which was way more incredible than you ever could’ve imagined. It was easy to lose yourself in the upbeat songs that you’ve scream-sang along to so many times.

Suddenly, someone’s shoulder collides into yours and you’re pushed to floor, more bodies shove against you and your head hits the hard ground. Dozens of pairs of feet start to fill your vision. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, a large hand with slender fingers reaches down to help you up. You gratefully take the hand, not realizing who it belonged to.

Head spinning, you unconsciously put and arm onto the person who just helped you up to strady yourself.

“Are you alright?” The person shouts over the loud music. You knew that voice. Of course you had to fall and get nearly trampled right in front of Dan. He places a hand on your waist to steady you.

“My head...” you mumble, touching a hand to your forehead gently. The immediate pain told you that was not the best idea. A throbbing pain began from the base of your skull and continued all the way to right behind your eyes.

“Come on let’s get you out of here,” Dan says, quieter than before. He keeps a hand on your waist as he leads the two of you to the entrance of the venue. Every step you take seems to cause another place on your head to hurt, and by the time you make it to the doors, your eyes are squeezed shut.

A warm hand brushes some hair away from your face and you flinch away, the slightest bit of touch being unbearable. “Shit that doesn’t look good. I should call an ambulance, head injuries are really serious,” Dan says all too quickly, fishing through his pockets for his phone. Your hand shoots out to stop him.

“No! No, really it’s probably not that serious,” You refute. Not to mention, you would not be able afford those kind of medical bills. Despite the pain still being pretty bad, it was not worth a hospital trip.

Dan, looking very unimpressed with your argument, pulls out his phone anyway and unlocks it. He pauses before dialing to give you a hard, and serious look, his blue eyes turning icy and cold. “It is serious, you could have a concussion or who knows what!”

You place a hand on his shoulder- partly to keep yourself upright- and stare up at him. “I’m begging you, please don’t call. I’ll be fine, okay?” He stares back at you intensely, a moment of electricity charged silence passing. You breathe a sigh of relief when he finally puts his phone back into the pocket of his denim jacket.

“Okay, but I’m not just gonna let you out on the streets of London alone like this.” Dan takes your hand off of his shoulder and takes it in his. “How bout you come to my flat and you could have a cup of tea and probably some much needed painkillers?”

Your heart flutters, and you force yourself to break eye contact for a brief moment to have a chance of thinking clearly about this situation. Going to a person you just met barely an hour ago’s flat? Sure, he was cute, and very kind… Dan did have a point, you were certainly in no state whatsoever to somehow make it back to yours on your own. A cup of tea did sound good. You squeeze his hand and look back at him.

“Okay, you’re right. Thank you,” You say, nodding sheepishly.

Dan’s eyes light up, pleased that you agreed to let him help you. “Great. I don’t live to far from here- it’s just about a five minute walk.”

What did you get yourself into?

---

Dan’s flat was not really what you expected, if you’re being completely honest. Although you’re not quite sure what it was that you were expecting. It was clear that he had roommates, two at the very least. Not to mention the random tree stump that was next to a coffee table. But nevertheless, the flat seemed to match Dan, it was homey and… endearing.

You were currently sat on a sofa, while Dan was boiling water for tea. He had given you some aspirin before disappearing into the kitchen, which you were eternally grateful for. Sitting further back into the couch, and trying to ignore the persisting pain, you close your eyes. Since when were you tired? Or do the lights just hurt your eyes too much? Regardless of reason, you had somehow become very cozy on this semi-stranger’s couch.

“You okay there?” You hear Dan shout from the kitchen. You internally roll your eyes.

“Mate,” You laugh. “I’m fine! Well as fine as I could be.” You open your eyes, and catch Dan walking toward you, a cup of tea in each hand.

“Just making sure, I wouldn’t want you to faint on my watch,” He chuckles, handing you one of the cups. The familiar warmth seeps into your hands as you gratefully take it from him. He smiles at you, a crooked front tooth peeking out. What a guy. He takes a seat across from you on the tree stump. So that’s why that’s there? You try and fail to hide your giggle behind the mug.

His features change, and he pushes up the sleeves of his shirt. “What’s so funny? Or have you gone hysterical from hitting your head?” He says, trying to hide his insecurity.

“Well first of all, why do you have a random tree stump in your living room? And second of all, I don’t know… You’re cute.” Feeling the tips of your cheeks redden, you smile down into your cup.

“Now you are delusional. Maybe I should’ve taken you to the hospital, after all.” He laughs again, then clears his throat. “Speaking of, how’s your head?”

“Still hurts, but hopefully the painkillers will kick in soon.” You sip on your tea. “Thank you for saving me back there, I probably would’ve been trampled. Sorry you had to miss out on the rest of the gig though,” You say, feeling slightly bad that this man has been so kind and generous to you, and you don’t really have anything to offer in return.

“Oh it’s no problem really, I’ve seen them plenty of times. I’ve actually seen way too much of them, especially Ed, really.” Dan shifts on the log.

“How do you mean?” You ask, utterly confused.

“I’m kinda his roomate.”

You choke on your tea. “W-what?” It’s safe to say you weren’t expecting that. Setting down the cup, you rub your hands on your jeans, unsure of what to do with them.

“Yeah,” He laughs. “I live with him and two other mates of mine. They’re all at the gig right now,” He adds, nodding. There’s a moment of awkward silence before either of you speak again.

“You never answered my question.” You look back at Dan, who raises his gaze to yours. He gestures for you to continue. “Why the fuck do you have that log?” You can’t help but giggle, of all the ways you thought tonight would end up, it was definitely not including this conversation.

He looks you straight in the eyes and says “Well, the thing is… this log… it’s kinda my wife. We’re married,” He deadpans.

You raise an eyebrow. “I take it you’re a fan of Twin Peaks.” He eagerly nods.

“It’s only the best television show out there,” He says, so excitedly that his voice goes high and raspy at the end.

“So that would make you what... the Log Man?” You can’t help but burst out into laughter, this was an interesting conversation. “Ow, okay, I’ve just discovered it hurts to laugh,” You say, tenderly touching your head.

“That’s a shame, because you have beautiful laugh,” Dan says tenderly, standing up and moving over to be next to you on the sofa. The sudden close proximity and his comment have you blushing again. Dan places a gentle hand on your chin, and guides your face to look at his. His gaze is concerned and calculating. “That’s definitely bruising,” Referring to the bump on your head. A moment passes between you, and your gaze drops to Dan’s lips. You want to kiss him. But before you can, he releases your chin and pops up. “You know, I’ll go get you some ice to put on that.”

Your lips part, as if to say something, or to stop him but nothing comes out. He returns, not a minute later with a bunch of ice wrapped up in a towel. You take it from him, and gingerly place it on your forehead. “Um, thanks.” You expect him to sit across from you on the log again, but he instead sits next to you, his thigh touching yours.

Dan suggests maybe watching a movie or some tv and you choose the latter. Predictably, he chooses Twin Peaks, which you had both seen multiple times. Conversation starts, first about the odd television show, and then drifting to deeper topics, the show becoming the soundtrack for your dialogue. You find out some of his history, and you even suspect he’s told you things he’s never said out loud. You’re honored. You reciprocate, telling him about your life and your hobbies. If you weren’t falling for him before, you definitely were now. You couldn’t help but admire the way his features relax with contentment when he talks about writing songs (he’s in a band), and the way he can’t wipe that stupid smile off his face when he talks about something he loves. And his eyes and his mouth and that crooked tooth and well, everything.

The show pauses and the abrupt silencing of your soundtrack stopped your conversation. The screen read “Are you still watching Twin Peaks?” And you realized that it’s probably gotten very late.

“I should probably get going,” you say reluctantly, looking for your coat. The pain from your head has finally reduced to a dull ache and you hadn’t shown any signs of a concussion.

Dan stands up, making way for you to put on your coat. “I had a really nice time talking to you, y/n,” Dan says sincerely.

“Me too-“ you walk toward the door slowly, not wanting to leave. “-thank you again for saving me and making sure I was alright.” You go in for a hug, reaching up onto your tip toes to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands linger on your waist as you pull away and you miss his warmth.

“It was my pleasure, and thanks for the company.” He releases you from the embrace and shoves his hands into his pockets.

Standing in the doorway, you smile at him, unsure of what to do in this slightly awkward situation.

“I’m so grateful for tonight, is there anything i can offer you in return?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Your number?” Dan says, smirking.

All you can do it smile back at him.

[magic-magpie]

Forever Yours, Prompto

Sheesh, I haven’t been on in a while. I just haven’t had the motivation to write or anything, and so I kinda stopped going on Tumblr ‘cause then I’d feel bad for not writing. Not that I need to write, but I want to. But I’ve finally written something! I’ve gotten hella into FFXV, and Promptis has become my favourite ship of the series (I guess that was to be expected... the character dynamics are strikingly similar to my OTP of all time). I just love they way they interact and the brilliant, wholesome friendship they share! And yes, I do wish they’d be more than friends. Idk, I just feel like they’d be a really awesome couple. I’m not past Chapter Eight yet, though. But anyway, have this little Promptis fanfic I wrote! It’s an idea I’ve wanted to do for so long, but I’ve only just now been able to execute it. First time writing for FFXV, so my characterisation’s probably not perfect. Prompto’s incredibly similar to America from Hetalia though, and I write America frequently enough, so hopefully the characterisation works! Words - 1,883 Also, imagine the strikethrough stuff to be like actual scribble-outs.

Dear Noctis To Noctis Hey Noctis Hey Noct,

Okay, so, um, I’m writing this in the dead of the night outside of the tent using my torch ‘cause why not, eh? I mean, I don’t WANT to write out here (it’s cold and dark and SHIT I THINK A SPIDER CRAWLED ONTO MY ROCK FUCKING SHIT I JUST MOVED TO A TREE STUMP HOLY SHIT IF I WOKE ANY OF YOU GUYS UP I’M SORRY OKAY NOW WHERE WAS I) but writing out here where none of you know I’m writing is kinda safer, don’t ya think? (haha that transition tho) If I was writing some poetry or story or whatever I wouldn’t have to hide it so much, but it’s... not that. D’ya remember when we DID do that kinda stuff, back in high school? We’d make up lame-ass stories on the rooftop at lunchtime, trying to make weirder and weirder ones. I remember, my favourite was the one about the boy named Alaric Wrye who was actually a wolf in disguise and would sneak out every full moon to howl at the night but then his parents found out and so he was sent to the Wolf Institution to become a fully-fledged wolf and had to take a whole load of wolf tests and shit and then when he finally became a wolf he was crowned King of the Wolves and everyone had to bow down to him and – 

I kinda just realised how WEIRD that story is.

I think your favourite was the one about the small ant who wanted to be a super-duper famous singer so he made a rock band and started playing in gardens and stuff but then he grew enough of a following to start doing world tours and basically this small ant band was like hella famous in the human world but because none of the humans could see him properly ‘cause he’s tiny he took drugs to make himself massive but the drugs kinda killed him so he died as a massive-ass ant.

Yeah, that’s pretty weird too.

...Why am I talking about stories again? I’m not even WRITING a story. I’m writing a letter. To you. You’re not ever going to see it, but it’s for you.

Man, this is weird.

Well, I guess you’re wondering why I’m writing this, huh? Well, you WOULD be, if I gave it to you. But I’m not going to. I guess Ignis would call this a waste of his paper, but it’s only one sheet!

Okay, maybe it’s a little more. But STILL.

...Am I EVER going to start on why I’m writing this? I SHOULD, but, like... even the thought of WRITING it makes me nervous. Writing it would be like... making it definite. Absolute. Certain. That kind of thing. Currently, I can still pretend it’s not happening. I can still pretend I’m not thinking these thoughts, I’m not feeling these feelings. The thought of putting it down, of writing it in stone (or, well, paper) makes my stomach go all weird. Y’know how people talk about getting butterflies in your stomach? Yeah, I’ve got a whole KALEIDOSCOPE (yup, the word for a group of butterflies actually is ‘kaleidoscope’! I found that out, uh... two minutes ago).  

Having a kaleidoscope of butterflies inside your stomach is a WEIRD sensation, lemme tell ya. Like, imagine if EVERY time I hugged you the kaleidoscope started fluttering wildly and made you feel the things those protagonists of bad dating sims feel (although it’s impossible to be as cheesy and awful as that ‘Namco High’ dating sim. God, that was HILARIOUS. And terrible. But funny. I can’t believe we stayed up all night playing that shitty-ass game. We could’ve played King’s Knight or Mario Kart, but nope, we play shitty dating sims.).

...I just gave it away, didn’t I.

Anyway, as I guess you’ve guessed (or WOULD guess if you were actually gonna read this), I... love you like you think you’re hot want to date you want to kiss you want to just do stupid romantic stuff with you

Ah, fuck.

Okay, now I’m ACTUALLY going to say it. Just... gimme a minute.

Well, I just walked around the haven about twelve times and scrunched up the paper and threw it and then ran to get it back and almost got into a fight with some daemons but here we are.

I’m gonna say it. I’m gonna say it. I’m gonna say it.

Look, Noct. You’re my best friend, and the best person I know (don’t tell Ignis and Gladio). You’re funny (sometimes unintentionally), nice, fun to be with, and have really great hair. I guess it was only natural that I... started to like you.

Not like as in friend-like (although I still like you like a friend too), but like as in... like-like. As in, I want to go on stupid dates and randomly kiss you and cuddle when we have to share a bed and stroke your hair and give you flowers and wear each other’s clothes and touch our foreheads together and do those nose bump things and just do everything I’ve wanted to do for years now.

There. I said it.

...Why don’t I feel better? Why do I just feel WORSE? That wasn’t supposed to happen! I was supposed to confess everything into this letter and then I’d feel unburdened and I’d be able to finally let go of these goddamn feelings for you!

Oh. Right. It’s because I’ve liked you for years and my stupid heart’s become too attached to you.

I looked up stuff on how to get over your best friend, but it was all pretty unhelpful. They were all telling me to distance myself for a while! Um, no thanks. First of all, I don’t WANT to distance myself. Like I said, you’re the best person I know. Why would I want to spend any less time with my favourite person?! That would just be... boring. And second of all, I can’t distance myself, even if I wanted to. We share a TENT.

So... yeah. I like you. I like you too much, and I KNOW I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it! I’m really sorry, but I... just can’t.

I want to tell you upfront, I really do. But I don’t know whether you like me back. Sometimes I get these little feelings that you do. I dunno, sometimes I just catch you looking at me with this odd little smile on your face and then you’ll suddenly look away... or sometimes you’ll be a bit more touchy-feely than you need to be... and you tend to gravitate towards me whilst we’re walking... and you always seem to be closer to me than friends should be in a tent. But then, well, I’m probably misinterpreting all that because I so desperately want you to like me too. It’s confusing, isn’t it?

And then, well, if you don’t like me back, confessing to you would just be a dick move.

YOU wouldn’t class it as a dick move. Hell, you’d be pretty chill about it. But... I would. You’ve got so much on your shoulders right now. King Regis was murdered, Insomnia fell, Jared was killed, you’re going to get married, we’ve got to take back Insomnia, you’re pretty much the King... the list goes on. I know you, Noct. You’d feel guilty over rejecting me, and it’d weigh on your mind more than you care to admit.

Especially because, well... ‘cause you’re getting married.

I don’t know if you love Lady Luna, I don’t know if you love me, I don’t know if you love anyone at all. But I do know that you’re getting married to Lady Luna, not me. And if I ruined your special day with a stupid confession, I’d hate myself for it. It’s your special day where people are celebrating your marriage. That’s a day that’s supposed to make you happy, and it will, even if you’re not in love with Lady Luna (and if you are, then you’ll be on Cloud Nine!). She’s your friend, and you’ll be happy with her. I don’t want you to look at me on your wedding day with pity, I don’t want you to look at me and remember that I’m not enjoying the day as much as I should be.

So I’m not going to tell you how I feel. I’m just going to... just going to bottle it up and act like I always do!

Although, I get the feeling that my normal actions don’t cover it up well. I mean, I don’t think YOU’VE guessed (you’re kinda as emotionally-perceptive as a rock), but I feel like Ignis has, and maybe even Gladio. They haven’t said anything, but, like, I dunno, they just give me these... looks, sometimes. Like, I’ll just be leaning on you whilst playing King’s Knight and Ignis will just kind of... smile? It’s a small, tiny thing, but he still does it, I swear on the Six. And then I’m SURE that both of them just sorta... glance at me whenever we start talking about your wedding. I might be imagining things, but... I swear I’m not. So, like, I try to remove suspicion. Whaddaya think all that stuff with Cindy is? Yeah, she’s cool and nice and pretty hot and would probably be fun to date, but it wouldn’t be half as awesome as dating you would be. I just gush over her so that you’ll actually believe I’m head over heels for her instead of, well, you.

Come ON, we’d be so awesome together! We could go on dates to the arcade and order pizza at three in the morning and stay up watching shitty movies and I know we already do that but we could do it as boyfriends instead of best friends and I just 

...Sorry. Haha, I’ve gotta work on keeping my fantasies in check, huh?

...I wish I was the one getting married to you.

Okay, right! I guess that’s, er, my confession done then! I’ve written my feelings in a letter addressed to you which you’re never ever going to read, and so I should stop wanting you so badly!

...I’m never going to stop, am I?

But... even if I’m never going to stop liking you, I’m still going to be your best friend. I’m still going to do stupid stuff with you and take funny pictures and loudly sing terrible songs at one in the morning. I’m never going to be the one who you kiss, but dammit, I’m going to be the greatest best friend ever! And on your wedding, I’ll be the best best man Eos has ever seen.

Because loving you means accepting that I’ll never be anything more than a best friend. But it also means finding happiness and enjoying the special bond we do have.

Well, that’s that. I was going to throw this away into the lake, but... I think I’ll keep it. Just, don’t wear my jacket, yeah? And ESPECIALLY don’t check my front pocket. I’m warning you, Noct!

Love From Yours sincerely Best wishes Forever yours,

Prompto ✌ 

P.S. Sorry about the wet patches. They’re... not rain.

[wellpersonsblog]

Can You Believe It? No Meat Athlete is 10 Years Old!

In 2009, I was a grad student in Baltimore, working on a PhD in applied math but completely unsure as to what I’d do with it.

Recently married, no kids.

I spent my time training for marathons, watching cooking shows, and coding models for sports betting.

And then, one day I decided that I was going to stop eating meat. Gradually.

It was primarily an ethical decision, but I had started to believe that (maybe) it wouldn’t have to slow me down as a runner.

I looked around the internet for advice on how to be an endurance athlete and a vegetarian, and what I found was completely unhelpful.

Because in 2009 there was no Rich Roll Podcast. No Eat & Run. Not even a Forks Over Knives. If there were any blogs out there about eating a plant-based diet (not a term yet) and running, I didn’t find them.

That’s when I got my idea. On March 17, 2009, I wrote this in my journal:

(Funny that “vegan” didn’t cross my mind. And pescetarianathlete.com? What can I say, for every good idea, there are 100 bad ones… but it looks like the domain is still available if you want to give it a shot!)

I was worried that “vegetarian athlete” was way too small of a niche. And back then, this wasn’t an unreasonable concern. But after brainstorming more, I was excited. The next day:

Luckily, I was smart enough to know that the guy I was talking to had the attention span of… well, what most of us have for an attention span these days:

But what to actually do with it? I figured I could blend a passion for cooking with what I’d learned about running and nutrition — plus maybe a dash of ra-ra motivation — and make something that would at worst be a fun diversion from math, and at best…

…well, I didn’t know. I thought maybe people would wear our t-shirts. But I figured if I just started writing about what I was doing and people started reading it, I could figure out what to do later.

So I didn’t overthink it (could be the first time in history that happened). I created nomeatathlete.wordpress.com, wrote up a post, and on March 23rd I hit “Publish.”

(That first post is still there, but I guess I deleted the others when I moved the whole site to nomeatathlete.com.)

And I was right. When I hit “Publish,” it all changed.

I was in the middle of reading a book when I started No Meat Athlete, something obscure by Douglas Hofstadter about math and consciousness. I dropped it immediately for a book called Tribes, by Seth Godin, which was the closest thing I could find to a manual for how to do what I wanted to do with No Meat Athlete.

And somehow, it worked.

People started reading and leaving comments. A few popular bloggers linked to NMA or let me write guest posts for them. NMA started showing up in Google searches. People started wearing running carrot t-shirts.

By the time things settled down enough for me to open the Hofstadter book again, it was three years later — I was living in a different city, with a two-year-old son, and a daughter on the way. I had qualified for Boston, gone vegan, and become an ultrarunner. I now worked full-time on NMA with a small team (high-five, Susan and Doug!), and even had a deal for a book of my own in the works.

(Still no PhD though… I gave that up when I decided No Meat Athlete was a better bet.)

So yes. It all changed.

But it wasn’t just me. So did the whole plant-based fitness landscape.

First it was a few other vegetarian or vegan running blogs that popped up. Then Rich Roll’s and Scott Jurek’s books came out, just two weeks apart. And then it felt like it all started to shift.

From the inside, it’s impossible for me to say what role NMA has played in that bigger change. I’m just grateful that it’s happening, and that we’ve gotten to be a part of it at all.

How do you sum up 10 years?

I don’t really know what to do with a 10-year anniversary post. Not in my wildest dreams did I think I’d ever be writing one. (In 2009, nobody really knew if blogs would still be a thing in 10 years.)

The first three years were a blur. So many blog posts — every day for the first few months, and multiple times weekly after that. So many books I read, so much research I did, so many articles I dissected, to learn everything I could about how to do this well.

In those years, there were a lot of Vegfests. And so many running carrot shirts. Who knows how many we shipped out of our house (something like 30,000) before we finally couldn’t keep up and had to outsource the operation. (Thanks to our customer service superstar Esther, we’ve now in-sourced those shirts again this year.)

Then there was a book.

And a book tour.

I started a podcast, one that floundered at first and then was revived when Doug came on board, and still produces a new episode almost every week and has been downloaded many millions of times now.

There have been vegan cruises, trips to Runner’s World HQ, international talks, and meetups with readers around the country and in Europe. There was getting to meet so many accomplished athletes, doctors, cooks, and authors… and so many more people I had learned from and idolized when I was getting started.

There was spending a week with Seth Godin’s, a blogging hero of mine whose book Tribes helped me start NMA, and getting to work with him to hatch the idea for No Meat Athlete Running Groups.

Then, of course, there were those running groups. And there still are. (More about the running groups coming next week, during the weeklong 10th birthday party we have planned).

Then there was another book, one that caught mainstream attention through Sports Illustrated, People, and Outside.

And after that, there was a revised and updated version of the first book…

…and along the way those NMA books have sold 100,000 copies and been published in 5 languages. So far. (Who the heck bought all those?)

And eventually, I co-founded a supplement company (don’t call Complement a supplement, though), which has shipped out 15,000 bottles already, and is growing faster than No Meat Athlete ever did.

And yet for all that has changed, in this moment it’s kind of the same as it started.

I’m alone at my desk — standing now, instead of sitting — writing a blog post.

The microphone next to me gets a lot more use than the keyboard, as most of the regular content I’ve created in the past few years has been for the podcast, but right now, it’s just like it was 10 years ago.

No Meat Athlete as a blog and brand is so different now. It’s not all about me anymore, and less so every day. That’s by design, because I know it can be so much better if it’s not just about me. We’re a team. And No Meat Athlete is a community.

But in a way, it’s kinda still the same. We put out content — audio, text, and (soon, I hope) video — about how to eat a plant-based diet as an athlete. We try to make this whole thing as welcoming, friendly, and evidence-based as possible, to be exactly the type of site that I was looking for 10 years ago when I first Googled “advice for athletes who want to be vegetarian.” (Remember when we used to type long things into Google?)

And doing that creates ways in which the tribe supports us and keeps us going. For a decade now, you have — eight people now have full- or part-time work through No Meat Athlete and Alpine Organics — and for that I’m incredibly grateful.

For my part, I’ve gradually gotten to be me again, finding a balance between Matt “the No Meat Athlete” (a nickname I can’t stand) and pre-NMA Matt. I did eventually finish that book I was reading. And in the past two years, once NMA became more about the team than about me, I’ve gotten to be a better dad — one that I was just a little too NMA-obsessed to be in the first few years. And I’ve picked up some old hobbies that I dropped when my entire world was No Meat Athlete, which has been really nice.

I have no idea what the next 10 years hold, but I’m excited for them. With a team, we get a lot more done, a lot faster than I used to on my own. That understanding is still sinking in, and the more it does, the better we get.

No Meat Athlete’s next 10 years will be very different from the first. They have to be. But because of our team, because of the audience that cares about us, and because of the way the plant-based fitness movement has grown, I think we’re positioned to make a hundred times the impact we’ve had so far. And I can’t wait to see what that looks like.

Thanks for being along for the ride.

P.S. Like a said, lots of celebrations to come next week! Stay tuned and get your party hat on.

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