#what even is the reasoning behind removing the headphone jack???

[halfalgorithm]

Hey phone manufacturers... I hate you

#cause now i can't listen to music cause i gotta charge my phone #and i had to buy an adapter just to use my nice headphonea #what even is the reasoning behind removing the headphone jack??? #whatever ugh #guess i gotta buy yet another accessory for my phone!!!! #a splitter thing so i can charge and listen to music!! #granted i could just listen without headphones but idk

[junhuiste]

next level (ex-wip)

pairing: wonwoo x gn reader

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, angst, slightly suggestive, cursing, friends to enemies to lovers, college au

a/n: so i said i’d publish my other ex wips and here’s another one! i planned on making this a 3 parter where y/n asks wonwoo for help on a computer game even though they were enemies but before that they were friends …does that make any sense i didn’t think so! also this is an ex wip so sorry for the asterisks everywhere! those words were the ones i was gonna replace later on lmfao!!!! also i wrote this 2 years ago when i was 17 so my apologies if its utter bullshit 😭

as wonwoo help you leveled up, you wondered if you should do the same regarding your friendship…errr…enemyship….

It’d been an hour or so of Wonwoo verbally guiding you through the various moves and strategies but once he stood up your breath suddenly hitched, for whatever reason.

Breathing seemingly became somewhat harder as you saw from the corner of your eye that wonwoo was coming to stand behind you.

“it’s gonna get harder,” he said softly, his hand finding yours, “let me help you.”

as much as you appreciated his help, you didn’t need wonwoo to baby you; you were perfectly capable of taking verbal directions without needing guidance like a rookie. “i can do it; i swear!”

though it was hard to train your eyes on both wonwoo and the computer monitor simultaneously, you managed to do it anyway. “that’s not what you said last week when i offered you my help.”

it wasn’t that you didn’t need wonwoo’s help, and it wasn’t certainly that you didn’t want it, but there was something mischievous yet somehow alluring and amusing pushing him away. it was honestly quite ***horrible ** for you to admit it, but playing cat and mouse was refreshing, though it was a game hard to keep up with.

eventually you gave in and you took deep breaths slowly and surely as wonwoo’s hand rest atop yours. it was warm, but not sweaty; relaxed, but not ***heavy***. his head was most definitely closer to yours than last time, even though you tried to focus solely on the computer monitor, he was within an ear’s whisper from you. as he guided your hand, your thoughts glided slowly away from the game entirely and onto the boy behind you. it was hard, really, to ****focus*** on the 146th level of the game when the boy you liked a while back had his shoulder barely leaning into yours, with his warmth radiating onto you so so comfortably.

it hadn’t even been 10 minutes since wonwoo had stood up behind you that his arm was now resting ***comfortably***on yours. the weight of his top half ***barely*** on yours wasn’t even what went into consideration, for the most part. it what you could feel was ***slowly*** developing in the room, moment by moment, and it was excruciatingly painful how much time it took to build up. palms clammy, fingers ready to give out, and breathing ***most definitely*** not under control, you were ready to tap out and give into your instincts.

a mosh pit of psychedelic colors reflected onto both of your faces as the round ended. with the blinds only half drawn and how bright the screen was turned up, you winced at what seemed like a light source that envied the sun glared at you. the heat from the screen wasn’t the only **warmth**** prevalent, however. you certainly hadn’t forgotten about wonwoo’s shoulder ***leaning** onto yours.

avoiding all what you’d learned in high/secondary school about what freud said about the ego calming the id, you surpassed straying from your normal actions. you’d leaped from them, and it couldn’t be fathomed by anyone, by you or soonyoung, or especially jeon wonwoo, what lead you to remove your headphones and turn around in the computer chair and then kiss jeon wonwoo. what was most surprising was that he leaned in too, so much didn’t have to be done on your part.

as he leaned in closer, you pulled wonwoo closer, as if it were instinct and you’d kissed him a thousand times before. knowing him for quite some time, it was evident that he didn’t link up with anyone, whether that be for a single night of pleasure or months of commitment, so it was ***most definitely*** more than alike to a jack-in-the-box when he knew what he was doing, and so well too. his hand **softly*** stroking your cheek with your thumb and your hand ***softly **rubbing*** his neck were a pair you never would’ve expected in light years would be together. the whole ***thing** was just unbelievable…and undoubtedly **breathtaking***, as such as you would ***hate*** to ever tell him.

flashes of blue and red glossed wonwoo’s face again as you looked up at him. “would you look at that,” a slight tinge of satisfaction laced his tone and captured his expression, as you heard a faint “level 147 unlocked” behind you.

the exact reason you were at the dorm for you had completely abandoned; your endeavor was ***seemingly** cut short by your id, too strong for it to be tamed by your superego. in fact, all goals for the game were temporarily thrusted into the iceberg of your unconscious thoughts as you looked up at wonwoo again while tugging his shirt.

it was a precarious game of truth or dare you were playing with yourself, and you were losing to nothing none other than your current desires? mere attractions? repressed feelings? whatever it was, it didn’t really matter as wonwoo leaned into you again, this time more ***forcefully/intensely**, with both of you managing to slip a tongue in here and there. french kissing wonwoo? not exactly on your bucket list but something you were glad to have checked off, be it for lust, regret, or simply nostalgia of how you once felt for the boy who’s sweater you were tugging at to bring him closer and closer and closer.

it had **certainly** been more than a few good minutes of locking lips with jeon wonwoo, and what resulted was both of you panting heavily and looking each other in the eyes a little too intensely for your liking—not necessarily a look of sin but rather of repressed longing and ***regret**. the tension swore to engulf you and spit you out but what was sprinting through your mind instead was that wonwoo kissed you back.

had the naive, freshman you known that making out with jeon wonwoo would become a reality, you would’ve jumped at the thought. was he cute or irritating? bold or brazen? or was he simply just there that you immediately caved in and let your libido think for itself? it was just like that class where he palpated you; did feelings resurface because of a craving for affection? or was wonwoo a person you genuinely wanted to pursue something with. restating what he’d said earlier, that’s not what you’d thought a few months ago.

confusion. that’s what it was at most, at best, with the clearest label. wonwoo was there, yes, but he was also ***caring** (yet competitive), offering (yet **pretentious**), and someone you’d cared for back. the way he carried himself around you was *annoying** at times, sure, but he was never malicious. wonwoo had not one bad bone in his body, and you were willing to stand by that statement. his competitiveness and bold nature that peeked in once in a while were far outweighed by his humility.

no matter how many times he corrected you as naive and curious freshmen, you’d always find yourself falling back to feelings. just like now. but what was it really? did bubbles reappear just because of his hand on yours? because of his somewhat secret smiles when he knew you enjoyed his company? maybe. but it certainly wasn’t because he was just there.

even if bubbles popped and didn’t reappear, it would be better to get feelings out, right? it would lessen the blow, for both you and wonwoo. would you come to terms with what you once harbored for jeon wonwoo? maybe not.

sitting on the bed, wonwoo perked his head up at the sight of you in the chair finally facing him. “this…this isn't a heat of a moment thing…” you began, taking as much of your precious time as possible. if you were going to confront how you felt and didn't feel simultaneously, it might as well have taken some thought at the very least, especially for wonwoo’s sake.

the raven-haired** boy hunched over with a quirked eyebrow to continue to hear you out.

“i like you—i’m sorry, i mean i used to like you. like a lot. sometimes a lot for my own good. back in freshman year.” it was a struggle to get it all out in one breath. confrontation should be something you’d never have to do again. wonwoo stayed silent, his eyes no longer **trained* on yours, but shifted **somewhat** nervously to the floor. the way your heart pulsated mercilessly at the brutal sound of silence forced the temperature to shoot up suddenly.

it didn’t work; you didn’t feel clean, worse actually, and from what it looked like at the moment, wonwoo probably did as well. he usually did well when it all boiled down to fear, feelings, and *rationality* mixing, because he pushed it away. everyone knew that, and you especially. he didn’t take any hard hits when he was third-wheeling soonyoung or roaming mindlessly at one of **NCT’s** notorious frat parties.

maybe it was time to leave. perhaps those moments of silence where you had to recollect yourself, your dignity, and your feelings were a pure waste.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know why i just threw that at you. i’ll leave now—and uh, thanks for the help.” sometimes feelings weren’t merely felt, other times they were ruthless and just sprung up at the worst of times. maybe that’s why your body was unforgiving and threatening to prick your eyes with water. hurriedly, you grabbed your headphones and clenched them tightly in your fist before taking a step to leave.

however, a pang of something hit. it was unidentifiable, that thing that was keeping you from taking any more steps to leave wonwoo’s room. it was agonizing at the same intensity as it was delirious, and wild and tantalizing even. whatever it was, it was piercing you, forcing you to stay in place.

once again, the air around you was impassioned and the evident thumping and thrashing and thrusting in your chest occurred as wonwoo stood up in front of you. his tall stature didn’t threaten you, only how you felt did.

“how long?” he pried with a *cold** kind of warmth before sitting down in the computer chair. his knees were almost touching yours, and he leaned back with burning curiosity.

“i…don’t know. it was a while back…and for a long time; that’s all i remember.”

the unspoken miracle had graced you as river that almost formed around your eyes earlier had finally dried up.

wonwoo had that same look on his face he always had when no answers or solutions came to mind right away. it wasn’t expressionless, far from it. you didn't know if it was inquiry or discontent, or even a thrill; the latter you’d wished but was far from being a reality.

the way wonwoo struggled to get out what he wanted took you aback. he always knew what to say, whether witty, spiteful, or helpful, and to plain sight of him also choking on his words threw you for a numbing, yet throbbing** loop.

“do you still like me?” wonwoo finally made eye contact with you, the kind of eye contact someone makes when they itch for the answer to so badly be yes.

it was at that moment that he locked you in again. but you spent the last year convincing yourself you hated him. indeed, hate was too strong of a word for it. something else. and just as you’d told him, it was absolutely not the kiss that stirred you to confess in a half-assed manner. it was just so bothersome to not know what those feelings were.

it almost choked to say it, because you *genuinely* felt it, but didn’t know what exactly to do about it.

“i-i don’t know.” you couldn’t keep up with eye contact. it was much too biting.

wonwoo captured your eyes again, but this time it wasn’t the same confused gleam they held, but rather one of clouded elation. you couldn’t exactly tell, but you knew it was just electricity in there somewhere.

“do you want to kiss me again?” was the million dollar question that was lurking. wonwoo asked it with such subtle amusement. instead of taking advantage of your feelings and vulnerability in this situation, which he would never think to do, he decided to act upon his own.

there was an evident yearning in his tone, his body language, his eyes, everything. you knew the difference between when wonwoo was simply waiting for an answer and when he was aching for it immediately. this moment called for the latter.

his inclination provoked a smile out of you. whatever it was, you didn’t know how you felt; you just knew you needed to kiss him again.

you dropped everything you had been clenching so tightly in your hands and and bent down to hold his face in your hand as you leaned in. his soft lips finally met yours again, and unlike the first couple of kisses you shared, this time it was *softer***, slower, driven by an avid and throbbing want to be as close to the other person as possible. this time it had meaning. and you couldn’t find yourself pulling away as wonwoo’s hand came behind your thigh to pull you closer to him.

he was never one to make the first move, for most things, and it surprised you when he popped the question and pulled you to him. practically falling on him in the chair, you whispered out a faint “sorry”, as he rushed to hold you. he *giggled softly** before he continued to kiss you. eventually you repositioned yourself to straddle him in the chair and oh my god you were making out with jeon wonwoo.

videogames, huh?

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagine #seventeen #wonwoo

[becaeffinmitchell]

Fic: what i have (is who i carry home) (1/1)

Summary: Chloe, as it turns out, loves Valentine's Day.

Of course she does. Beca can't say she's surprised in the least.

aka, five Valentine's Days Beca Mitchell's had.

Note: After ten thousand years, I’m free! Or, you know, after eight years, I’m finally posting my first Bechloe fic. Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone 🥰  Gif credit goes entirely to @evenstars​ (thank you so much again!)

Words: 4,954

Read below or on AO3!

--------

i. 2012, Freshman Year, Barden University

There are so many other things Beca would rather be doing.

Like go to the dentist. Actually show up for class. Spend time over dinner with her dad and the step-monster.

Okay, maybe not that last one. Nothing in the world would make her choose that.

But here she is, in that stupid red hoodie, holding that stupid bow and arrow, standing in front of people, refusing to sing that stupid song with Amy.

*

 Later, back at the auditorium where they have Bellas practice, Aubrey's voice is shrill and loud. (As always, Beca thinks.)

"Beca, you really need to be picking up the slack. We need every dollar that we can raise so that we have enough to cover our journey to the semi-finals, and you're dead last in our fundraiser right now."

Amy mutters something under her breath, soft enough for Beca to hear something about — the bus? The Trebles? She doesn't really know. Whatever it is, it's not something she wants to get in the middle of.

"Maybe we can think of something new to do." Beca's tone is dry, and she schools her expression into something neutral on her face, her head tilted slightly, knowing that Aubrey has to know she isn't just talking about the fundraising activity.

It's just — she can feel the potential of these girls, okay? And it's such a shame that they're stuck doing the same three songs, over and over. If she could at least try, show them her arrangements, maybe they'd have a fighting chance.

"I have the pitch pipe, and I say we do this exactly how we have been doing it."

Beca is about to say something snarky, something she knows is going to get under Aubrey's skin, when Chloe's voice rang out beside her.

"It's okay. I'll do it with Beca tomorrow."

She hasn't even noticed Chloe approaching them in the midst of this, so her head whips around so fast at the sound of her voice.

"Don't you have a class during that time, Chloe? That's the whole reason why we couldn't pair you up with Beca." There's something about Aubrey's clipped words that is super careful and controlled, like there's more that she wants to say but isn't.

Chloe shrugs, before turning to Beca with a beaming smile. "It's okay, skipping out on one Russian Lit lecture won't make a difference."

 *

 Chloe, as it turns out, loves Valentine's Day.

Of course she does. Beca can't say she's surprised in the least. She thinks she doesn't know anyone who's more enthusiastic about everything and anything.

There's something about Chloe that feels like embers starting at the base of Beca's dead, cold heart, warming it up and turning itself three sizes larger.

It's not a thing she wants to unpack right now; she's not the type to get attached to people, and especially not when she's going to go through with her plan, and leave at the end of the school year. It doesn't matter if her dad helps her or not.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Chloe's voice, melodic as it comes, breaks the silence as they walk towards the south quad. She looks ready to go through the entire residence hall, her angel wings bouncing behind them.

"It's a day corporations literally invented to convince everyone to buy cards and chocolates and flowers at jacked up prices, so..."

Chloe lets out a happy sigh. "Maybe so. But it's also a day to celebrate love! And love is so awesome. I love love. And I'm not just talking about romantic love, though that is nice. You can also celebrate the love from all relationships in your life. Like your best friends, or your parents, or your siblings."

Beca raises an eyebrow, because Chloe is just so goddamn earnest. She tugs at her hoodie. "Let me guess, you and shower guy have a date?"

"Who, Tom?"

"How many shower guys do you have?" There's a beat. "Actually, don't answer that."

 *

 So here she is, still in that stupid red hoodie, still holding that stupid bow and arrow, standing in front of people, and singing a duet with Chloe Beale.

 *

 The next morning, Kimmy unceremoniously drops a box at the foot of Beca's bed, a loud thud waking her up.

There's a sleeping mask, a whole clip of flash drives, two huge jars of peanut butter, and cans of Red Bull in the box. There's also a card, and her name is written carefully in the middle of an envelope.

Happy Valentine's Day, Beca!!!! I've said this before, and I'll say it forever: I'm SO glad that I met you. I LOVE that you love music like it's the one thing you can't live without. It's something that really resonates with me, too. You make us better. :) :)

xoxo,

Chloe!

 *

 Beca drifts off to sleep that night, the music still playing in her headphones. She's wearing that sleeping mask across her eyes.

 ------------

ii. 2014, Junior Year, Barden University

 The thing with Jesse is, he really loves these grand gestures of romance.

Sometimes Beca thinks that that's his favorite part. It's almost like he's in love with the idea of being in a relationship.

Worse still, in love with the idea of her, like she's this perfectly scripted character who exists for him.

Last year for Valentine's Day, Jesse had shown up at her dorm. Well, outside of her window actually, boombox on his shoulder. She'd tried not to wince, her lips pressed together into something resembling a smile (she hopes) to the strains of In Your Eyes, at the ungodly hour of dawn.

It isn't even that she had just gotten to sleep like, two hours before that. Or the very clear and enunciated "fuck off!" that her neighbor gave them, complete with a dramatic slamming of her window. At least she doesn't have to deal with that now, now that they've all moved into the Bellas house, newly renovated.

It was just a lot, right? And maybe she should have been a better girlfriend to anticipate it this year, or at least match some of that. Rise up to his level, or something. She just has a reservation to a fancy Italian restaurant in Midtown, and she made that way in advance. So maybe she gets points for that?

January rolls into February, and she dreads it. Every day is a countdown to The Fourteenth.

 *

 Here's the more pressing thing: Chloe seems sad. Not all the time, but Beca catches it occasionally.

She presumes she knows her best friend pretty well by this point, until she's doing things like failing a single class on purpose so that she doesn't graduate. For the second year in a row.

And Beca gets it, at least on an abstract level. If she starts thinking about what comes after graduation — and that's in a year and some — she gets nervous, too. But in no version of her reality does she get so paralyzed with fear, that she would opt to repeat her senior year like it’s groundhog year.

She wishes she could know why, for certain. She can't help if she doesn't know what's going on in Chloe's head, but for the first time, it's Chloe's turn to clam up and switch the subject.

So Beca doesn't push. She hopes it's enough to keep her afloat as she works through whatever it is. She doesn't really know what that entails, but music? Music she can do.

She pours her energy into putting together a really solid mix for Chloe; it's all the songs that remind Beca of her, and their friendship. She picks songs and arranges them and removes them before she puts them back in, because it has to sound right.

Beca feels like the world's biggest dork for giving it to her the morning of Valentine's Day.

Well, second biggest dork, because she intercepts Chloe leaving the gift boxes in the room, for her and Amy.

"Hey, uh. Happy Valentine's Day," she says, handing her the flash drive — one of the many that Chloe has gotten her over the years, like she's her supplier — and hoping she doesn't look as awkward as she feels. "It's not anything like your, like, super thoughtful gifts." She gestures in that general direction. "But you're my best friend, so... here."

She gets pulled into a hug, and Beca can't be sure, but it sounds like Chloe's 'thank you' is strained and she's about to cry.

Beca hopes it's enough.

 *

 "So, Jesse gave you just the one earring?"

Beca's back from the dinner. It was... nice? There was a string quartet and Jesse made them play John Legend's All Of Me, and Beca didn't actually die of embarrassment when he started singing along, so she'll chalk that up as a win.

"Yeah, it's like — symbolism, I guess. From the movie." Beca shrugs, chewing on the popcorn she's made that Chloe is currently stealing. She thinks about lightly smacking her hand away, but ends up shifting the bowl so that it's nearer to Chloe.

Does she regret putting Don't You (Forget About Me) in their setlist? Maybe.

Probably not, all things considered, because it worked well together with the other songs, and they did win the finals that year. But it elevated the movie to mythical and legendary status for Jesse, and if he does that arm raising motion one more time during squabbles he wants to get out of? Beca might lose it even harder.

"Is it symbolism or a metaphor? I could never tell the difference."

"I think it was a metaphor in the movie," Beca starts, a thoughtful expression on her face. "But more of a symbol for like, me and Jesse? Oh my god." She presses her free hand to her eyes. "You're such a nerd. Stop making me think deeper about this than I need or want to."

"I just think it's nice," she hears Chloe say.

Beca hums, tone neutral. "It's something, for sure. Wait." She whips her head to face her best friend. "You didn't go out tonight? Ms. 'I Love Love'?"

Chloe chuckles lowly, quietly. "I have all I need here in this house, anyway."

 *

 When Beca goes to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a glass of water, she thinks she hears the soft strains of her mix playing from Chloe's room.

   ------------

  iii. 2017, Brooklyn, NY

 It's apparently the warmest February in New York on record, but Beca is still fucking freezing.

The incessant chill envelops the air, and she pulls her coat closer to her. She's bundled under layers, but the radiator in their tiny little apartment is, as most things in it, almost completely busted.

Jesus Christ. It's cold.

 *

 Amy is convinced she's cold because she's moping, because she's sad about breaking up with Jesse.

Beca knows she isn't, and it's not just the long distance thing.

They'd given it a fair go, and it sucked that he got busier with classes and she tried to solve all of the music industry's problems as an associate producer, working hours trying to make tracks sound... sonically unrotten.

It's not just the long distance thing, because if Beca was honest with herself, it was probably a sign that when he told her that he was thinking of completing his studies in California, her immediate response was that of neutral indifference.

So, she is totally fine.

 *

 Beca hears Chloe singing softly before the door even opens, and she can hear it swing open too, and she knows Chloe is about to shrug her coat off —

"Don't bother, it's also cold in here," Beca says, from under the covers.

Then, her eyes track Chloe as she walks to the radiator —

"I checked, it's working. Supposedly."

"Aww." Chloe strides the distance — not that it's that long — and sits down on their shared bed. "You're so cute when you're grumpy."

"Aren't you freezing?" she chooses to deflect the comment, hugging herself petulantly. "Hey, how was your date with that guy at the clinic?"

Chloe hums noncommittally. "We went for coffee and he double-booked me with another girl."

"Dude. What a dick." Beca feels a flash of — annoyance? Chloe deserves the world. Chloe deserves everything she wants. "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay though." Chloe smiles at her. It's that smile that Beca catches that she thinks it's just for her, but she's also a logical person who knows that Chloe has that ability to make people feel like they're the most important person in the world. "I've got all I need right here."

Warmth pools at Beca's stomach, and honestly. It's a nice change from the freezing.

 *

 It's 2 AM, and they're cuddling, because of course they are; because Chloe is warm; because Chloe is an embrace personified; because... Chloe.

Beca stirs awake, and she feels Chloe's breath tickle at the base of her neck. She shifts, not uncomfortably. Then, Chloe's hand drifts sleepily, and lands somewhere on Beca's hip.

And then.

And then.

There is a sudden, startling clarity in Beca's mind, knocking the figurative breath out of her. Her eyes fly open.

She loves Chloe.

And not in the same way where she loves the rest of her found family in the other Bellas.

Oh no, a voice sounds in her mind.

Oh, this is very bad, she thinks.

She can't believe how still she is right now, feeling the entire weight of Chloe's body in contact against her. Feeling her slow, steady breathing against her back. She's not even cold anymore.

Okay. So she loves her best friend. Cool, cool, very cool. That's totally fine. She can handle this.

Chloe's been such a fixture in her life, at every turn; in every note in between the downbeat and upbeat that is her life. Music is in Beca's veins, her whole life, but music flows right through Chloe. She's tucked warmly in the melody, a motif throughout the entire song.

Holy shit, Beca thinks. She's been in love with Chloe for so long, she doesn't even know when it started.

 *

 Okay, so. There's a weird spot on the ceiling, right? And Beca just keeps staring at it, because if she closes her eyes, she will feel Chloe's presence so keenly, pressed next to her.

She can't do anything with this knowledge. She can imagine it now, Chloe giving her a comforting hug but tells her, sorry Beca, I love you but not in that way.

It's five whole years of friendship, of Chloe by her side no matter what, and that is the one thing that she's got that she doesn't want to risk, just because she had this stupid revelation.

God. It's so stupid. It'll pass. Right?

 ------------

 iv. 2018, Los Angeles, CA

 What is really fucking weird, even in the grand scheme of things, is journalists asking her if she's doing anything for Valentine's Day.

Which, like. First of all, Beca's not stupid, she knows it's a way to suss out her personal-slash-love life.

She's kept that pretty close to her chest for now.

But also, there's literally nothing to tell. She's not being defensive because there's something to hide away. Beca is knee-deep in work all the time, and she goes home to an apartment that feels too big for just herself. It's a big change from the entirely too cramped apartment in Brooklyn.

Sometimes she finds herself missing that very specific part of her life. Not the struggling and being unhappy doing work with no integrity, obviously. But Chloe is now a message and three hours ahead, instead of being a daily fixture in her apartment, and it leaves Beca feeling off-kilter.

But maybe that distance is a good thing, after... you know. Revelations.

Anyway.

Her work ethic doesn't stop rumors. She's linked to every guy available — and some not — every single time one of them likes her Instagram posts. She's pretty sure she's had at least two full relationships, according to the National Enquirer.

Theo gleefully sends her screenshots. She tells him to fuck off.

 *

 Chloe Look out, super star! I'm going to be in LA for a good friend's wedding in February!! If you think we're not going to hang, you're sorely mistaken.

 Beca is busy, but she sure as hell isn't going to miss Chloe coming to LA.

 Beca You have good friends outside of the Bellas? I am shocked, Beale.

 Chloe Don't be jealous 😉

 She's not. Not because of that, she catches herself thinking, and frowns at herself. Not because of anything, she decides. It's also exactly how she decides she doesn't have feelings for Chloe anymore, because Chloe is happy with Chicago, and Beca has work, and honestly? Best outcome out of every outcome possible.

Still, Beca offers up her apartment for the long-ish weekend that Chloe would be in town. She's not a monster, and Chloe has like, a mountain of student debt.

It's the least she could do.

 *

 (Beca thinks back to that first performance at the Citadel, just under a year ago. Thinks of all the nerves she's never felt before, while she's walking to the microphone. She's always had the girls on stage with her, but not this time. Her family would be seated in the front row, supporting her no matter how far she goes.

She gets to bring them up on stage this time, of course, but it's also a temporary balm and she knows it. But that's fine, she can figure that part out.

It's the after that smarts a little.

After the performance, after the event, after she feels that pit, growing and clawing from her stomach when she sees Chloe lock lips with Chicago.

After she walks away with Theo, trying her level best to carry on a conversation as if she's not affected by what she'd just seen; trying not to think of all the what-ifs.

After, on the plane back home, when she directs a small smile at Chloe's direction. If she's happy then she's happy for her.

It's the least she could do.)

 *

 Chloe's flight reaches the airport at 7 in the evening, and Beca's right there at LAX, waiting for her to emerge. She can see a couple of people with the big paparazzi cameras, training their lenses at her, but she doesn't care.

There's a flash of red as she sees Chloe running to her, and thankfully she catches her.

"Oh, I've missed you," Chloe says, so earnest and sincere as always; always, and Beca can hear her own heartbeat. She's almost worried that Chloe can too, like a traitorous Tell-Tale Heart.

"Yeah, well, regular sight for sore eyes, that's me." That's good, right? She hits jocularity right in the bullseye with that, as if she can't feel the top of her ears growing hot.

Chloe just laughs; like another kind of warmth. She draws her in again, hand rubbing up and down Beca's back.

Beca thinks she's stupid, for feeling like she's home.

 *

 They get to Beca's place, Chloe appraising the place appreciatively as she wheels her luggage in.

"This is already at least fifty times nicer than our little shoebox in Brooklyn," she observes, and Beca shrugs, a little embarrassed.

"I mean, the label's paying for it, and it's like, it's — it's ridiculous." There's a voice at the back of Beca's head repeating, our little shoebox, and she wants it to shut up.

But it is ridiculous. She has so much space, and two rooms; she sleeps in one and the other one is where she works. She's pretty sure she spends more time in the latter than she does the former.

"Anyway, uh, so here's my sort-of office, it's a bit of a mess right now." She waves her hand around (god, why is she using her hands so much) at the room with her equipment and instruments, before stepping to her bedroom door. "And here's the bedroom, which, like. You should take the bed. My couch pulls out and it's really comfortable?"

"Don't be silly," Chloe tells her, looking back at the king-sized bed. "We've slept in way more crowded spaces. This will be perfect."

Beca swallows, hard. Perfect.

 *

 Falling back into a routine with Chloe is scarily easy.

She's been here for less than three hours, and Beca's already back to being attuned to her. They put on some music in the background, she listens to Chloe talk so passionately about school and all the stuff she's learning, and Beca is so proud.

She brushes her teeth and changes into her pajamas after Chloe does, exactly like how they used to, and climbs into her bed.

"Oh, shoot, I almost forgot," Chloe's saying, and Beca cocks her head curiously to see what she's forgotten. Her best friend comes back with a box, and hands it over to her.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Bec. Also, I don't think flash drives are in fashion now," she winks. "So your Google Drive storage has been renewed, for all the audio files you need to back up. Don't worry, I didn't look at anything else."

"Wh — oh. Oh, right, Valentine's Day, gifts and all," Beca says, and looks at the box in her hand. "Wait, is this —"

"Chocolate from your favorite place in New York? Yessss," Chloe says, a laugh coloring her tone. She settles back into bed. "Not that you have a shortage of chocolate places here, but Amy reminded me of the time she ate most of the last box after how you were saving your favorite pieces, so I thought I'd bring some here for you."

Beca's heart clenches.

"Thanks, Chlo." She's pretty proud of how unwavering her voice is. "I miss it."

"It's been tough for me too, not having you in my orbit," Chloe says, bumping their shoulders together.

"Yeah? Must be extra tough, because Chicago's not around either." Then she's scrambling. "Not that I'm like, comparing myself to your boyfriend in any way."

She sees Chloe's mouth twist to the side. Beca's eyebrows knit together.

"Chlo?"

"He's not my boyfriend anymore." Chloe's words are slow, measured. Like she's afraid of setting something off.

Beca pauses, as she takes it all in.

"Oh. I mean — Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's been..." Beca sees Chloe's furrowed brows as she thinks. "Three months, almost. Just right before Christmas."

Beca thinks back to Christmas; to the group messages, the online gift cards and food deliveries made in each other's names. Nowhere in her memory exists this piece of information, and she's pretty sure she's not been that shitty of a friend to miss this.

It feels a little bit like being hurt, actually.

"Oookay," she says, licking her lips a little, letting the air out of her slowly. "Okay. Well. Good night, Chloe."

 *

 Beca can't fall asleep, and she's pretty sure she knows why. It's been an hour of staring at the ceiling, and she tries to will her stupid mind to shut down for the night.

She thinks Chloe must be asleep by now; her body clock must be three hours —

"Bec?"

Beca pauses for so long that she thinks Chloe might actually think she's asleep.

"Yeah."

She feels Chloe shift. "I want you to ask me."

Beca wants to be obtuse and frustrating; wants to pretend she doesn't know what she's talking about. Instead, the confusion and hurt win out.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, then into a sitting position. It doesn't feel like a conversation that they should have lying down. She waits for Chloe to do the same, before finding her voice and words.

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Chicago broke up?" Dimly lit by the street lights outside, Beca sees her shift in place, and she feels Chloe's hand reaching for hers. "I thought — well. You know. That we tell each other things."

Which is slightly rich, coming from her, she knows. But still.

Chloe sighs, just quietly. "Because I have feelings for someone else."

Beca blinks, taking that in. It's a weird feeling because she's simultaneously crushed and hopeful, and maybe it's the hour, or maybe it's Chloe's hand in hers, but as her eyes sweep across Chloe's face, Beca is emboldened.

She leans in, and time feels like it's slowing down as she closes the distance and presses her lips on Chloe's, roughly and then temperately.

Beca's not the most impulsive person. In the moments, though, when she is, they always leave her wondering if she'd done something stupid — like punching creepy middle-aged a cappella guys, like leaving in the middle of a fight, like pulling the girls up on stage during her solo set.

Like kissing Chloe Beale in her bed.

So she pulls back suddenly, as quickly as she had started it, an apology already stumbling out. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I just assumed, I'm so sor—"

Chloe makes a noise; something that sounds like no, her eyes so startlingly blue even in this light, and Beca freezes. She's sure her brain is working out some sort of rambling apology or excuse, maybe pass it off as a joke somehow?

But Chloe pulls her back in, both thumbs lightly touching Beca's cheekbones as she meets their lips again.

This second kiss is deeper, slower, more connected. It takes her breath away, as her hand curls at the back of Chloe's neck. Chloe tastes like mint and sweetness and sincerity, and a little like hopeless optimism on Beca's part.

A soft gasp escapes, and Chloe pulls away this time.

Beca has a tentative smile on her face, as she takes in a breath heavily; the questions written so plainly on her face.

Chloe's eyes shine.

"It's always been you, Beca."

 ------------

 v. 2020, Los Angeles, CA

 Having your anniversary on Valentine's Day is good. And bad.

Mostly good, because it means that Beca has that to help keep herself honest and not forget it, because it's impossible to.

Also, she won't forget, but, you know. Just in case.

Bad, especially last year, because it fell right around the Grammys weekend, and apparently when you're nominated and win pretty much... every single category you're in, that's kind of a big fucking deal.

(It started with Best New Artist, and by the time she's on that stage a fourth time, she literally had no other words and nothing but so much gratitude.)

But yeah, so last year's Valentine's Day-slash-anniversary was overwhelming. People contacting her from all corners, wanting to congratulate her and get some sound bites; the internet pouring both support, and scathing critique on her and her music.

Beca wishes she could say she rose above it, that she was as cool as her publicist thinks her to be.

Instead, Chloe had to deal with her, a stressful human ball of anxiety and nerves. Amazing, wonderful, sweet Chloe, just happy to be around her during these exciting and utterly vulnerable times.

 *

 This year, though. This year she's older and wiser.

Hopefully.

This year, the day falls on a Friday, but they've decided to celebrate it the next day and through the weekend instead, because Chloe has a seminar she needs to attend for school, and Theo had packed Beca's entire day with a long meeting.

Key word: had.

At 7 AM, as she wakes up groggily and checks her phone, the invite has disappeared from her calendar, presumably rescheduled for some other time. She vaguely notes the message from Theo about entire teams not being available, and Beca's not going to question the reason why, because she's immediately looking up flights to Ithaca and books the first one out.

 *

 (I'm not private jet rich, dude. Also, carbon footprint. Text to Amy, because of course.)

 *

 Here's her plan:

She'll make a beeline to Chloe's apartment (Beca's been here plenty of times, in the past couple of years; met her friends here in Cornell, hung out with them, appreciated that they're her support circle while she's here), and she'll say something incredibly dorky, and Chloe will kiss her, and then, they will properly celebrate.

God, the things Chloe can do with her mouth; the sounds Beca can get her to make.

Beca doesn’t even bother squirming in the plane seat.

 *

 Chloe I have a surprise!!!

Whereeee are you? 🥰🥰🥰

 *

 Here's what happens instead:

Beca has to fly back home — noun, the place where she lives; noun, Chloe — because while she was spending six hours flying east, Chloe had done the same in the opposite direction; her seminar being canceled (something about the professor being sick?).

She can't believe it.

Okay, she can maybe believe it.

God, the Bellas are going to have a field day with this.

 *

 In the group chat, Chloe's taken a selfie of herself in Beca’s apartment and captioned it: I flew here a day early to surprise Beca, but she flew to Cornell instead to surprise me too 😂

 Emily OMAG YOU GUYS that is SO CUTE!!!!!!

 Beca reads Emily's text, shaking her head, knowing that this is the younger girl's version of restraint.

 Flo One time I thought a guy was going to propose to his girlfriend on the plane, but turned out he was having a heart attack instead.

 Jessica&Ashley #justsoulmatethings

 *

 Rush hour in LA is so horrible, and it's nearly 8 PM when she finally gets back to her apartment. She jogs all the way from the Lyft to her door.

Beca never jogs.

Her own door flings open, and she sees the smiling face of the woman she loves.

"Flying cross country for me is so romantic."

"You did that too," Beca points out, a small smirk on her face.

"Yeah, but you did it twice." Chloe beams, and kisses her again, and again.

#bechloe #pitch perfect #bechloe fic #beca stupid mitchell #and her working through her feelings #kinda #(also please validate me) #my fic

[extremelyblackandwhite]

i wanna know what love is - 12

Pairing: rockstar! sebastian stan x writer!reader

Warnings: fighting and relationship abuse

A/N: sorry for not posting yesterday, was working til late and finishing some uni work so I didn’t even remember to post this. anyway, loving all the feedback, i’m so happy that i get to write for you guys. hope you enjoy xx

Last Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N loved proof reading her fellow colleagues articles, specially because she proof read senior writers articles. It was almost like a masterclass in how to write, how to tell a story, almost no gossiping, just pure good writing. This was the type of writing she wished she could do but there was still a very very long way to go. She stopped looking at her screen to look at her wall, trying to relax her eyes from reading twenty articles so far. Just because they were well written it didn’t mean she really cared about it. She loved writing about pop culture but if she could have anything in the whole world, she would be an essay writer for the New Yorker. However, to reach big dreams you gotta start small and she knew what she had to do. 

She had her headphones on, hitting her pencil against her knee as she read another chunk from another review on a new artists album. It was a rather easy job, just look for typos, look for repetitive words. She was basically an English Teacher correcting various reports. It was good to take her mind off Sebastian and Melody. Maybe Mary was right, maybe she did like him but that was something she did not want, at all. Falling for a rockstar is a rockie mistake, something she promised herself she wouldn’t do yet here she was. 

Y/N was about to fall asleep when a loud crash noise followed by arguing was heard through her walls. She jumped out of the bed, her robe on as she walked out of her bedroom, the sound of arguing getting louder. Mary and Fred were also out of their bedrooms, with very annoyed faces. 

     - It’s alright, Y/N. - Fred spoke as he noticed Y/N out of her bedroom, clearly worried about the arguing sounds. - It’s just Sebastian and Melody. 

    - Are they okay? - she walked over to Mary who was dressed in a baby doll, leaving no question as to why they were annoyed. They had just been, well, interrupted by the fight. 

    - Yeah, it’s normal. They fight a lot. - Mary put her arm around her. - It’s awful, always happens when I’m trying to get some. 

    - Shouldn’t we check on them?

    - No, honey. Things can get quite ugly between them and we don’t like to come in ... - another shattering sound came from the room where Sebastian was staying. Y/N made the choice in that moment to see what was happening and even despite Mary calling her and telling her not to get involved, she marched up to the room pushing the doors open and coming face to face with an incredible mess. There was shattered glass by Sebastian’s side and right now he had his hands up trying to reason with Melody who harshly turned her head to look at Y/N.

   - Do they not teach you manners in NY? - she had a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand and if Y/N didn’t know better, she would’ve thrown it. Y/N turned her head to look at Mary, gesturing at her to join her and the red head rolled her eyes before walking to her. - Four’s a crowd, girls.

   - Why don’t you come with me, honey? - Mary walked up to Melody, holding her by the arm and almost pushing her out of the room, leaving Y/N and Sebastian alone.

Sebastian took a step backwards, sitting on his bed, one half over his left cheek and the other on his forehead as he stared at the ground. The silence was enervating, even more enervating than when he poked fun of her. She walked over to him, taking a place next to him, not exactly knowing what had just happened or what to say. 

   - Are you alright? - she decided to ask a pretty neutral response. Knowing him as she knew him, he was either nice or harsh and she did not like it when he was harsh. He had a specific talent for being the meanest person when acting harsh. 

   - Yeah, I’m fine, Y/N. - he placed his hands on his thighs breathing out. Y/N noticed a small cut on his left cheek, bleeding. It wasn’t bleeding too much, but she understood why he had his left hand on his left cheek.  

   - C’mon, let’s clean that up. - she took his hand and walked over to the bathroom, carefully trying not to step on any glass. She knew there was a first aid kit somewhere in the bathroom and after snooping around every single cabinet and drawer she found a small red caboddle with a white sticker along with the red cross. She pulled it out and placed it on the sink, opening it and took out some antiseptic liquid, cotton rounds and a band-aid. 

Y/N told him to sit by the edge on the bath tube, opened the antiseptic liquid bottle and dipped a cotton round in the liquid. She started to clean the wound but, like a child, he just hissed and pushed her back.

  - That hurt. - he complained before she could ask why was he acting like a baby. - Warn a guy next time.

  - I thought rockstars were into pain. - she went back in again, a look in her eyes that scream don’t try to touch me. 

  - In bed not anywhere else. 

  - Next time we’ll clean your wounds in your bed. - Y/N rolled her eyes again, opening the bandaid and putting it over his wound. He smiled faintly, eyes going up slightly to stare at her as she cleaned up the surroundings. -  There, you’re all set.

  - Thanks, Y/N. - he tried to get up and return to his room but Y/N pushed him back into his seat. - What are you doing?

  - What happened, Sebastian? - she had her hand still on his shoulder, making sure he wouldn’t try and escape. Well, not that he didn’t have enough strength to overcome her hand. However, the look on her face made him weak, that look of worry that he hadn’t seen in ages. - There’s glass all over your room, you have a cut on your cheek, and I saw Melody holding a bottle. 

  - Maybe I like it rough. - he smirked at her but Y/N was far too smart to know that it wasn’t just rough stuff in the bedroom, specially because they were both fully clothed. - Y/N, I’m a big boy, I’m fine. 

  - That coming from your mouth sounds really filthy. - Y/N said, a sly little smile finding itself in her lips making Sebastian roar in laughter, throwing his head back. - Sebastian, we’re worried about you.

 - Who’s we? - he raised his eyebrow at her, one hand holding himself up on the bath tube rail. 

  - Me, Fred, Mary ... I’m not sure about the other boys but they probably are too. - she pushed her her hair behind her hair, hating that it always seemed to get in her peripheral view. - It’s not just a couple’s fight and you know that. 

   - Don’t worry about me, Y/N. - he got up, hand on the nape of his head. His head lower to stare at her, still sitting by the bath tube. - C’mon, don’t look like that. 

  - Like what? - she crossed her arms, standing on her feet to stare at him with a look he didn’t really enjoy. A look of at the same time deep care and disappointment. - That’s abuse, not fighting. 

  - You’re being too dramatic. - he mindlessly held her hair, his fingers intertwining with hers. - Besides, I’ve had my fair share of relationships, I know what to do. 

  - No, you don’t. - she took her hand away from him, holding it against the other hand that was resting against her stomach. 

  - Sebastian! - someone banged on the door, making Y/N silently swear under her breathe. She knew who it was and she was not gonna stand in the line of fire, therefore she removed herself from the room by taking the second door that lead to the hallway. Sebastian didn’t even have time to apologise to her as Melody walked into the room, pushing him against her chest and hugging him. It just didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel warm enough. - Baby, I’m so sorry. I lost my temper.

Y/N walked into her room and leaned against her door, breathing deeply. Her chest felt heavy, she didn’t feel good letting him be alone with her but there was nothing she could do. It wasn’t like she could call university services anymore and have them sit Melody and Sebastian down, it wasn’t like she could sit them down and have a talk. To be completely honest, she felt powerless and she didn’t know why she felt so powerless.

  - Honey. - she could feel someone knocking on the door behind her. - It’s Mary, honey. 

  - Everything alright, Mary? - she opened the door to see the redhead with a sad smile on her lips. 

  - I should be asking you that. - Mary came in and closed the door behind her, leaning against it. - You’re in deep, Y/N.

  - You saw what I saw. 

  - I saw that it bother you more than it bothers him. You know that he would dump her if you told him you liked him.

  - I don’t like him. - Y/N sat on her bed, staring at her friend. - And even if I did, he wouldn’t dump her for me. After all, the reason he’s leaving is because all the boys have someone.

  - Is that what he told you? - she furrowed her eyebrows, and took a seat next to her. 

  - That’s what I assumed. 

  - Honey, that’s not the reason he’s leaving. - Mary sighed. - He’s leaving because of what happened last year.

  - What happened last year?

  - He overdosed.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan one-shot #sebastian stan AU #seb stan #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine

[breakingsomething]

the fall - part two (evil jackie's back by popular demand)

basic summary: something's wrong with jackie, and marvin's going to find out what

trigger warnings: blood and injury, being kept in captivity, violence

something was definitely wrong with jackie.

all of them had noticed it recently. jackie came home late every night, sometimes shaking, sometimes completely nonverbal, sometimes being loud and brash and talking too much about nothing at all. once, chase told marvin he had seen him come in with a streak of blood on his face and when chase had pointed it out, jackie had gotten overly defensive and yelled at him to mind his own. none of them were able to properly speak to him without jackie shutting down. it was worrying, to say the least. marvin was afraid for him.

the day it all changed was the day he found jackie having a full blown panic attack on the kitchen floor.

"hey, hey, jackie!" marvin cried, racing to his brother's side and falling down next to him, careful not to touch him in case it set him off more. jackie struggled for breath, wrapping his arms around himself and ducking his face down into his knees. "jackie, breathe for me, k? what's up? did something - are you ok, are you hurt?"

"shut up," jackie gasped, shaking but still trying to push mavin away. "shut up, i'm fucking fine, leave me alone, please leave me alone."

marvin made a noise of protest. "bro, i can't leave you alone when you're in this state, i -"

"leave me the fuck alone!" jackie suddenly screamed, and he shoved marvin back so hard he fell into the kitchen table and smacked his head off the wooden legs. when he sat up again, jackie was frantically scrubbing tears from his burning face, desperately trying to hold back sobs and trembling.

marvin didn't know what to do. he had so much he suddenly wanted to say, but didn't know how to say it.

"i'm sorry," he eventually said softly. he twisted his hands together in his lap. "didn't mean to…"

jackie just turned his head away and said nothing.

enough was enough. marvin gathered his courage and spoke. "what's… jackie, what's been up with you lately? you've been acting so strange, me, henrik and chase were wondering -"

"oh, you guys are all talking behind my back, are you?" jackie spat, and marvin was horrified by the rage in his eyes. "talking about how weird i am, you think i'm g-going insane too?"

marvin shook his head rapidly, stunned. "jackie, no!" he said disbelievingly. "who - who said you were insane?"

jackie shoved his face into his knees and didn't respond, curling into himself and trembling.

marvin leaned forwards, biting his lip. "jackie," he murmured. "you're not - you're - jackie, we love you no matter what you do. ok? you're a good guy. you do good things. and no matter what you think is wrong with you, we'll be here to help you through it. you hear me?" he thought about putting a hand on jackie's back to reassure him, but decided against it. "we love you."

jackie still said nothing, so marvin stayed with him until he was more or less ok and he mumbled an excuse about needing to go see a friend of his before leaving the house.

marvin decided to follow him.

it was a rash decision; he gave it maybe thirty seconds of thought before doing it, which was more than he gave most things he did. all he had to do was cast a spell of invisibility on himself, which was a spell he'd discovered a couple months back and had been using to prank the others around the house. marvin considered using his more recently discovered soundlessness spell, but he still wasn't sure how it worked, and it turned out he didn't need to, either. jackie didn't appear to even know anyone was following him - he was walking quickly with a pair of headphones in, weaving through the streets and alleyways without a second thought. as they got deeper into the city, passing into the less crowded part where the graffiti on walls grew more frequent and the streetlights got dimmer, marvin began to worry that it had been a mistake to do this.

he was surprised when jackie stopped at a small, empty shop, looking dirty and abandoned. he glanced around to see if anyone was watching, looking right through marvin, before unlocking the door with a key hidden inside his wristbands and pushing his way inside. marvin dashed forward just quickly enough to catch the door and slipping in, only thinking for a brief moment that this was his last chance to back out before the door closed and jackie relocked it with a loud click. well, marvin was stuck in this now.

the shop looked very normal, shelves lining the walls and running through the centre of the room - the only odd thing was that they were completely empty, and everything was covered in a fine layer of dust and grime. marvin didn't get a lot of time to look around however, as jackie made an immediate beeline for the back of the shop and darted round the cash register to open a door that marvin hadn't even seen. marvin quickly went after him, the door almost closing on his ponytail before he could pull it through and gape at his new surroundings.

he was in a white hallway. a very long white hallway, like something he'd see in a science laboratory in a film, no windows or doors in sight except the big silver door at the end. marvin watched, open mouthed, as jackie punched in a code and went through, revealing - another hallway. what had jackie been doing in his spare time?

three more doors they went through, before they got to one that was seemingly bigger than the rest. the door was surrounded by weird science-y looking gadgets, which jackie used to scan his hand and type in several more things, most likely passwords of some sort. marvin tried to keep note of them in his mind, but there was so many numbers and letters that he couldn't keep track of. at this point, he was fucking terrified. part of him wished he could turn back and run back home to henrik and chase, just so he wouldn't have to see whatever jackie had been hiding from them.

when the door finally opened, marvin hesitated before following his brother inside. so much security for one sketchy place hidden underneath an abandoned store, and with the way jackie had been acting lately - marvin didn't want to think. didn't want to know. honestly, he hoped it was maybe some kind of weird secret hideout that he was keeping secret for some reason. maybe. maybe that was why he came here so often lately. marvin squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he went in, not wanting to face whatever it was he was going to see.

he regretted looking as soon as he did it.

a small room. no furniture. no windows. just a single light above the door and a man, a man who looked like he'd seen death and who was glaring up at jackie defiantly as soon as he came in. his face was bloody, plasters covering his mouth and greasy brown hair falling into his face. he was wearing a bloodstained grey t-shirt and ripped jeans, his arms handcuffed behind his back to a black pole on the wall. he had a bruise over one of his brown eyes, which glittered even in the dim lighting.

anti. anti. it was anti. anti who had stabbed marvin, anti who had kidnapped henrik, anti who had stolen chase's kids away. anti who had been jack's. anti who had ran away. it was anti. anti.

marvin was going to throw up.

without a word, jackie slung his bag off his back and tossed it to the floor, getting down and rooting through it for something. marvin could see and hear how heavily anti was breathing, making sharp whistling sounds and his chest rose and fell. fuck, it was really him. marvin stared at him and tried to swallow back the bile that was rising in his throat.

"here," jackie mumbled, and tossed something towards anti, causing him to flinch back, glitching in place. it was a sandwich, wrapped in clingfilm. next came a bottle of water with the label removed. anti blinked, and jackie stood again and made for the door.

anti whistled weakly, getting jackie to turn back round. "what?" then he noticed anti nodding towards his hands, making displeased sounds in his throat. jackie smirked. "oh, you need some help there, anti?"

he crouched down next to anti and snorted, pulling a knife from his back pocket and tapping it on anti's shoulder. "do you want me to take off the handcuffs so you can eat your food?"

marvin's heart raced. fuck, fuck, this couldn't be happening. this couldn't be his brother, his big brother couldn't be the one doing this. this had to be some kind of trick, some kind of fucking nightmare.

his brother was a kind man. a hero. he saved people, he hugged his brothers and brought them food when they were upset, he brought home treats and shared silly stories. he lifted chase's kids onto his back and ran around the garden with them so they could pretend they were flying. he cared. he loved. he didn't tie people up and hold them in a tiny, dark, locked room and beat them half to death - which, by the looks of anti, was definitely what must have happened. no, no. this couldn't be right. couldn't be real.

marvin jumped when he realized anti was staring right at him, eyes wide. he stepped to the side, gasping softly when anti's eyes followed him. he could see him somehow. how could anti see him?

jackie watched anti, then suddenly whipped round. marvin froze, his blood running cold. his only thought was that his spell had worn off and jackie could see him, could see he'd followed him here and seen what he'd done. he didn't dare to breathe, his head spinning with sickening fear.

"what were you looking at?" jackie demanded, whirling back round to anti. his face was red with rage, and in that moment, marvin didn't recognize his own brother. "what the fuck is the problem?"

anti raised an eyebrow, amusement sparkling in his eyes despite the whole situation. he still said nothing, and jackie let out a frustrated roar of anger. "you pathetic little fucking bitch, don't you dare try and mess with me!" he suddenly grabbed anti's face, and marvin had to clamp both hands over his mouth to keep himself from screaming. "you forget who's the one holding the knife now!"

he picked up his bag and stormed over to the door, his hand lighting up as he opened it. he left without another word, not even looking back.

this time, marvin didn't follow him.

instead, he slowly made his way over to where anti was sat, sinking to his knees next to him. "fuck, fuck," he almost sobbed, feeling tears prick his eyes as he saw just how bad anti had been injured. anti just rolled his eyes, making a face despite his many wounds and bandages.

marvin let down his invisibility spell and leaned in closer to anti, examining his injuries. "jesus shit, what - what happened?" he managed, feeling lightheaded. anti said nothing, just kept staring at marvin's face without a word.

marvin didn't know what to do.

this was anti. anti who had hurt henrik, who'd hurt chase, who'd hurt jamie. anti who had put their creator in a coma. jackie had to be keeping him here for a valid reason, he had to, he had to. marvin refused to consider any other option.

"mm, mm," anti tried, shaking his head. marvin bit his lip, attempting to blink the tears away. he couldn't be breaking down now. he had to keep it together. but it had suddenly hit marvin that this was really real, that he was here and so was anti, and that he had to make a decision.

gently, marvin touched the plasters on anti's mouth, noticing how he winced with pain despite barely being touched. "do you want me to take these off?" he asked softly, and anti shook his head rapidly, slamming his head back into the wall in an effort to get away. marvin held both his hands up beside his head. "ok, ok!" what had happened to anti to make him like this?

he reached behind anti to look at the handcuffs binding him to the wall. he also had a heavy chain wrapped round his neck that linked to the pipe as well. "fosgailte," he murmured, and the chains fell off, leaving anti to gasp for breath. more tears pricked marvin's eyes, and he paused to breathe too, wondering with anxious fear what he was going to do next.

anti kept staring at him, brown eyes boring into marvin. his right eye twitched, his whole body shaking slightly. he couldn't seem to stay entirely still. marvin stared back, balling his hands into fists and biting his lip.

"i don't know what to do," he said aloud. anti barely reacted, not even blinking. "shit, shit, this isn't right."

anti suddenly shuddered, groaning as his head fell to his chest. marvin's eyes fell to the food and water still on the floor, and with a jolt he remembered that he'd seen jackie making that same sandwich just this morning, before jackie's panic attack. they'd been laughing about some stupid news story about a dumb politician. marvin nearly threw up there and then, wondering dizzily how many other times something had happened right in front of him that he hadn't noticed.

"what - do - i'll -" marvin took a breath and tried again, making a noise of frustration. "ok, fuck. i'll take one of your hands out so you can eat, ok?"

because no matter what the reason was for keeping anti here, the way he was being treated definitely wasn't right.

he looked up at anti for confirmation. he stayed silent, but after a moment gave the tiniest of nods.

marvin wasn't a particularly soft man. he didn't fawn over babies or cute animals like chase and jackie did, and he didn't feel empathy the same way henrik did. but seeing the way anti immediately grabbed the sandwich as soon as one of his hands was released, undoing the clingfilm and facing away to undo the plasters on his mouth and eat, marvin felt a sudden rush of… something. something powerful burning in his chest. he wasn't sure if it was good or not. all he knew was that this wasn't right, that jackie wasn't right, that something must have gone wrong somewhere for his day to have gone from joking over the news to sitting in front of the man who'd kidnapped children and killed people, helping him eat for what could have been the first time in god knows how long. it was all he could do not to scream.

after he'd eaten, anti turned back round, the plasters reapplied. he didn't say anything at first. then he touched his fingertips to his chin and moved them outwards. "thank you."

marvin's breathing quickened. "why - why are you signing?" he said uncertainly, swallowing hard. "why can't you talk? why do you keep those plasters over your - talk to me, goddamnit!"

anti rolled his eyes again. "can't speak," he signed. "don't ask. red is keeping me here."

marvin suddenly stood, stepping back. "stop, stop," he gasped, clutching his head. "please, just talk to me, i know you can talk! what's happened to you, why are you here, what did you do? why is jackie - jackie would never - jackie would never -"

he sobbed, digging his nails into his skin as he covered his face and sank down against the door across from anti. "i don't understand, i don't know what to do."

anti tapped the floor, getting marvin to glance up. he was making the same two signs over and over again, staring at marvin deliberately. marvin knew what the signs meant, of course he did. he shook his head, biting the side of his hand to keep from screaming.

"no," he said firmly. "no, no, no, no, i can't do that, please, shut up. shut up, shut up. i don't understand, i don't know what to do."

"kill me," anti insisted. "red will be back tomorrow. i don't want to be here for that."

"i don't know why you're here!" marvin cried. he shook his hands wildly, panic rising even more. "jackie would - you probably fucking deserve to be here, given what you've done! i can't let you go, i can't do anything, not after what you did to my brothers!"

there was a pause. then anti let out a sharp breath through his nose. "is -- ok?"

marvin blinked tears away. "i - i didn't catch that second word."

anti made a noise. "d-a-p-p-e-r," he signed. "is he ok?"

marvin let his head hit the wall. "i don't have to tell you anything."

"please," anti said. the sign was very similar to thank you, marvin noted dimly. he'd never heard anti speak either word. "i have to know."

marvin scrambled up, grabbing at the door. he needed to get out, needed to get away from all this. it was too much to handle at once and he was literally going to have a full blown meltdown if he didn't get as far away from here as possible immediately.

"hmm, hmm!" anti vocalized, hitting the wall to get marvin's attention. marvin sobbed and blocked him out. jackie had used his light magic to get out, but marvin didn't have that. instead, he whispered his unlocking spell again, which miraculously worked, and darted into the hall. he turned back once to see anti, whose eyes were wide, shaking his head and hitting the wall behind him.

"i'm sorry!" marvin said desperately, already stepping back. "i'm sorry, i'll come back, i'm sorry!"

he slammed the door shut and didn't turn back.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #antisepticeye #the fall

[you-guys--are-losers]

I need a fic of MJ confused bc she feel good with both Brad and Peter but then Peter did something to get her mad and Brad ask her out she accepts but then she realized she is falling for Peter but hide her feelings till Ned set them up

//Well, I am happy to comply! I had a really good time writing this, and I am really pleased that this is gonna be the first bit of purely-FFH-inspired work that I’m posting. Here goes, and I hope that everyone enjoys! 

an informed decision

summary: mj isn’t the type of person to lead herself on, so she is able to recognize her limits and be realistic in the face of an unrequited, confusing crush. but not every opportunity is worth taking, and it’s up to mj to allow her experience to help her make a choice about what she wants.  

characters: michelle jones x peter parker, brad davis, ned leeds x betty brant, flash thompson, mr. harrington

word count: 4,361

warnings: a little bit of angst, awkward crushes, teenage confusion, the works

MJ’s crush on Peter Parker has been around for so long that, when something finally changes, she has no idea how to proceed

She isn’t sure exactly when it starts, but there’s definitely a change: he talks to her more, for one thing, and she’s never seen Peter this interested in decathlon

Sometimes, she’ll even walk up to Peter and Ned, and they’ll stop talking suddenly in a very suspicious way

But the really big thing that MJ notices is that sometimes when she turns instinctively to glance at Peter, she’ll find him already looking at her

MJ knows that someone else in her shoes would feel something positive: excitement, maybe, or at least satisfaction that she’s not the only one being observant

But the problem is that MJ can’t let herself feel those things

Her mind is much too loud and confused for that

For one, MJ isn’t sure that the reason he’s watching her is that he feels the same

Maybe he just figured out that she has a crush on him, and now he feels bad for her, and basically this whole thing is Peter Parker being a literal puppy and pitying her

That thought hurts, but MJ reminds herself that it’s much more likely than the alternative

But however much panic the thought induces, it’s a lot better than the thoughts she gets whenever she considers that he might like her back 

Because if he does? 

MJ is even more vulnerable than she ever has been before, and she is facing the terrifying thought of having to actually let someone in 

In the wake of the Blip, the mind game of it all is enough to drive MJ a little bit crazy 

There’s already a ton to think about: the Europe trip coming up that she somehow has to pay for, the fact that she returned to a family who thought they were done with children, and now that she’s back there’s nothing there for her, the endless craziness of facing college and the future after five years of being dead and having to enter a completely different pool of competition

And now, on top of all of that, she has to think about Peter Parker and his confusing mixed signals

She manages for a little while, at least– there are the weeks leading up to the trip, and through these, the stupid grin she sees so often on Peter’s face is enough to counterbalance the chaos of it all 

But as they get ready to board the plane, it all seems to be a little bit much

First, there’s Brad, and the fact that they’re both on the trip together makes him a little bit bolder

She’s caught him looking at her once or twice before, so it’s nothing too shocking, but all the help with her luggage and the casual jokes and the quick glances are an unexpected development, and one that she’s not quite sure how to deal with 

And then there’s the fact that, as soon as they get on the plane, Peter has to be all freaking confusing again 

She catches him staring as she puts her things away, which she guesses isn’t that different from being home

But then, after MJ is all situated and ready to spend the plane ride with the several true-crime novels she has in her carry-on, there’s a stir in the seats where Ned and Peter are, and in the space of a few minutes Peter’s developed a “perfume allergy” 

MJ has no idea where that one is coming from, especially because she had specifically heard Peter and Ned having conversations about what perfumes Liz wore during Peter’s thing for her sophomore year

Is it a ploy by Ned to get next to Betty, maybe? 

MJ isn’t sure, but what she does know is that it only adds to her confusion, and for a moment she gets her hopes up and thinks that maybe it has to do with her

The reality of it all, though, is that it only moves Peter further away, and suddenly MJ is sitting next to Brad

“Hi,” he greets her, and MJ looks him up and down for a moment

“Um, hey,” she replies after a second, sparing him a small smile

For a moment, the two of them lapse into an awkward silence, and then he offers her a little shrug

“So, it’s gonna be a long flight, huh?” he muses, glancing down at his watch and then back at her

“Yeah,” she confirms, eyes not leaving his face, “I mean, we are going across an ocean.” 

“I’ve never been the biggest fan of planes,” Brad admits, running a hand through his hair

“But then, I guess a good seat partner can make all the difference, huh?” 

MJ can tell that the smile he offers is supposed to get a reaction out of her, but this doesn’t feel like any crush she’s had in the past 

It’s not particularly wild or unsettling; in fact, MJ mostly feels a calm, collected sort of hesitation as she looks at him, considering him in her thoughts

He’s not her first choice, that’s for sure, and he never really has been; Brad is a bit too… much, sometimes, and he’s a little bit too perfect

He’s nice enough, though, so MJ decides that she’s not going to be a complete jerk

“Yeah, I guess so,” she agrees, allowing her posture to relax slightly as she buckles her seatbelt, letting out a breath

Giving someone new a shot couldn’t hurt, right? 

It’s not a bad decision to keep her options open

That’s why, when Brad offers to share his headphone jack with her, MJ says yes, and then they launch into a long stretch of comedy movies that effectively drowns out MJ’s confusion for a little while

That all changes, though, when MJ has to get up after her third plane-provided ginger ale

Because as the locked bathroom door opens, she finds herself face-to-face with Peter Parker

And before she even has a chance to make some stupid quip, Peter has slammed the door in her face

MJ blinks several times, staring at the door with her brain moving a mile a minute

And, through the flurry of feelings, one finally manages to surface as the dominant one: frustration

Some of it is with Peter, sure

Why does he have to be so confusing, all the time? Why does he have to make her heart skip a million beats a minute whenever she catches him looking her way, and why does he have to be the way he is? 

He’s made her past few months even more confusing than they needed to be in the wake of literally coming back from the dead, and MJ has had enough of the second guessing and the constant overthinking that he’s caused her

But more than that, she’s frustrated with herself

Because if all of this is because he knows she likes him, then she’s the one making him uncomfortable with unwanted advances, and that’s, like, breaking half the rules of feminism right 

And, more than anything, she’s the one who can’t seem to pull herself out of her own head

So, after using the bathroom at the front of the plane instead of the one in the back, MJ resolves herself that when Brad returns from his own bathroom trip, she’s going to focus on what’s ahead of her instead of what’s behind

Or, in this case, what’s sitting right next to her

For the rest of the plane ride, this does not turn out to be the worst decision she’s made

Sure, Brad is a bit vanilla for her liking, but then MJ doesn’t really have anything against some good vanilla bean ice cream

He’s playful, and he’s kind enough, and sure she could get her suitcase down by herself (and kind of wants to, since she’s got the books inside stacked in a very specific formation and he might disrupt it), but there’s no harm in it, and it’s the thought that counts

Right? 

Over the next couple days after they arrive in Venice, MJ allows herself to spend a little more time with Brad

It’s harmless, she reasons, and it’s trying to explore things a little bit

After all, she’s had this crush on Peter since her freshman year, and then another six years if you count the time she spent dead

So it’s healthy, she decides, to experiment a little bit, test how she feels with Peter Parker out of the equation

Or at least as far out of the equation as he can be

Because, even though MJ is talking more with Brad and letting him make her laugh, she still catches herself looking at Peter every so often out of instinct

And, when she does, it always makes her heart race a little bit to find him looking back at her 

This, she decides, is all the more reason to figure out who she is on her own

Sure, she’s talking to Brad, and when he makes the suggestion of maybe hanging out a little bit on their own after they get back, she doesn’t exactly say no

But what she doesn’t admit to Brad is that none of this is really about him, or even Peter Parker

MJ is making the decision to remove herself, a little bit, from the situation that has kept her on her toes for months now, and she’s doing it for her

Still, the more she tries to focus on the present, the more observant of Peter Parker MJ finds herself

As they spend their time in Venice, she can’t help but notice him ducking off at a lot of strange moments

Sure, she knows about his little arachnoid problem, but even at home he isn’t normally this busy with it

So why on earth would it be a problem in Europe, where there’s no neighborhood for him to protect? 

But it’s not just spidering stuff

Because MJ, for the first time since she’s decided to step back from everything, finds herself having a playful conversation with Peter while they walk around, and something about it seems too easy

He’s quick, and he keeps up with her thought process in a way that would take loads of explaining to Brad, and more than anything, he doesn’t try to fit her into any boxes or labels

It’s definitely some added confusion, so MJ finds herself grateful for the distraction when their tour is upgraded and they are tossed onto a bus the next morning

At least, until she finds out that her seat has been chosen for her

MJ has just finished putting her things away when she finds Brad sitting across the aisle, gesturing vehemently to her

And, though MJ knows it should feel good, something about it is a little draining

MJ takes the seat next to him, answering his cheerful, “What’s up?” with a noncommittal shrug

As soon as she takes her phone out to glance at the time, he does the same

“So, what do you wanna do for the ride?” Brad asks

The question makes it sound like they’re in it together, and suddenly MJ is slightly more self-conscious of her plans to dissect a few more books on the journey

“Uh, I mean, I was gonna try to get through this,” she admits, gesturing down at her book 

Is that the first time she’s ever pretended to be anything but enthusiastic about reading? 

“Oh, nice!” Brad responds, offering a little grin

MJ is relieved that the conversation seems to be over, but then he’s talking again

“So, what’s it about?” 

“Um, a series of killings in some woods back in the US.” 

“Oh, cool! So who did it?” 

“That’s the thing. No one’s really sure.” 

“Oh. So are you trying to figure it out?” 

“I mean, I have some thoughts. But I kind of like the open ending.” 

“Wait, so you don’t wanna know who did it?” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I just like the ambiguity of it.” 

“But, I mean, someone did do it.” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“So is it really ambiguous if there is a definitive answer?” 

“It is unless someone figures it out, which isn’t likely.” 

“Oh.” 

He does seem to quiet down after this so that she can get to reading her book, and Brad settles into fiddling on his phone

MJ gets in a bit of good reading time, then, and at their stop in Austria stop she even manages to go to use the restroom without Brad offering to accompany her

As they get back to the train, though, a change seems to have come over him, and it’s not a good one

As soon as MJ slides into the seat next to him, Brad settles into silence and begins to rifle through his phone

It’s the kind of silence meant to demand attention, however, complete with furtive glances in her direction; MJ does not plan on making any attempts to get information out of him, though– it’s not her style

Instead, she finds herself noticing a commotion with Peter

Flash seems to be harassing him over a pair of sunglasses, and between glances, MJ watches as Peter literally punches Flash, evidently on accident

MJ finds herself hiding a smirk in response to that, but she can’t seem to fully surrender to the mirth while Peter looks so panicked

In fact, she knows something is up when Peter desperately focuses on getting ahold of the glasses while getting in trouble with Mr. Harrington

Something is wrong, and, as MJ looks at Peter Parker, she realizes that he’s different than Brad

With Brad, she knows what’s going on in his mind, for the most part

He’s a very open person, which is healthy, she supposes, but it also takes out any interest MJ might have in trying to figure out how his brain works

Peter is the opposite

Because, even though it’s business that doesn’t involve her, MJ wants to understand what’s going on in his mind, and more than anything she wants to help 

After the ruckus has settled down, MJ has a lot to think about 

It doesn’t help that, from her side, Brad insists that he has some information on Peter that she needs to know, then goes searching through his phone again for it

“I promise, it’s here, I just need to look in a few more folders-” 

He comes up blank, but Brad insists to MJ that Peter isn’t who she thinks he is

It takes all of MJ’s self-restraint not to say, “No shit,” but she manages to keep quiet as Brad searches for whatever dirt he has on Peter

It is then, on the bus to Prague, that MJ knows two things for certain 

#1: Jealousy is not a good color on Brad Davis

And #2: Maybe the risks and complications involved with Peter Parker are worth the while

They arrive at the hotel in Prague that night, and MJ finds herself surrounded by an incredible amount of history and luxury, and with her own room nonetheless

They have a few hours to themselves, so MJ takes advantage of them and uses the time to take her time unpacking, to have a warm shower, and to wrap her mind around the events of the last few days, all while ignoring the numerous texts of Brad Davis

By the time she is done processing it, MJ is certain: the constant moving around on the trip has something to do with whatever has Peter running all over Europe in spandex

And, now that she’s had some time to think about it all, MJ knows that she wants to understand it

She tries not to think about her feelings for Peter; they’re complicated, and they’re extra work, and they’re risky enough to send her stomach jumping

So, for now, it’s better to just focus on the changing schedule: she wants to know what is happening, and why, and MJ is going to figure it out

She is fully prepared for this by the time that the group meets in the lobby after changing for the festival, and MJ knows exactly what it means when Mr. Harrington informs them that they’ve been given tickets at the opera

Though the rest of the group grumbles over being inside on one of the year’s most beautiful nights, MJ holds tight to the new nugget of knowledge she’s just received: 

Whatever has been going on? 

The next part of the saga is going down tonight

MJ tries to focus on this, but it’s a bit difficult as they all walk through the crowd to the opera house

Especially because, as MJ looks at Peter, she finds him staring at her with a stupid, dopey expression that sends her heart fluttering

As her eyes meet his on the way into the building, MJ’s chest hammers like a tom-tom, and that’s when a thought she’s been repressing for some time finally crosses her mind for the first time

Maybe, just maybe, it’s worth giving this a chance. 

“You look really pretty.” 

His stupid voice breaks MJ away from her thoughts as they enter the theatre, and she pauses as she turns to face him 

Though MJ manages to keep her face straight, she is pretty sure that a written transcript of the thoughts in her head would look something like “?!?!?!??!” 

She was expecting the same sort of thing that had been going on for the past month: some glances, weird, little smiles, maybe even a conversation about the stupidity of the plot

But this? 

This serves as an encouragement of the feelings that have been brewing in MJ’s chest for literal years, and it’s exactly the surreal sort of moment that makes her question whether or not she’s dreaming

MJ knows that, though her mind is racing, she needs to keep her cool

“Therefore I have value?” 

MJ arches an eyebrow as the question leaves her lips, scanning the face of the slightly shorter boy opposite her

He’s done his best to smooth those soft, brown curls that she likes so much, and his earnest eyes are completely focused on her 

They widen into a shocked expression that sends another twinge of panicked admiration through her chest, and MJ struggles to repress her amusement as he attempts to recover

“No, no,” he stammers, voice rising in pitch, “that’s not what I meant at all, I was just-” 

MJ can’t keep back a grin then, and for once, she doesn’t try to hide her smile as she replies, “I’m messing with you.” 

His eyes widen, and the relieved smile that slowly takes over his face is an expression that MJ decides she is going to commit to memory as she adds, “Thank you.” 

He stays silent for a moment, though, and MJ knows what she wants to say

Actually saying it, though, is going to take a bit more courage

So, after steeling herself, MJ cocks her head slightly to the side and murmurs, “You look pretty, too.” 

The moment might have stretched on longer, but Ned and Betty begin to fawn over the opera glasses from a short distance away, and Peter and MJ both turn to look 

As they look over the glasses, MJ finds a persistent thought dancing in her head, and as she glances back at Peter she knows what she wants

“Want to go in on a pair?” 

The suggestion leaves her lips before she gives herself a chance to pull it back, and MJ hates how nervous it sounds

Luckily, she can find some consolation in the fact that Peter looks just as nervous as she does when he looks back at her, but she can see the pleasure the suggestion brings him as well

He looks to the seats, then back at her, and the little smile that grows on Peter’s lips is enough to cause MJ to hold her breath

“You mean, uh, sit next to each other?” he confirms, and the stupid grin on Peter Parker’s frog mouth is making it far too difficult to think 

“Yeah,” MJ replies, the word coming out in a constricted voice as she fights to stay composed through the awkwardness

For a minute, Peter stares back at her, and MJ can’t help but think that the strange sort of awe in his eyes should not be allowed in public because it is far too disconcerting

Before she can get too caught up in the thought, though, Peter says something she was not anticipating

“No?” 

MJ knows her face is falling, and she quickly retreats back into herself

Right, right

This was a bad idea, and she was pushing it a little too far anyway, she tells herself, so it’s cool

She just needs to get through this conversation and then she can go regret it in her mind in silence

“Okay… No,” MJ repeats, taking a step back as she averts her gaze

“No, you don’t wanna sit next to me, or… No, you just don’t want the glasses?” 

She doesn’t know why she bothers confirming it, but she does know that the widening of Peter’s eyes does not seem to fit the situation, so she allows herself a glimmer of hope

Peter fumbles with something in his ear, and MJ tries not to get too optimistic about the situation as she realizes maybe, just maybe this has something to do with his bugsuit issues

“No, I-I didn’t mean that,” Peter confirms quickly, and MJ feels herself relaxing slightly

“I, uh… If you go ahead, I’ll go grab us a pair.” 

MJ tries to keep her smile from spreading, but it’s a bit difficult, so she offers him a quick nod as she breathes, “Okay,” in a tone that is a bit too relieved

MJ keeps her cool as she walks down the aisle, moving to settle in next to Ned and Betty

The couple is busy fawning over one another, and MJ is glad that they are caught up in their own little world as she fixes her eyes on the closed curtain

It gives her time to process what just happened… 

Because she just asked Peter Parker to sit by her, and he just said yes 

After several minutes, though Peter hasn’t returned, and MJ finds herself wrestling with the same confusing thoughts that followed her around in Queens 

Maybe, she tells herself, she made him uncomfortable by asking him to sit with her, and maybe he wasn’t sure how to react

But this time, as she thinks about it, something is different

Because, as MJ replays his reaction in her head, she knows that the hope in his eyes when she suggested it was not the response he would have had if he felt bad for her 

It’s what he would have done if he felt the same

A few minutes later, Ned turns to her after a brief time spent on his phone, and she can practically see the gears turning in Peter’s best friend’s head as he starts talking

“Look, uh, that was Peter, on the phone,” Ned says, gesturing to his device, “and he’s not… He’s not feeling well.” 

“Really?” MJ presses, raising an eyebrow

Her confident persona, now that Peter is gone, has returned, and she fixes Ned with a piercing look as she presses, “He was fine a minute ago.” 

“Yeah, uh, he came down with a really bad case of…” 

Ned trails off for a moment, glancing at her as if to see whether or not she’s paying attention; MJ fixes him with a sweet smile to let him know he’s not getting off the hook that easily 

“…Uh, the runs?” Ned finishes, and the poor excuse sends MJ’s heart soaring

Because, as both MJ and Ned know, Peter Parker is absolutely fine, and MJ was right: whatever is going on with Spider-Man, tonight is the culmination 

For a moment, MJ just rides that dopamine, letting it settle in: 

She was right. 

She’s been right for a long, long time

As the curtain rises and the lights fall, Ned manages to figure out what he’s saying, though

“But he wanted me to let you know he’s sorry, and, uh, he was really looking forward to spending time with you.” 

That part, MJ knows now, isn’t a lie

The show is beginning, and as she glances over to her side, she finds Brad moving to sit next to her 

“You deserve better than that,” he tells her in a ferocious whisper, and MJ studies him for a moment with a sharp, unrelenting gaze

She can tell, by the way Brad is looking at her, that he thinks he’s some sort of hero

He’s swooping in to save the damsel, determined to defend MJ’s pride and to “make it up to her,” healing all of the collective wounds he sees as being caused by Peter

But, as MJ looks at him, she knows now what’s wrong with Brad Davis: he’s been missing the point

Because, even if Peter had intentionally toyed with her feelings, it wouldn’t be Brad’s job to fix her

MJ doesn’t need fixing, and she doesn’t need anyone going through the work of making her understood 

MJ doesn’t need anything

But she wants acceptance, to be seen for who she is and respected for it, and that’s not something that Brad can give her

So, after a moment of beholding the boy sitting next to her, MJ stands up from her seat and slips into the aisle, walking up the stairs and out of the theatre

She can feel Brad’s eyes on her back, as well as the gazes of some of her classmates, but MJ can’t bring herself to care

Because this is about so much more than some school trip

This is MJ choosing Peter Parker, and not because of his feelings, but because of her own 

This is MJ going into the night, in pursuit of what she wants 

This? 

This is MJ making an informed decision.

#spidey #spideychelle #peter parker #michelle jones #brad davis #far from home #spiderman: far from home #spider-man far from home #sm:ffh #ffh #sm:hc #spiderman #spider man #spiderman2 #far from home spoiler #spiderman far from home spoilers #far from home spoilers #FFH spoilers #ffh spoiler #michelle #michelle jones x peter parker #Michelle x Peter #peter x mj #peter #mj x peter #peter mj #petermj #pj #michelle jones headcanon #michelle jones fanfic

[magpiemorality]

Are We Into It?! pt.4

The Arrival

Warnings: Slightly unsympathetic light sides, panic attack, arguments/unresolved conflict, Remus and his imagination (aka slight body horror & gore)

First | Previous

***

The flight was pleasantly short compared to some Thomas had taken before. Roman awoke with a start when the wheels hit the tarmac, jolted from his nap. He'd been having a great dream about robots or something, and he flipped his book open to watch the pages fill with words as fast as he could think them, music still blaring through his headphones.

He felt the weight of eyes on him and looked up to see Remus peering unashamedly at the pages watching story laying itself out, although it was currently stuttered to a halt. Remus met his eyes with a raised eyebrow, and opened his mouth to say something. Roman blinked when his brother's lips moved but no sound came out, only realising the problem when Remus flicked his headphones pointedly (not removing them himself and was that because he was being respectful- hah as if- or because Deceit had a tight grip of Remus' other hand? Roman wasn't sure) until Roman pushed them down.

"What?" He asked, a little short because he'd been interrupted. And because it was Remus interrupting him and his default reaction would always be irritation. Remus just pointed at the page with a chewed fingernail.

"It's good, but... when the robots get cut open there should be blood and guts and green oil everywhere revealing that the robots were created from humans all along and maybe the good guy isn't really on the good side and everyone is a victim and-" He stopped when Deceit squeezed his fingers hard in warning, but the words on the pages of Roman's book were off again all of a sudden with the prompt. He looked at it thoughtfully, mind whirring with the new ideas. When the red ink started to mix with green and run together in a bright orange, they looked at each other, and Remus found his grin returned for a brief second before Roman looked away and cleared his throat, swiftly affecting nonchalance.

"Yeah that's, it's kind of a cool idea I guess," he admitted with a forced casual tone, snapping the book shut, making Remus frown and Deceit sigh almost inaudibly and click his tongue. They were called to get off then, in a stroke of luck, and the conversation was tabled for another time.

Getting out of the airport was easier than getting in, and the taxi to their hotel was smooth, if a little slow. Everyone was focused on behaving themselves, tired after the early start and draining travel and entirely unwilling to snap the growing tension between them. Thomas didn't need a fight this early into his vacation, after all.

The hotel, when they arrived, was pretty great. Thomas was sharing a room with a friend so after some handwavey impossible physics (Roman's speciality; Logan's least favourite useful tool) the sides had a room appear beside their host's, and so what if it was maybe a little nicer and fancier than they should have been based on the rest of the decor of the place? Roman was going to vacation in style, thank you very much, and Patton had told him he could have a little fun with the design for once.

It would have been the source of a lot of excitement and joy had they not immediately run into the issue of who was sleeping where. All six stood in front of the first door and when it opened to reveal a grand total of just four beds Deceit fought the urge to make a sour face from the back of the group. Instead he waited for Roman to very awkwardly and uncomfortably stutter some excuse out and point to a hurriedly summoned second door opposite, making plaintive, terrible excuses for the mistake in the horrible silence that had fallen.

Liar.

Deceit sniffed and lifted his chin proudly. Remus, on his best behaviour, was clearly holding back his instinctive need to comment on the situation and managed to lead Deceit to their shared room before the situation could get any worse. Oh, but of course the second room wasn't quite as well thought through as the first, Deceit thought viciously to himself- that wasn't to say it was actively unpleasant, but it was plain and clearly not created with quite the same level of care and attention as Roman's first attempt.

It was impossible not to explode as soon as the door shut behind them, and Deceit found himself quickly falling into a stream of hissed fury, pacing around the room cursing the goddamn light sides and their goddamn prejudices. Remus watched, torn between delight at the brutal honesty of the words pouring out and wanting to ameliorate the situation. Hah, what a thought- him making things better!

It took a while for the furious side to calm down, ending his tirade with a spectacularly dramatic flop onto the bed, face first into a pillow. He groaned loudly, only to yelp when something hit him in the back of the head. He sat up sharply, seeing Remus with a morningstar-shaped pillow held aloft and ready for a second strike, beaming wildly, ready to distract his friend out of his funk. With a smooth move Deceit manifested a surprise third arm to reach behind him for the pillow on his bed, catching the attack Remus swung at him with a fourth when it came down. They fell into battle, pillows flying and ripping and reappearing magically on the bed to be grabbed for new ammo when it was needed. Deceit's arms were a blurred force as he hurled soft projectile after soft projectile at Remus, who had somehow taken several bruises and cuts despite the lack of a single edge on their weapons.

The whole thing came to a slow end, both sides breathless with laughter and tired from exertion. They stood facing each other, feathers floating everywhere like snow, and Remus caught one on his tongue to snack on, before calling uncle and flopping on his back to make a snow angel in the debris that liberally coated the floor. He sneakily tugged on Deceit's ankle so he was forced to collapse beside him and he turned to look at Remus after a minute of thinking, giving him a grateful smile when the other side looked back. It was plain in Deceit's eyes that he appreciated the diversion and the simple fun. Remus might never admit it but he was a good friend.

"You gotta have a pillow fight while you're on vacation, Dee, it's the rules!" Remus told him, but the softness of his eyes betrayed his real motive and Deceit just snorted softly at the white lie and gave him a brief, tight hug, before getting up to unpack for them both.

---

"You can't have just forgotten!" Virgil was hissing at Roman while they also unpacked. The suite had somehow enlarged itself once the other two had left, and where there had been a large room with four beds there was now a suite with two double rooms equipped with en-suites and a living area. It was excessive, if you asked Virgil, but they hadn't asked Virgil. Roman hadn't asked anyone before getting started, and Patton's permission to 'go wild' didn't count. "That's ridiculous. They were literally sitting with you the entire flight! They've been with us all day! Remus was sat on your foot in the taxi!"

"Well I did, so what do you want me to say?!" Roman snapped back, cheeks flushed with what Virgil hoped was shame. God he hoped Roman felt bad, because if he didn't then there was a lot he'd have to reconsider about the light side. Okay, so Roman hadn't exactly had an easy time with accepting him in the early days, but if he hadn't learned his lesson with the whole Accepting Anxiety debacle then it only showed that he was exactly as prejudiced as before, and for whatever reason he just considered Virgil exempt of that prejudice. Which... was a bit yikes.

"I want you to say you're sorry about it! Accept what you did, okay? Please!"

"'Please'?! Why are you so upset about this anyway? They're just-"

"Just what, Roman." Virgil glared at him, hackles well up. He knew exactly what Roman was going to say. Just dark sides. Just the bad guys. Just less important than us. Just like him. "Just. What."

The air crackled and darkened until both Patton and Logan came running in, seeing the shadows that were creeping in from Virgil's corner of the room. Roman was stood, hands balled into fists but head down.

"Gosh, kiddos, what in the name of cookies is going on?!" Patton exclaimed, pushing between them and laying a hand on a shoulder each. Logan pushed his glasses up firmly and eyed the shadows. "Kiddos?" Patton repeated when no one answered him. Roman shrugged, eyes still locked with Virgil's.

He glanced at Patton and let his hands relax. "Nothing, Pops, it's all good. Virgil was just-"

The darkness coiled and Virgil took a step back, forcing Patton's hand to drop. "I was just trying to understand why Roman felt the need to cut out the others. It wasn't very good of him, right Princey?" Roman bared his teeth defensively and Virgil narrowed his eyes.

"Good gosh, there's a lot of frustration here isn't there!" Patton laughed, sounding nervous. "Now why don't we all go sit down and talk about this? What's got you wound up tighter than a jack in the box, Virgil?"

"He left them out deliberately!"

"I did not!"

"Yes, you-"

"Patton I don't believe this is very productive-"

"What would you like me to do, Lo?! I don't think colouring books and fidget cubes are quite going to work here!" Patton cried desperately over the continued noise of arguing. Logan sighed and clapped his hands and the room rang out with the sharp crack of sound and then fell quiet at last. "That's better, thank you," Logan said with satisfaction. He stepped forwards, pushing first Roman back to sit on his bed, and then Virgil to his. Patton made himself comfortable in the conveniently placed plush armchair, sitting up and clasping his hands together as he attentively waited for Logan to fix the whole mess.

Which he would, of course. Virgil kept on glaring hotly at Roman, clutching the edge of the mattress with white knuckles. Roman refused to look up from the carpet even when Logan spoke to them.

"This can't continue. We are here to enjoy a vacation with and for Thomas. Do we remember Thomas?" Logan raised an eyebrow and Patton (being the only one looking at him) winced and squirmed under the full force of Logan's truly excellent disapproval. "Now, quickly and concisely, Roman would you explain what the issue is from your perspective please?"

Virgil and Roman began talking at once as Virgil's betrayed expression turned on Logan instead and Roman tried to do as he was told.

"You're asking him first?! Of course you are! I don't know why I expected any better it's not like anyone know what a fair trial is-" The tempest tongue unleashed and he clapped a hand to his mouth in shock. It had been a long while since that had happened...

Roman's reply had trailed off and they were all staring at Virgil. So many eyes, so much judgement, so much attention and focus and it was bad bad bad he was in trouble he was in danger he was-

"You're having a panic attack, Virgil, remember your breathing." Logan's voice cut through the voices long enough for him to start to follow his advice. But the damage had been done; Virgil could feel Thomas in the next room sitting down heavily on his bed and clutching at his chest as he tried to calm himself. Virgil cowered, covering his face with his hands and wishing they'd never come on this stupid trip. Wishing, even if it was petty and childish and cruel, that Deceit and Remus hadn't picked now to try and force the issue of their involvement all of a sudden. Couldn't they have just done it his way and slowly but surely encroached on video time until the others got to know them and accept them? They should have known it would turn out badly this way.

Patton and Roman were gone from the room when he came back to himself, the rushing of his heartbeat in his ears clearing to let the quiet ticking of the bedside clock and the traffic noises from outside fade back in. Logan blinked at him from the opposite bed where he'd apparently perched to talk Virgil through the attack. He tried to smile but from Logan's expression it was clear it hadn't been very convincing. The other side cleared his throat softly and placed his hands on his knees. "Virgil, Roman explained somewhat. I know you probably have a different opinion on what occurred and your reasons for the altercation between the two of you," he was speaking carefully, too carefully, and Virgil had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what came next... "So what we've decided is that the subject is better tabled for the duration of the holiday. We can return to it upon our arrival home, when our emotions will least impact Thomas and his social life. Do you agree?"

No, I don't, was what Virgil wanted to say. We should sort this out and clear the air and- no, now wasn't really the time. As Logan said; the light sides had decided. His agreement was secondary.

So he nodded and waited for Logan to leave with a small smile and a nod, before curling up in his temporary bed with his headphones to try and drown out the uncertainties ringing so loudly in his ears. When Patton stuck his head in to say they were going out to explore and get some dinner he ignored the summons, pretending to be asleep until he heard the main door click shut.

Good; at least now he could get some real rest. God knew he would need it to survive the stay...

– Next

#writepie #ts sanders sides #ts writing #ts sanders sides aus #ts sanders sides fic #ts deceit #ts patton #ts roman #ts remus #ts logan #ts virgil #platonic DR LAMP #are we into it?! #slightly unsympathetic light sides #tw panic attack #tw body horror #tw gore

[thinkingagain]

Unseen and unheard, a lone figure in black commando gear appeared on the Demesne. He had seen the portal coordinate trick before, several times, in non-animal situations. He scoffed at the inexperienced commando team taken in by it.

Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest (A Novel of the Revolution) Book Three: The Be Attitudes Chapter 21

Lucky Blue took off his headphones and looked at Jack. “It worked. Easily and effectively.” Beside him, the Demesne underground technology was humming along.

“And maybe not for the last time,” Jack rubbed one of his long legs in the dust to clean it. “Movie sets have lots of uses. Abandoned ones too.”

“I see how they come in handy,” Lucky said. “Just a quick intercept and alteration of portal coordinates removes a whole assault force with no effort at all.”

“The likeness is pretty exact,” Jack said. “Green Bear spared no expense on the recreation. Not that the land and landscaping cost more than a tiny bit of the resources he has.”

“I’d like to go up there some time,” Lucky said. “Walk around, really check it out.”

“You could hike up in about two days. It’s a pleasant walk.”

“Maybe I will,” Lucky said. “I haven’t taken any long walks in a while.”

Jack nodded. “It’s a nice night here, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Seems so anyway. I’m off to sleep in a moment.” His rabbit limbs drew themselves up more anxiously. “Think the Sir is going to be okay?”

Lucky shook his head. “I don’t know. Nobody does.”

----

Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest lay, asleep, on the grounds of the Demesne that he loved so well. His breathing came harshly at moments, in strained gasps, then would calm. He was obviously in pain. As far as anyone around him could tell though, he didn’t seem to be dying. It was good that he was able to sleep.

After having done his best to help him survive, Love Frog had gone off for his own long sleep in one of his favorite nearby muddy ponds, throwing mud over himself like a healing ointment. Madam, with Busterella beside her and Sir Henry patrolling nearby, had insisted on being first to watch the Sir. She had stayed by his side for a few hours until she got too tired. Now Matilda was sitting there, providing her power, serenity, and healing nature. Young Mountain Goat, necessary for quickness in case of attack, was sleeping close by. Macalister and Smoochie, both obviously used to night frog duty, had taken over guarding the nearby terrain.

The Sir breathed on, unevenly, oblivious to all who cared for him.

----

Unseen and unheard, a lone figure in black commando gear appeared on the Demesne. He had seen the portal coordinate trick before, several times, in non-animal situations. He scoffed at the inexperienced commando team taken in by it. He could work better without them. Those who had been decoyed would be his decoys. He headed where he had to go, avoiding straight lines that would make him easier to follow. No one had ever followed him successfully. Finding him accidentally had several times been deadly to others.

----

Ling Ling, Leo, and Maximillian were talking quietly on a patch of ground behind some stones. ‘I can’t read him right now at all.” Ling Ling shook her head sadly. “His mind is far away.”

“Perhaps it has to be.” Leo stretched his legs along the ground. “The animal mind often seeks a larger vista when removed from immediate practical concerns. Or when it is struggling to recover or seeking a reason to live.”

“The news has gotten out fast.” Maximillian was standing at rest the way penguins do. “Good wishes for the Sir are pouring in from many points of contact.”

“Good animal wishes always help.” Ling Ling nodded cautiously. “The air is full with them. But do they help enough?”

“We’ll find out,” Leo said.

“You’re really able to remain philosophical about it.” Ling Ling said, no sassiness in her voice. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.”

“Thinking can’t be all that important if you can’t use it during a bad time,” Leo said. “It should never come without feeling, of course. I’m worried too.”

Maximillian shook tension from his flippers. “All these animals we know, all over the world, and sometimes not one of us can do anything. I guess there are limits even to our magic powers.”

“More of them than we realize,” Leo said.

----

There was much consternation in the technology control room at Animal Unlimited. “Nothing?” the Nephew was saying to the other Beasts in the room huddled tightly by their monitors. “Abandoned? How can that be?” He looked around the room, waiting. No answers came. “And what about…?” He stopped, but the others seemed to know what he was referring to.

In the air vents, three cats were listening. They heard the hanging question and waited for some Beast in the control room to answer it. No answer came.

----

With the Sir gravely hurt, there was no one to watch the Demesne Beast except Muffin.

The Beast’s behavior had been notable since shortly after the wounded Sir had been brought back to the Demesne. Muttering to itself, occasionally sighing then emitting long groans: that was hardly exceptional. Still its quivering and discomfort seemed different. It kept looking around as if asking if it could be of help. Muffin tried to calm it, patting its back, scratching its head, rapping it on the nose if it seemed tempted to howl. Even late into the night the Beast still rolled on the ground, agitated in its sleep.

“Is it possible,” Muffin said to it softly, “that you are concerned about the Sir?”

In its sleep the Beast rolled over and mumbled, “Nobody loves me.”

----

“Lampy can’t sleep,” Koala Lampur said to Little Sy. “Looks like you can’t either.” Nearby, the shadow of a few high rocks was slightly darker than the night sky.

“I dropped off for a few hours.” Sy’s expression was bleary. “So much to organize tomorrow. But it’s not that. I just feel uneasy.”

“I understand.” Koala Lampur gave Sy a soothing scratch. “I don’t know if our hoping helps him. But it may help us, and not hoping can’t help anyone.”

“But ma, there’s something else.” Little Lampur spoke up adamantly. “I saw it. Or no, I didn’t see it. Felt it.”

Koala Lampur went taut with alertness. “You did?” She looked at Sy. “Lampy’s very sensitive. He saved us on our travels more than once.”

Sy considered Little Lampur’s adamant stance. “What do you feel now?”

“Nothing,” Little Lampur said. “But I did.”

----

He had managed to achieve a kind of anti-fame that had helped him become indispensable in many conflicts either with animals or with others of his kind. Almost no one knew of him. Some knew of his efforts without knowing who had performed them. Some attributed his actions to various sources, some to one unknown source. The few who knew of him knew no name for him. They invented names for him, but none of their names were his. No one knew his history.

He could hear animals at least as well as they could hear him as long as the range wasn’t too great. And he had much more experience than many of them. He listened to the sounds of those who were guarding nearby in the night. Whenever they came near to sensing him, he slipped away.

----

Madam startled awake. She was holding Busterella tightly. That brave koala had helped her go to sleep and was sleeping soundly herself but woke the instant after Madam did. Sir Henry the Valiant, standing in his sleep nearby, rustled also. “Something is terrible,” Madam said, then she was fully awake, remembering. “Can we go sit with him again?” she asked her two friends.

----

“You understand,” Leo said to Ling Ling and Maximillian, “that it’s not the quality of leadership that can never be replaced. It’s the unique individual animal, the whole bundle of traits by which each of us is marked as like no other before us and none after.

“It is, I think, proof of the magic of the universe. Qualities may be interchangeable, but the combination of them is, for each, unique over the whole vastness of space and time. None of us, as wise as we might think ourselves, could have imagined the Sir. He can only imagine himself. And much of who he is, like all of us, lies beyond even his own imagination.”

----

“They’ve all returned and reported,” a Beast in the technology control room said to the Nephew, who had just walked in. “Except the one.”

“And what have you heard from him?”

“Still nothing.”

“We’ll hear from him,” the Nephew said, “if he succeeds and wants to be paid. And if he doesn’t succeed, who cares whether we hear from him?”

The three cats in the air vents looked at each other. Clearly at least one Beast was still operating in the field. One of the cats rushed off towards the outside, hoping to reach a spot where Ling Ling could be contacted.

----

Madam, with Busterella and Henry beside her, walked up to the Sir. She scratched Matilda’s back and said, “I’d like to watch some more.” Matilda grunted sympathetically and walked over to where Young Mountain Goat was sleeping and lay down next to him. Madam waved at Macalister and Smoochie. They waved back. Smoochie came up and gave her a quick frog kiss. She found a soft spot in the grass and sat there, her totem friends beside her, watching the Sir breathe.

----

Through the woods, he came to the final set of trees that opened onto the field where his target lay under blankets, asleep and struggling to breathe. Next to his target sat an actual human woman; he startled, only for a moment. His heat-seeking goggles showed her outline clearly. He sensed the frogs on lookout, noting their alertness, and felt their senses kick in. He moved just beyond their range, preparing to come in at another angle.

----

Macalister saw Smoochie snap alert before he himself noticed anything. He felt the other vibration a moment later. Was a Beast lurking somewhere? An instant short of certainty, the impression vanished. If it was a Beast, it had made the smallest impression of itself that Macalister had ever encountered. Still, a small impression was not no impression. Macalister signaled that he would investigate and that Smoochie should stay by the Sir and alert those nearby.

----

They knew he might be there on the Demesne, he could tell. They didn’t know for sure. They certainly didn’t know where exactly on the grounds he was. His rifle, which he had assembled soon after arriving on the Demesne grounds, was ready. He knew what spot he had to reach in order to make his final preparations.

----

Jack and Lucky walked out of the Magic Animal Underground Bunker. Jack’s long jackrabbit ears jumped out fully and his nose went alert. “Know what I’m thinking?”

Lucky, whose physical senses had been dulled by his work and had never been as acute as other rabbits, saw Jack’s alertness. “Maybe.”

“We got rid of them too easily.”

“Yes,” Lucky said, instantly sure.

“And also,” Jack said, “there ought to be at least something lumbering around out here. It’s too quiet.”

----

He put himself in the spot he needed. He set his balance, both with his body and with the rifle. He could be in this spot for maybe, at most, two minutes, before one of the animals would sense him. When he moved again, to the shooting spot, they would know; there was no way to do that unnoticed. There would be only the few seconds between when he arrived at the shooting spot and when they did. That was more than he needed.

----

Young Mountain Goat heard the rustling and knew instantly, even from sleep, what kind of creature it was. Then he was fully awake and on his feet.

Busterella, whose only concern had been the Madam, saw her goat friend and followed him.

Searching a bit farther out in the woods, Macalister and Smoochie heard the others get in motion and turned in the direction their friends were running. At that instant, they both noted the presence of the Beast they had thought might be there.

Farther away, Jack, with Lucky Blue beside him, sensed sudden animal desperation from many spots. “We’re already too late. Hurry.”

----

“Wait,” Ling Ling said to Leo. “Message coming through.” Leo paused, questioning. Ling Ling listened inside herself, then she looked outward. “News from the cats at Animal Love Unlimited. There may be a Beast here.”

“And none of us has noticed?”

“I guess not yet. Let me check.”

----

Animals were charging him from multiple directions, only instants away.

The green point of light moved for a moment over the blanket, then settled directly onto the target’s forehead. The mechanism locked in.

His finger found the trigger at the same moment that he felt right next to him, without hearing it, a tiny animal. He hadn’t detected it under the comparative roar of the others. The same small animal thudded lightly against the side of the barrel just as his finger touched the trigger. It was impossible to know which happened first. He saw the shot tear through the blanket inches beside the target.

He rolled all the way over, once, setting up for another clear shot. A somewhat bigger animal, hardly large, kicked the barrel a few inches to the right.

He let go of the rifle and got to his feet just as other animals, a half dozen or more, surrounded his spot in the leaves.

----

“Lampy!” Koala Lampur shouted, the discarded rifle at her feet. “Where are you?”

“Right here, Ma. I told you, didn’t I? I stopped the shot, didn’t I? I’m sorry I didn’t let you know before I ran. I hoped you’d realize. I hoped you’d follow me. There was no extra time at all.”

“I didn’t know, not for sure. But I followed you.”

“Was it you who kicked the gun away? I got covered in leaves.”

“It was,” she said.

----

Young Mountain Goat slammed his head into the Beast’s shoulder, knocking it to the ground. It was already rolling before the hit happened. It spun quickly to its feet and darted behind a tree.

Busterella spun around behind the tree, punching furiously. Only one punch landed as the Beast darted away.

Smoochie jumped in behind the Beast’s knees. Macalister pushed it backwards. Just before the Beast started to fall, it managed an awkward backflip and landed on its feet. There was a pistol in its hand. It raised the pistol. Covering the last yards in nearly no time, Jack took a long jump into the air and kicked the pistol from the Beast’s hand. Jack landed, turned, steadied himself for another jump, this one to go for the jugular.

The Beast dived behind a tree, rolled, jumped up, disappeared behind several trees.

All the animals converged on the spot, nearly at once.

The Beast was gone.

The animals saw several sets of Beast boot prints. The prints showed no clear direction for the Beast’s escape.

----

Through the commotion, the Sir slept on, his breathing coming more easily for longer stretches of time, and the gasping ending more quickly.

----

Within minutes, all the animals had gathered to talk about what had happened.

“I never saw a Beast move like that,” Jack said. “As quick as any of us.”

“Not quite quick enough to outsmart Little Lampy,” Koala Lampur said.

The other animals heartily agreed. Little Lampur’s sensitivity and response time had saved the Sir.

“Still,” Sy held out a paw of thanks to Little Lampur, who grasped it happily, “a Beast quick enough to elude us all? Not a good development.”

“Our own magic has gotten stronger,” Leo said cryptically.

“Meaning?” Sy asked.

“Meaning,” Leo said, “that it’s inevitable that some of the counter-magic will get stronger too. We don’t know, right now, where this Beast, with its clear sensory-superiority to other Beasts, has come from. But we haven’t seen it for the last time. And others like it may be coming.”

#bunny #rabbit #revolution #empire #satire #animals #animal rights #politics #adventure #theory #fantasy #science fiction #environmentalism #wisdom #wisdom text #leadership #sir sleepy

[empressxmachina]

by Imperial-Radiance (that’s me :D) | On DeviantArt  | Also On Wattpad 

   Time was passing, and Madi felt like her chances of being found were slowly declining with it. 

    She was sure that it was now too late for any normal N.U. patron to just walk around. But she also knew that anyone on the losing team itself, especially the coaches, had pretty much free reign to enter whenever, and whether the K.U. teams’ visiting reservations had expired already was unknown. 

    The facility was so grandiose, and the doors in the locker room to the halls were soundproofing as far as she knew. She assumed the latter since no one came in and called out her team’s antics in there before the game, despite them being absolutely loud and proud, and she could only wonder how they were after winning. So, there was no way for her to know whether someone was coming or if people were, possibly still, fighting outside.

    Madi didn’t think of Jake as an idiot or anything; however, she didn’t believe that he or any of the team was clever enough to pack a non-K.U.-affiliated set of clothes to walk and talk around inconspicuously like she did for Cari. Thus, if any Nashers were just as heated now as they were before and approached him, then there was a high probability of him getting caught in a brawl of his own. Madi prayed that that wasn’t the case for him so he could find her. Meanwhile, she hoped it wasn’t so calm that any passersby would think nothing of the locker room and lock its doors and trap her in. 

    She had enough reasons to be generally anxious about, well, everything, and she didn’t need this to be more of a horror story. 

    In a move to keep her mind off such awful ideas, including the recently cyclical and grossly petty thought of a Knight finding her and holding her for threat-laced ransom, she decided to tiredly trek across the gummy floor, re-collect her scattered things together, huddle in the corner of a leg of a bench, and play some music on her phone with its battery coming in clutch. 

    Although her size was now alien, the music allowed her to keep some semblances of humanity and happiness since the only thing that changed about it was its volume. Yet, that wasn’t a concern, either. Despite her phone being as diminished as she was, its earbuds had kept their snug fit and crisp sound. Though, she was positive that if she removed them from their audio jack, then their sounds would carry through the room as much as her voice did, aka not at all.

    Nevertheless, Madi kept her cool as well as she could, jamming out until a song that she had remembered being chill suddenly had a budding interjection of bass, sort of like a drum solo. It went well with the beat, but the last thing she needed at the moment was to be shaken by surprise from big vibrations. She looked at her phone to see if she had accidentally downloaded a remix, and she hadn’t. It wasn't until more bass came through that Madi was influenced to remove the buds and realized what was happening.

    The song was inaudible, yet the resonations stayed, encompassing her. Someone had finally entered the locker room.

    Aside from the distant, echoing squeaks of sneakers entering and the door closing behind them, the room was quiet. Yet, Madi would’ve bet that one would’ve been able to hear a pin drop before her voice if she spoke. It was too risky to just speak out or run into the light again. So, she waited for identification, and she found herself on a lucky streak.

    “Madi?” the familiar but magnified voice of Jake asked with resonance. “Are you in here?”

    “Y-Yes!” she cried in reply, leaning out into the open with her phone in hand and earbuds dragging across the tacky tiles behind her. “I’m here!”

    In her attempt to be rescued, the cup-sized cheerleader verified how powerless she was. Her voice didn't even bounce off the nearest locker or reverberate in the hollow underside of the bench. That, or too much was in her way of him to reach him. Either way, it was unsurprising when Jake called out for her again.

    “Mads?” he tried a second time, scurrying down the section of the locker room opposite and most distant from Madi to search. “Come on, now. Where are you, girl?” Madi could hear him jogging through the rows of lockers, getting further and further away from her and groaning along the way. “This is not the time for hide-and-seek. Give me something to work with.”

    “I-I am, damn it! I'm not even close to playing a game right now!” Madi understood his frustrations, but hers were much worse. 

    To try marching to the end of her row to get closer to him, Madi started by detaching herself from the gross ground. The farther she went down the lane, the more she could hear her friend coming back up toward the intersection of lockers where the entrance stood. When she finally reached the end of the locker chain, Jake simultaneously arrived back at the beginning of his. Although he wasn’t in open view, back in front of the door, she was still finally able to see a semblance of his immense form, now on a godly level. 

    His facial features were too far away for Madi to perceive in a good resolution, but she could make out the top of a hat peeking over the tops of the lockers without Jake stretching. Meanwhile, Madi could barely reach the lower groove of one of their doors with her arms raised. But she didn't stop trying to get his attention, now flailing around like a marionette. At one point, she could tell that Jake had turned his head in her direction, and Madi's heart nearly exploded from hope and over-inflation.

    “Does… Does he finally see me… or hear me, even?” she wondered, thirsting for release from this hell. 

    He lingered toward her side of the room for a lengthy amount of time, pulling at her heartstrings as he appeared to pull various poses of confusion in the chilled air above her. However, her hopes dropped when his eyes didn’t lock on hers and he began going toward the exit.

    “Madeline Yu,” Jake started with a dark undertone, glancing down the first few rows on Madi’s side, barely being able to view further than the third pair of lockers on each and not even caring about it, “I swear to God if you are not in that last locker room, then I’m having your ass!” 

    Usually, Madi only heard Jake get heated like that in a late-night bedroom. But being out in the open and at such a small size, even if he didn’t know it, made him appear even more intimidating, almost hell-bent on punishing her. 

    “My cred on the field tonight is not going to save me from being fucking benched or some shit!” he continued. “Do you even know what I had to say for them to even let me come out here!?”

    Madi hadn’t wanted Jake to lie, but she hoped that he didn't tell anyone anything too ridiculous. Yet, no matter what he said, it could never compare to the reality that was her shrunken self. Still, Jake was obviously angered, and if he stayed true to his tendencies, then it wouldn't be long before he stormed off. So, Madi had to figure something out quickly. 

    “For fuck’s sake, Jake!” she huffed, having to turn around and run to the other side of the aisle to even see him now. “Of all the times I’ve asked you to be a little bitch for me, you save your cue for right now!?” 

    As Madi ran along the lockers' sides, she could hear slams on metal, assumed to be Jake going back, doing a final once-over, rushing said search, and gripping on the corners of lockers to peek around them. If they both kept up their paces, then it wouldn't be too long before their sights intersected. However, just as she hoped wouldn't happen, the clanging stopped, and an echoing, exasperated sigh signaled Jake's forfeit. 

    “I'm not doing this!” he announced, throwing his hands up in defeat and disappointment and re-approaching the door. “There is nothing you could do that’s worth me making a fucking fool of myself!”  

    “No, no, Jake! Please!” Madi shrilled as she heard his footfalls begin to retreat away from her. Her pace back the other way hastened to fight his much longer strides but not without consequence. 

    That quickened pace resulted in her encountering the minefield that was the sea of spilled soda much faster than she would've hypothesized. With all her focus on getting to her now more humongous friend, it had been of little priority, despite a few millimeters of it probably being enough to down her outside and drown her inside. If she wasn't careful, then that was what it was going to do, as the itty-bitty beauty suddenly lost her balance and slipped, with her foot and ankle getting stuck on a particularly tacky but invisible spot. 

    Once again, she found herself wading in a bubbly batch, re-soaking her previously hardened cheerleading wear.

    Gritting her teeth through the sprain in her ankle, she pushed up from the ground with one hand sunken in the Gak-like goop. Her other hand gripped her phone with its lengthy earbuds dangling behind it, now sticky and wet yet still playing barely audible tunes. Looking down at them gave her a one-shot-one-opportunity idea that was just insane enough to possibly work. Jake couldn’t hear her, but he could probably hear her phone.

    “For the love of all things good,” Madi begged, clasping both hands over her heart, “please let those two semesters of Physics have some clout at this moment.” 

    Madi stared down her target in the distance: the stagnant slice of her carcinogen of a soda can. Its pop-top faced her and its cut that separated the two halves and flooded the floor. Channeling the spirits of both the football team and the baseball team, she yanked her headphones out of their jack, focused on the skateboard-sized sipping hole, and threw her now music-blasting phone toward it in a spin and at a speed that any coach of any sport would've been proud of. 

    Its flight through the air even impressed Madi, only having dealt with balls of a sporting nature on occasion. However, when the phone went right through its goal as she wanted, she couldn’t immediately celebrate with a touchdown dance. 

    Music was no longer playing. She didn’t think she had paused her playlist, and she didn’t hear the phone break on impact, but all she got back was silence. Not even an ad. 

    Quiet was her only companion, and thus her entire act of technical prowess was marked useless, making her wonder why she didn’t just try calling Jake again since that had obviously worked. With a presence lost in the wind and hopes shattered, there wasn’t anything else she could do. As the footsteps of her only chance of liberation grew further and further away to meet the creaking of an opening door, Madi dropped down to her knees and flopped back into the puddle of pop, her falling tears muffled by face-shadowing hands yet harmonizing with the retreating bass. 

    But just before the final boom of a door closing should’ve come, drowning out Madi’s minuscule whimpers, something else broke through the relative silence. Bouncing off the aluminum and inner plastic of the slashed cylinder, finally, after faulty buffering, the sound waves of a song from way-back-when rang.

    The melody didn’t even have to finish its introduction to be instantly recognizable, and Jake, due to karaoke at orientation years ago, matched it right to a certain someone. 

    “Oh. So, you want me to find you, now?” he laughed, reclosing the cracked door and backing back into the room. “You know I can’t resist a sweet throwback, even one as poppy as this.” 

    Re-facing the expanse and the unseen music performance, he crossed his arms over his chest and began a new exploration, scanning the area for where the music was coming from or, more importantly, any sight of Madi. Through his refined searching, it was proving true, to his surprise, that the sound wasn’t emanating from any speaker Nash had, and his friend still wasn’t visible. 

    If her face wasn’t dripping in carbonated cola, causing her to really feel like the after-party garbage she thought she was, Madi would’ve laughed at his playful comments. Nonetheless, she praised the heavens for her luck ex machina. Now realizing that the chances of him finding her increased tenfold, she jumped to shake off excess brownness from her upper half, let adrenaline and hope distract her from her sprain, and trudge toward her phone to be more noticeable. Since the can had magnified the phone’s volume, she was confident it could magnify hers as well.

    The question now was if she could even reach its opening and get to it.

    “This can’t go on for too much longer, Mads,” Jake sighed, continuing the hunt. “If the cheerleaders left behind one of their own, then my team can easily do the same to me.” 

    As true as his remarks were and the vexation in his voice was apparent, Jake still had his friend’s safety as number one. She was here, or he was being played like a fiddle, and he wasn’t going to leave until he found out which was the truth. 

    With the cheerful tunes of younger years as a signal or a siren’s song, he pressed on, passing rows one-by-one, curiosity as high as he was tall. “Where in the hell are you?” 

    As Jake traversed deeper into the locker room, the music grew louder, dampening his footfalls, much to his liking. However, when it seemed to be coming from right next to him – right in front of him, once he turned to face it – no electronic appliance was visible, and neither was Madi. All that he was met with was a soda can’s suicide. 

    The husk of its metal body was split in two as its syrup blood spread in all directions. Yet, the music was apparent, somehow calling out to him by his feet. Despite how unusual it was, logic was pulling Jake only one way. So, that’s where he went, squatting with his heels down toward the sound.

    The volume of the song increased as he did so, and moving some hair out the way of his ears only raised it more. With the new level of stimuli, however, what Jake didn’t expect to see was where it was coming from. 

    Through a withdrawn squint, he made out a small box making music and ripples in a tiny crater of liquid within the top half of the can. It was obviously more than just a box, but its size couldn’t have been larger than his fingernail or the now-closed piercing he thought was a good idea to get in high school. He rationalized the idea of the sounds bouncing off the can’s insides, yet the technological marvel still shouldn’t have been as loud as it was. 

    Jake began to reach and pinch it up for further inspection, partially fearful that he’d crush it upon contact, but he paused when he got distracted by another unexpected sight: some sort of tiny tendril flopping around through the can’s drinking opening. 

    The jock sat in awe of the tiny tentacle of sorts wiggling back and forth – a stamen of a flower with no stem in sight. While its narrowness resembled that of a sewing pin, its fluidity was like ribbon. Yet, there was something corporeal about it as it seemed driven to grab something, and the bitty box just in front of it looked like that thing. He considered pushing the box closer to the flailing feeler but thought against it in the end. The box had to be Madi’s, whatever it was, and until he found her, it was his. 

    All the while, Jake didn’t miss how the wee waver also appeared to be intentionally avoiding the hole’s surrounding edges as if it didn’t want to hurt itself, exemplifying some inner intelligence and keeping his eyes glued to it. Such an anomaly the animate vine was, intriguing enough for him to want to save its image and research it another day. But before capturing it on his phone’s camera came to mind, a new sight caught his eye. There was more to the flapping frond that just its calculated wiggles. 

    Despite it being soda-coated, Jake, somehow, made out a golden hue across its surface, one a bit too comparable to that of the pullover he was wearing.

    More curious than ever now, Jake had to see this thing up close. Yet, he was too cautious to not make a move for it. After all, he wasn’t sure what it was. If it became necessary, then he could’ve easily used any of his lanky appendages to swipe, kick, or crush the minute limb or whatever being it was connected to. Though, he truly hoped it wouldn’t ever have to come to that. His broad, bulky stature told one story, but Jake was mostly a gentle soul, only ever bouncing back on a person if they bounced on him first in every sense of the term. With this thing, however, the odds of an attack appeared to be on his side, and he gambled on that confidence by leaning forward to get a better view, looking past the rim of its surrounding can to see what he was dealing with.

    What he got was the last thing he ever expected, but it made Madi’s mania all the more valid. 

    A bantam hip of fallow hue with a sliver of an onyx etching down it peeked out from under a regal violet and gold covering. An intricately stitched and detailed piece of fabric that wrapped around and fully shielded a pair of taut glutes except for in a slit on the side that had been turned too far. Their crests fittingly marked the apex and start of two sculpted legs, complete with socks and shoes. Up from the hip, a sea of ebony, chocolate-streaked waves connected at a crown where two other tiny appendages popped out: arms, of which one of them whipped and wound like the snakelike creature Jake had thought it was.

    It just seemed too bizarre to be real – everything about the night had been like a dream – but this didn’t feel like a fantasy. He knew that figure anywhere, yet it was akin to a figurine now, one able to hide behind any of his fingers. Even so, he couldn’t mistake that ass. 

    The varsity co-ed uniform, even in its stained state, was recognizable enough, but with the long, flowing hair, the music, and those cakes, it just screamed ‘Madeline’. All the nicknames he’d given her regarding their previously just-slightly-more-than-a-ruler’s-length height difference had a whole, new meaning now if his eyes weren’t deceiving him. However, there was only one way to find out for sure, and he hoped, thinking about how her body should be working, he wouldn’t make her go deaf… if he already hadn’t. 

     “Madi?”

#g/t #my writing #sideline #sw #giant male #college #university #they're totally fwb's if you couldn't tell

[youiswhoisyou]

Unsaid - Joeck FanFiction

(This is purely fictitious and means no harm to irl people)

The first big group trip in a while was upon them. The mates, Josh, Caspar, and Oli had planned a trip to Sydney, Australia for some much needed down time with all vlogging equipment away. Their partners included, the mates also invited Joe and Dianne on the trip. Unknown to Joe, they also invited Jack, who wasn’t told of Joe and Dianne either. 

Everyone knew something had gone down between the two of them, even if Joe and Jack never actually said what. Caspar and Josh had noticed the sudden change when Joe told them about Dianne. Suddenly, Joe had a girlfriend and Jack was nowhere to be seen. Busy schedules were blamed whenever one of them brought it up to Joe or Jack, but they weren’t even talking  anymore.

So comes the plan to get both Joe and Jack on the trip, forcing them to interact. It sounded like a solid plan to Caspar and Josh. The boys would hash out any problems, maybe some heated words, but ultimately get back to good ole friendship.

When the morning came to head to the airport, Josh and his girlfriend, Oli and his girlfriend, and Jack would take an earlier flight than Caspar, his girlfriend, and Joe and Dianne. That way, Joe or Jack couldn’t back out right before take-off. It was hard keeping the secret on the very long flight to Sydney. Josh accidentally mentioned Joe and Dianne during a conversation with Jack. 

   “Well, Joe said the parasailing was sick so we’ll probably give it a go again,” Josh said.

   Jack looked at him, “Joe?”

   Josh quickly tried to correct himself, “Yea, joe said when he was in Sydney, he loved parasailing the coast. He told me to check it out myself,” he said.

   Jack bought the lie and turned back to his movie, “Oh, ok. We should do it then,” he put his headphones back on.

Josh returned to his own show and slowed his heart rate back down. He pulled out his phone and told Caspar what had just happened.

   Mate I almost f@cked up big time! I mentioned Joe and Jack got weird. 

   Dude! I asked about Jack and Joe clammed up again.

   WTF is going on with them???

   We’ll Find out soon bro

They made it to the mansion without any problems. Everyone drew papers for which rooms were there’s. Josh drew for Caspar and made sure there was one room left for Joe. Jack managed to pull a decent room this time. He went up the stairs to put his things down and change out of his flying gear. After changing, he walked out onto his own private balcony that overlooked the massive pool in their back garden. The mansion was placed on a hillside with Sydney and the afternoon sun stretching out before them. Jack loved these trips when the views were once in a lifetime. He heard noise and looked down at the pool. Josh, Oli, and their girlfriends were already trying it out.

   “Jack! C’mon! Pool time buddy!” Caspar called up to him.

   “Yea, man!” Jack yelled back and went to change.

His tan wasn’t worthy of being called a tan so he did a quick dip in the pool then lounged himself in the sun with his shorts pulled up. Josh and Oli played some water jousting with their girlfriends on their shoulders holding pool noodles. Jack peeked at them a few times, noticing the ease each of them had with the other. He turned his head away and soon felt himself drifting off.

   “Heyoooo!” A voice came from the backdoors.

Jack’s eyes shot open. He hoped what he heard was in his head and not reality, but a second later he got his answer.

   “Josh, get your toosh out the pool and show us where our rooms are!” Joe started walking towards the pool. Josh rocketed out of the water and rammed himself into Joe before he could get far enough to see Jack in his lounge chair staying stone still.

   “Hey mate! Of course, I’ll show you and Caspar and company to your rooms,” Josh laughed as Joe pulled his damp shirt away from his torso. He led them back into the house and up the stairs.

Jack was still stuck in a waking nightmare and couldn’t bring himself to move. Oli noticed that Jacks eyes were wide open and waded over to the edge of the pool.

   “Jack? You alright, man?” Oli said.

   Jack blinked a few times then sat himself up and slid his legs to one side, placing them on the hot concrete, “Why didn’t anyone tell me Joe and Dianne were coming?”

   “Well, Jack mate, we knew you’d back out if we told you,” Oli said, “Maybe you two can talk now. Get through your issues.”

Jack stood up and went for the backdoor to find a better hiding place or better yet, call a taxi to take him back to the airport.

Joe and Dianne were walking around their room which happened to be right beside Jack’s but much smaller. Joe went to the windows and looked down. He watched a glistening Jack get up and walk inside. His ears caught the far off sound of the backdoors slamming shut.

   Without turning from the windows, Joe spoke in a hushed tone, “Jack’s here,” he said.

   “Oh yea, he is. I must’ve forgotten to mention it,” Josh said. He rubbed his back to relieve the tension. Him and Caspar exchanged worried expressions.

Joe asked Josh and Caspar to give him and Dianne some privacy for a moment, so they left the room. Joe closed and locked the door behind them. Josh and Caspar rushed back down stairs and out to the pool, but Jack was gone.

   “Where’d he go?!” Caspar yelled at Oli.

   “He went back inside the house. I think I saw him run for your side of the house,” Oli said.

Josh ran back inside and went to his room. The door was locked. 

   He held his ear to the door and heard jack’s voice, “Jack? What are you doing in my room with the door locked dude?”

   Jack stopped talking and opened the door, “I’m hiding and  calling a taxi. I’m going back,” he said as he continued to pace and give details to a taxi service.

   Caspar came in behind Josh and watched Jack pacing, “You’re not flying all the way back to England an hour after you got here, Jack,” Caspar came closer to him. 

   “Yes, I am,” Jack held the phone away from his ear. Hold music played, “You don’t know what happened and making us ‘work it out’ by forcing us together was a stupid bloody plan.”

   Josh motioned to Caspar to leave the room and they went back into the hallway. 

   “We can’t let him leave,” Caspar said.

   “Should we tell Joe what Jack’s doing then?”

   Caspar sighed heavily, “We don’t even know what’s going on with him and Dianne right now.”

   “Well, I’m going back up there and telling him about Jack,” Josh said.

He took the stairs two at a time and stopped in front of Joe and Dianne’s still locked door. He could hear Joe arguing with Dianne. Josh thought he heard Joe say they needed to leave.

   Josh knocked loudly, “Joe? Mate, I need to talk to you.”

He heard them rush through some more arguing before the door finally opened up and Joe looked at him with anger and annoyance plastered to his face.

   “What do you want, Josh?”

   “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I need to talk to you,” Josh looked to Dianne, “alone, if that’s alright.”

Dianne shrugged and left the room. Josh closed the door and turned back to Joe already getting his things back together.

   “What the hell happened that you and Jack would rather take 22 hour flights back to England than be in the same room?” Josh said.

   “Look, it’s really complicated and can’t be fixed over one trip to Australia,” Joe put a hand through his hair, “Dianne won’t let me leave though,” he braced himself on the back of a chair with his head hanging down.

   “Joe, Jack’s already booking his way back. I think you need to have a talk with him before he finally gets a taxi to drive all the way out here,” Josh said.

Joe didn’t move fore several seconds, then breathed in deep and walked for the door. 

Jack had been on hold since the boys found him trying to leave. His bare feet had made a light path in the carpet. It was getting cold in the room with the sun setting fast and he was still in just his swim trunks. The hold music was some kind of cheesy jazz lounge music. He finally stopped pacing and looked out of the window and down at the city he would hopefully be leaving in a couple hours. Through the loud saxophone and piano in his ear, Jack heard his name. He didn’t turn around.

   “Jack,” the voice said again, louder.

Jack removed the phone from his ear and cancelled the call.

   “How’ve you been, mate? Joe walked in further. Behind him, Josh and Caspar sneakily closed the door and went to busy Dianne and the rest of the crew to give Joe and Jack time.

   Jack didn’t want to turn around, “Alright...you?” he said.

   “Yea, good. Just finished doing the tour with Di.”

   “Oh, cool. Bet that was fun,” Jack mumbled.

   “Jack, would you just turn around.”

Jack obliged slowly and moved his eyes to the carpet just in front of Joe’s feet.

   “Now look at me,” Joe said a little softer.

Jack trailed Joe’s body all the way up. He noticed Joe had more muscles and a darker color to him. He looked good, Happy. Until Jack met his tormented blue eyes.

   The words came before he knew what he was saying, “I can’t be here with you and Dianne.”

   “Why?”

   Jack moved closer, “You know why. You know what you did, Joe.”

   “We never said anything about what we were. How was I supposed to know how you really felt if you didn’t tell me?” Joe said.

   “I thought the last night we were together was a good teller.”

   “I didn’t plan my feelings for Dianne,” he said,”And when you didn’t give me a reason to stay....I guess I let it go.”

   Jack moved to within inches of Joe’s face, “I called you. I went to your dances and stood after every one. I was there, but you ignored me,” Jack’s voice was damaged, angered, “you stopped answering and then told everyone about your new girlfriend. what was I supposed to do then?”

   Joe moved away and put his back to Jack, “Maybe I just wasn’t ready to go there,” he turned back, “You’re the first guy and maybe I wasn’t ready. And maybe you were. It’s just poor timing,” Joe said.

Jack gave a sarcastic laugh and moved back to the other side of the room. Joe watched him shuffle around with his hands on his hips.

   “Maybe you’ll always be too scared to tell everyone, but it’s 2019. Does Dianne not even know?” Jack shot back.

   “There’s nothing to tell, Jack. We had a thing and now it’s over,” Joe said.

   Jack went to him again, “Nothing? You’re calling months of sneaking off from our friends and secret hotel rooms nothing? You’re saying it was all just a fun bi-curious game for you?”

   Joe moved back a step, “Yea, that’s all it was,” he swallowed.

   “So...this,” Jack brushed his fingers down Joe’s torso, “this has no effect on you anymore?” He whispered.

   Joe stopped breathing and let Jack’s hand fall all they way down to his hip before pushing Jack away, “you can’t do that anymore. I’m with Dianne. I have real feelings for her,” he said, “I’m not giving that up just because you got attached.” He walked towards the door.

   “Attached? you’re the one who can’t let go! Why don’t we just see what the mates think about it, huh?” Jack pushed past Joe and ran for the backdoor where he could hear laughing and splashing. He arrived at the side of the pool a little out of breath and with Joe right behind him.

   “Hey! I have an announcement to make!” Everyone stopped and stared at Jack and the crazy expression on his face, “All of you have no idea what’s been going on with Joe and myself, but tried to help us ‘fix it’ by getting us far away from home together,” Jack caught his breath and looked back at Joe. He looked dangerously angry, but his eyes held the most fear Jack had ever seen. He turned back to their friends, “Well, I’m happy to reveal...I’ll be leaving on the next flight back to London. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday.” He moved past Joe and back into the house, up the stairs and into his room. For a moment he felt a very big weight lift from his body. Then, he fell onto his knees and started crying. He held his head between his hands and bent over, swallowing every breath in a sob.

   Joe looked at the shock and confusion spread across his friends faces. He rubbed his head and shrugged, “Some things can’t be fixed so easily, but nice try mates,” Joe said with no humor in his voice. He went back inside, leaving everyone to mumble to themselves about what just happened. Joe was stood in the kitchen taking deep breaths when he heard a loud thud and agonizing broken sobs bleed through the ceiling. He rushed up the stairs and into Jack’s room to find him folded in on himself struggling to breathe.

   “What the hell happened? Did you hit something?” Joe asked, coming over next to Jack.

Jack jumped up and away from him into a corner, “You happened! You let me think you felt things for me and then you ripped it all away!” he choked on his tears, “You can’t even admit you felt anything at all. I...I thought...” Jack cried.

   “What?” Joe asked, moving closer to him like Jack was a scared animal.

   Jack stilled himself and looked into Joe’s eyes, “I can’t believe I thought I was falling in love with you,” he said. He shook his head and shoved Joe out of the way to the door. He stopped short when he saw Josh standing in the doorway. Caspar, Oli, and the girls right behind him listening in.

   “Jack. Jack!” Joe called after Jack rushing past everyone. 

   Dianne stopped Joe in the hallway, “Was that true? Did you have a thing with him?” Her tone wasn’t demanding, but curious and worried.

   Joe rubbed her shoulder, “I’ll find you later. I’ve gotta sort this out,” he kissed her cheek quickly and went after Jack.

Joe found him walking down the road in only his swim trunks. The deep sunset cast everything in otherworldly elongated shadows. Jack’s pre-bleached hair caught the falling rays, making a light halo appear over his head.

   Joe jogged to catch up with him, “You’re not leaving until we talk about what you said, Jack,” Joe said.

   “Why? A few minutes ago, you wanted to leave too,” Jack said.

   “I did, until you said you loved me.”

   “I said I was falling in love with you, not that I was,” he mumbled.

   “And the difference is?” Joe said and turned him around, “Point is you were getting really serious feelings and I trudged all over them,” he put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, “I should’ve come to you. I should’ve asked you how you really felt.”

   “And I should’ve told you,” Jack said.

Joe pulled him into a hug. Their chests pressing tighter together with each breath. Jack rest his chin in the nape of Joe’s neck, breathing him in.

   “Everyone knows about us now,” Jack whispered.

   “Technically, they know you fell in love with me, not what I felt,” Joe teased, then looked at Jack’s still broken face and sighed, “We’ll explain what happened when we get back to the house. I’ll tell them.”

They returned to their embrace for a few more moments before breaking away and heading for the house. After a few paces, Jack stopped. Joe kept walking until he noticed and turned back to him.

   “How did you feel?” jack asked.

   joe walked back to him, “I...I think I was getting there,” he shrugged, “but it didn’t feel like real life to me. Like I could see how much you cared and it felt like a dream,” he lowered his head.

   “So, you just...woke up,” Jack said.

   “I didn’t think I could stay in that dream. I didn’t know I could’ve made it real.”

They looked at each other, the ghosts of their feelings mirrored in each of their faces. 

   “I’m so sorry, Jack,” joe finally said.

   “Me too.”

#joeck #fanfic #love #heartbreak #fight #joe and jack #over

[writingarchangels]

God Bless Kale (Destiel)

Pairing: Dean X Castiel

Word count: 2.6K

Triggers: madness, kale

Castiel has been appointed with the task to watch over Jack... but then he manages to lose him. Gabriel might be at fault. Might.

“Are you sure that you will be fine on your own?” Sam asked Castiel, frowning in concern.

“Yes, Sam. I will be fine,” Castiel replied with a nod. Mary had called the brothers and said she needed help with something, so Sam and Dean were going to join up with her on a hunt. Castiel had offered to go as well, to stay by their side and aid them to the best of his abilities, but someone had to stay behind to watch Jack - whom was still a child in the ways that mattered the most. “Do call me if you end up needing my help with anything,” he added, at which Sam nodded.

The angel stood in the doorway and watched the hunter go towards the Impala - where Dean was doing something by the trunk. He was probably putting in their bags and the like. Sam got in the car, and after a while, the tires screeched over the asphalt and they drove off. Castiel watched them go until they disappeared behind the horizon.

Unable to see his friends anymore, Castiel turned back into the house with the intention of finding Jack and seeing what the Nephilim would be up to.

“Jack?” He called out, having closed the door behind himself.

“I’m here!” Jack’s voice called out.

Following the sound of the voice - and the pulse of celestial power he could sense - he eventually found himself in the kitchen. Jack has seated himself at the kitchen table with Sam’s laptop in front of him and wearing a pair of red headphones. He appeared to be watching something on the laptop. Moving to stand behind the child, the angel took a peek at what he was watching, a frown forming on his face.

It was an animated program with a yellow sponge and a pink star... Castiel did not understand just what he was seeing.

Pausing the program, Jack removed his headphones and gave him a smile. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi, Jack,” Castiel replied. “What are you watching?” He blurted out, unable to help himself.

“I’m not sure,” the Nephilim replied, “but it’s funny.”

“How are your powers?”

Jack glanced back at the screen. “Nothing strange has happened yet today, so that’s good.”

“Is there something that you would want me to get for you?” Castiel asked almost awkwardly. It had been a few weeks since Jack bought him back from The Empty, and the angel was trying his best to form a bond with the young Nephilim. He wanted Jack to like him, to look up to him. To see him as family. He had promised Kelly that he would watch over her son and protect him, and he was about to keep that promise.

Jack seemed to think about his question for a while, tilting his head in a way that was much like an angel’s. “Can you maybe bring me some nougat from the kitchen? I think we still have some left,” he asked, giving Castiel his best puppy-dog eyes - he had watched Sam do it many times.

At the mention of the candy, Castiel grinned. Sam has told him about Jack’s love for the candy and the hunter had always made sure that they had some in the Bunker’s kitchen. “I’ll go look now,” he said.

Jack smiled up at him and went back to watching his show in fascination as Castiel left for the kitchen in his quest for nougat.

A sound of rustling wings was heard and the Nephilim child looked up in curiosity, pausing his show again. “Castiel?” He asked, looking around for any sign of the angel - or for anything, really. He did not saw the angel, but his gaze did fell on an item laying on the ground. A wonderful delicious item. A true treat for the child of angels and men.

A nougat bar.

There was a trail of nougat bars laying on the ground, tempting him. His curiosity getting the best of him, Jack stood up and started picking up the candy, following the nougat trail as he went.

After a while, Castiel returned to where he had left Jack, carrying a few nougat bars as he went. “Jack, I found the nougat-“ he started to say, just to realize that he was no more in the room.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Jack?” He called out, a bit louder now. He got no answer. Panic griping his heart, he put the nougat down next to the laptop - which was still turned on - and he went to search. Maybe he was just playing a game, he tried to tell himself. Yet it did little to calm him down. What if the angels managed to break in and stole him? What if he got hurt? Or what if Lucifer managed to get his hands on him? “JACK!!” Screw the ‘playing a game’, Castiel was in full on panic-mode now.

The angel went and searched in every room of the bunker. He looked under the beds, inside the closets, on the bunker’s roof, in the garage and even the dungeon. He looked everywhere. But there was no sign of the Nephilim anywhere, nor anything that showed where he could have gone off to.

Realization settled in. Castiel had lost Jack.

~~

A loud, highly annoyed, groan slipped from Dean’s lips as he attempted to haul Sam’s huge body out of the car and into the Bunker. If Dean didn’t knew any better, he would say that his not so little brother was drunk off his ass. But Dean knew that was not the case.

Dean had blown the brains out of the witch they were hunting, but that was not before she had managed to hit Sam with a beam of magic which had knocked him out cold. He had yet to come by, which was something Dean was started to worry about. And that was the only reason he had asked their mother to get Rowena to cure Sam of whatever was going on with him. He just hoped that Cas and Jack managed to stay out of trouble.

One thing he did not expect upon his return, was the state the bunker was in. Dean froze in the doorway, his eyes widening drastically. It was like the Bunker was hit by a furious tornado. The table in their ‘war room’ - as Dean liked to call it - was gone. The chairs and books were laying all over the place. Even the walls seemed to have been ripped apart, as if someone decided to look inside the walls and did not found what they were looking for. Fearing for his angel, Dean assumedthe worst and managed to pull his gun out of his pants as he stumbled downstairs - miraculously not dropping Sam.

“Cas?”

A sound of thundering footsteps was heard a few rooms over. Something was coming his way. And fast. In a second, Dean felt like how Simba must have felt in the ravine when all those larger animals came racing his way. Except it was not a pack of wild animals, but a single panicking Seraphim. “Cas!” Dean called out in shock. And then he was tackled to the ground by the angel, who wrapped himself around him like a hug. He landed with a groan, with Cas on top of him and he had dropped Sam, who fell to the ground and stayed there like a glorified sack of potatoes. “What’s wrong, Cas?” Dean groaned out.

“I lost Jack and can’t find him anymore,” the angel replied in a tiny voice, holding Dean tighter until the mortal feared that the celestial might accidentally crush his bones.

“Can’t breathe,” Dean managed to squeak out, face reddening. Castiel let him go and for one small second, Dean found himself lost in the angel’s eyes; feeling like he was both soaring and drowning in their depths. Dean shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “How did you lose Jack?” He asked as they stood up. “What happened?” He noticed that Castiel wasn’t wearing his trench coat and his hair was ruffled more than usual. The idea of Cas without his coat was oddly unnerving to Dean.

“I was getting Jack some nougat from the kitchen but when I returned he was gone. I looked everywhere,” a flash of panic appeared in Cas’ eyes.

Dean looked around at the destroyed room. He believed Cas when the angel told him he had looked everywhere. He nodded. “Alright. Just help me with putting Sam in his room and then I will help you search for our lost Nephilim.”

It was as if Castiel just noticed Sam, whom was still on the floor. “What happened?”

“A witch knocked him out. Mom is getting Rowena for help,” Dean explained quickly as Castiel reached down and threw Sam over his shoulder. Bless angels and their strength, Dean couldn’t help but think. They started walking towards Sam’s room as Dean gave him a more detailed report of what went down with the witch.

~~

“Okay, I think we really lost Jack,” Dean announced after they’ve been searching for about one hour. He had even went and checked the traffic cameras to see if a lost Nephilim would appear on them. But there was no trace of Jack. It was as if he had just disappeared into thin air.

Castiel gave Dean a panicked look. Dean felt like he had to say something to calm the angel down. “I think our best bet for now is to wait until mom gets here with Rowena to fix Sam. Then we can all work together to find Jack. We will find him, Cas, don’t worry.” Almost awkwardly, he gave the angel’s shoulder a pat. But it seemed to work on Castiel, for at least some of the tension seems to have left his shoulders. The angel nodded, giving him a rare smile and Dean felt his own mood lift drastically.

They looked up when they heard footsteps nearing. “Jack?” Castiel asked hopefully. Dean was more doubtful. It did not sound like Jack, the thread was heavier. It sounded more like Sam.

“I think that it’s Sam,” Dean voiced his thoughts aloud.

“That’s a good thing then,” Castiel replied, appearing to be relieved that their friend was at least fine.

Castiel’s relief was short lived. For none of them were expecting - or prepared for - what happened next.

The door burst open and revealed Sam... stark naked and covered head to toe in what appeared to be... kale? Dean’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets when his brain slowly progressed the fact that his brother had, indeed, covered his naked and glue slicked body in kale. Why was beyond Dean.

But at least his ‘private parts’ were completely covered.

“Sam, why are you covered in kale?” Castiel bluntly asked. Dean shot him a look.

Sam gave them a crazed look. “He’s bewitched,” Castiel stated, looking slightly worried.

Dean’s head shot up in alarm. What the fuck did this witch do to my brother?!

“GOD BLESS KALE!!” Sam randomly screeched at the top of his lungs. Castiel and Dean alike jumped. And then Sam charged straight at them as if he was some kind of fearsome kale monster, a war cry of some sorts slipping out of his lips.

Dean nearly stumbled over his own feet while trying to get out of the way. The last thing he wanted was getting run over by his giant brother turned insane. Before Dean knew it really, he and Cas were running around the Bunker in circles, with Sam chasing after them and screaming his head off. “CAS!” Dean yelled. “DO SOMETHING!!”

“LIKE WHAT?!” Castiel yelled back.

“ANYTHING!!”

“GOD BLESS KALE!!” Sam yelled again.

~~

The door to the bunker opened again. Revealing Mary and Rowena. Upon hearing all the screaming and yelling, they looked up in sync. One look at Sam’s naked and kale-covered body, and Rowena turned around. “Nope,” the witch said and walked out.

Mary’s mouth had dropped open. She could only stare in disbelief. “Rowena, wait!” She called back to the redhead.

“Trust me, dearie,” Rowena called back, holding up her hands, “you do not want to get between this. I know this spell. The ‘crazy spell’ wears off in a few hours. And trust me, you don’t want Sam to see you now the way he is. Let’s just get a drink and then come back, when the moose is back to normal.”

Before Mary could say anything really, Rowena already started dragging her along to God knew where. Still too stupefied by what she just saw, Mary let her.

~~

Another hour or so later

Jack took another bite out of his nougat bar, feeling like he had ended up in his own personal Heaven. A hand touched his head and gave his hair a playful ruffle.

“You know, kid,” Gabriel spoke in amusement, slightly giggling to himself, “you really aren’t that bad. You got potential in you.” The main reason that the Archangel had bribed the Nephilim to him with nougat was because he wanted to screw around some with Castiel - he did not expect to get along so well with Jack, his nephew. Even just for the fact that they seemed to share a love for candy and everything sweet - the other angels never understood him, but this little Nephilim, on the other hand, did.

“You also aren’t that bad for an angel,” Jack replied. Gabriel decided to take that as a compliment. “But I should go back soon. I don’t want them to worry too much,” the child added, frowning slightly.

“Just say the word and I’ll zap you back,” Gabriel shrugged, throwing a few empty candy wrappers on the growing pile between them.

“I like to go back,” Jack announced after a while, throwing another candy wrapper on the pile.

Feeling slightly saddened, Gabriel nodded, respecting his wish. “I do have one favor to ask of you,” the Archangel said, “please don’t tell them, especially Castiel, that I am alive.”

Jack tilted his head. “Why?”

When he replied, Gabriel’s smile was sad. “That’s perhaps a story for another time,” was all the Archangel said. Jack nodded. “If you wish to see or talk to me again, for anything really, just pray,” Gabriel added, snapping his fingers once.

One moment Jack had been eating candy with the Archangel Gabriel, and the next he found himself back into the bunker. The Nephilim blinked at his sudden change of surroundings. I need to get him to teach me how to do that, he thought to himself, right before Castiel barreled into him.

“Jack!!” Arms wound themselves around him and Jack was wrapped tightly into a hug. Stumbling slightly, surprise hit him but he quickly composed himself and hugged the angel back. “Where have you been?” Castiel pulled back and shot him a glare as he held the child at arms length. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?!”

“I’m sorry,” Jack replied, eyes widening in shock. Remembering the promise he had made to Gabriel, he stayed quiet about his meeting with the angel. “I didn’t mean to.”

Castiel shook his head and sighed, bringing the child in for another hug. “It’s alright. I’m not mad, I was just worried.” He said. “If you’re going anywhere, just tell someone, alright?”

Jack nodded and was aware of Sam and Dean entering the room. He tilted up his head from Castiel’s shoulder and his eyes widened even more. Dean was paler than a ghost and looked like he witnessed the world’s greatest horror. And Sam looked as confused as it could get. “Sam,” the Nephilim gawked, “why are you naked and covered in kale?”

Sam winced as if he got visibly punched in the gut. But Jack never got his answer, for all three of them refused to speak about it.

Tags: @luciferstempest @gabrielsbackbitches @jgvfhl @staycejo1 @blakechaos08 @qslucid

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED AS WELL, JUST ASK!!

#Destiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn fanfic #crack #god bless kale #sam lost his damn mind #rowena is so done #gabriel is at fault #gabriel is at blame #castiel lost jack #jack the lost nephilim #Jack Kline #I still don't know how to tag #halp

[danadumaurier]

*This is a Continuum pseudo AU written for @Dana-cz - all scenes fit within the film to a point then diverge. @dana-cz indicated that she likes the idea that Jack and Sam married during the time Sam was at Area 51 in season 9, so this story assumes that is the case. Merry, merry and holly, jolly.*

———-

“Go.” With a struggling breath he was gone. She couldn’t believe it. Her mind couldn’t process what was happening. Training kicked in and she turned to see Ba’al vanish, as so many others in the room had moments before. The threat gone, she turned back to Jack. He was too still. Was this really? Was this really happening? This couldn’t be happening. Time slowed as she took in his quiet features. She needed him to open his eyes. To smile and crack a joke about the wound, or his track record for escaping just this situation, Ba’al being asshole. Something.

Cameron grabbed her pack and forced her back into action as they raced to the gate and safety. She was surviving on her training and her fear for her friends. Everything else she forced down.

Then they gated into cold darkness, and her mind slipped back to Jack. He was gone, and she was numb. Numb with shock, disbelief. Her mind played the moments over. She’d just watched him die. He was gone. She swallowed ragged breaths, then Cam needed her, and she was forced back to their reality, to her training, yet again.

———-

“Wait!” She stumbled at the voice and turned to Cam. Did he hear Jack too? Was she hallucinating? Had she actually passed out and dreamed him back to her? Cam responded to the mirage. Maybe she wasn’t dreaming. She pulled at the scarf over her face so she could communicate better. It was really Jack, she could have kissed him, but years of pretending kept her in check.

———-

Jack squinted his eyes at the woman before him. What the hell was Samantha Carter doing, standing in front of him, in the god damned arctic? The woman was supposed to be dead for Christ’s sake. She’d perked up when he admitted he recognized her, but then looked shocked when he’d cracked the line about her being a dead astronaut. Something was not right about these two. He should have heard of Mitchell, if he really was a Colonel.

She was prettier than on tv though. Despite the sun and wind burn. “Training exercises on the ice, sir.” He mumbled under his breath. “It’ll be like Christmas, sir.” He shook his head and led them to the sub.

———-

It wasn’t really Jack. This man hadn’t been softened around the edges by Daniel’s compassion. He’d never learned to trust her despite not fully understanding the science behind her reasoned ramblings. This Jack was still bent to the rules and the reality of a steady, normal, earth bound military life. Her Jack would have made her go back and explain the bit about alternate timelines instead of calling them freaks. She sighed. They’d been sent to a base and were separated into private quarters. She had nothing to do but sit and contemplate their situation. Her situation. The looming unimaginable reality of being Jack’s widow in a timeline where she didn’t belong.

———-

They’d been questioning the trio for hours. He’d observed the Daniel guy for a while on the monitors, hoping to catch him out for that crack about Charlie. Currently he was observing ‘Colonel’ Carter. The troubling thing was, they had their stories straight. He watched as the woman sighed in frustration as she tried to explain again that she wasn’t an astronaut, but yes, she was Samantha Carter. She ran her hands through her hair and stared at the table. “I’d like to talk to Jack O’Neill.”

The woman questioning her stopped her scribbling. “That’s not possible ma’am.”

He glanced at his watch. He could stay for a couple of more hours, but then he had orders to begin his delayed training exercises. He tossed the headphones on the table and headed to the improvised interrogation room. He tapped on the door and entered. He’d watched her grimace when that Daniel guy had mentioned Charlie. He wanted to know how she knew about his son. Why and how she’d anticipated his negative reaction to that tactic to gain trust.

“Major. Colonel?” He nodded to the two women, but focused on Samantha Carter. She looked shocked that he would use the honorific.

“Sir.”

“I understand you wanted to talk to me. I have to leave soon. Talk.” He pulled up a chair and sat at the end of the table, between the two women.

Sam weighed her options. He’d completely dismissed them earlier, but something had changed. She decided to start with science.

“Sir, scientists theorize that there are an infinite number of dimensions each of them containing a different possible version of reality.”

“O-Kay.”

“The theory is that there are an infinite number of alternate realities, some of them very different and some of them almost identical. These realities diverge at every choice we make like, forks in the road.”

“So?”

“In my reality, I joined the airforce instead of pursuing a career at NASA, and we’ve worked together, known each other for over ten years. We’ve also encountered multiple alternate universes, traveled to hundreds of planets, and even gone back in time.” She paused and sheepishly added, “Accidentally.” His face remained stoic and hard throughout her ramble, so far removed from her Jack that defeat started to sink into her bones. He wouldn’t believe her.

“Assuming I believed you, how does one encounter an alternate universe and travel through time?”

“In my timeline, the US Air Force is in possession of an ancient artifact, called a Stargate,that enables the creation of stable wormholes, through which teams of airmen explore the universe. In these explorations we’ve found other artifacts that allow for travel between realities, and discovered that if one traveled through a wormhole while there was a solar flare it was possible to travel through time. Once we ended up in 1969, sir.” Jack has begun to pace the room, but didn’t ask anything further so she continued.

“We’ve made quiet a few enemies in the universe. Beings that would enslave humans, called the go’uald. One of these go’auld learned about the possibility of time travel using solar flares, and went back in time to hide the Stargate so the US wouldn’t find it. After he changed the timeline, the next time we tried to use the gate to come home, we ended up here. Back on earth, but an earth with a timeline that didn’t include the US Airforce using the Stargate, a timeline where I joined NASA apparently, and you and I never met.” She didn’t have the courage to outline their real relationship.

“Ba’al has something planned, sir. He will take over the earth and enslave humanity if given the chance. They have powerful weapons, like nothing the US military has ever seen. In my timeline, we had made powerful alien allies that were much more compassionate and technologically advanced than the go’auld. Without their help...” exhausted she let the sentence hang.

“Okay, so you’re saying we should be on high alert for little green men.” Sam couldn’t stop her smile, finally something resembling a joke.

“Actually, Ba’al looks quite human. The go’auld live inside human hosts. They are parasites that claim bodies and suppress the human from communicating and even controling their bodies.”

Jack sighed. “Parasites like ticks that are sentient enough to attack worlds? Really Colonel?”

Sam just stared back at him refusing to allow even a glimmer of hesitation to show in her features. She knew the truth. He had to accept it.

When she didn’t respond, he continued to watch her. Even exhausted and clearly unstable there was something in her strength and resolution that impressed him. She had the bearing of a Colonel, despite her apparent exhaustion and the sadness that pooled just behind her blue eyes.

“I have to go.” And with that he was gone, and the questions began again.

———-

It had been a month. She’d settled into her new house, but hadn’t decorated or really bothered to make it home. She had the essentials, but nothing special. She’d bought rather utilitarian clothing, again nothing special. She couldn’t afford to be recognized as the dead astronaut. After the first two weeks of stares, she’d dyed her hair dark brown, but she was having a hard time adjusting to the new look. She’d been making notes and trying to plan a way to fix the timeline and had some Orlin inspired thoughts. If she could build a mini-gate similar to the one he had made in her old basement, they could at least contact the Asguard. She was still trying to figure out how to reach Cam and Daniel. That might be harder. As it was she was working to gain the trust of some local teenage hoodlums to help her order materials without raising her handler’s suspicions. As she was going over her list of supplies for the third time that morning, the doorbell rang.

She wasn’t expecting a delivery, but she hurried to the front of the house more out of habit than curiosity. She opened the door and stood shocked. “Jack?”

He stood, one brow raised at the familiarity, and took in her casual dress and the dark hair. “Colonel.”

“Um. Come in, Sir.”

Jack walked in and glanced about the sparse apartment. Noting the bare walls and absence of Knick knacks or art. “I like what you’ve done with the space.”

That earned him a chuckle. “I’ll grab you a drink.” She returned with his favorite brand of beer.

“Ah, thanks Carter.” They settled in the living room, and she nervously picked at the label on her own bottle of Diet Coke.

“What did you need, Sir? Can I help you with something?”

“Your friend, Daniel was it, mentioned something about my son, when we first met. It made you flinch if I recall.”

“Yes, Sir. He.” She paused and squirmed just slightly in her seat. “Charlie. In my timeline, Charlie died before we ever met. He’d found your gun at home and accidentally shot himself.”

“So if we fix the timeline, ‘save the world,’ my son is dead?”

She had the good sense to be flustered by that eventuality. “Yes, Sir.”

He looked at her, a grim set to his mouth.

“They found your Stargate Carter. Tested it. The Joint Chiefs now believe you.” She sighed and closed her eyes in relief. When she opened them back up he was gone, a second later she heard the front door click shut.

TBC...part 2 will be a New Years surprise.

#stargate sg1 #sg1 secret santa #@dana-cz #dana-cz #sam x jack #this didnt turn out as fluffy as id wanted but here you go. #sg1secretsanta

[fearfilledvirgil]

Ivity and Anx: part eighteen

Summary: Virgil and Roman hate each other to the core of their beings, but both become friends with a new stranger via the Sarrahas Project. Virgil takes to Creativity as well as Roman does to Anxiety, but they don’t know the true identity of the ones they’re slowing falling for.

Warnings: swearing, graphic panic attack, talk of parental abuse, talk of attempt at murder, body image issues, implied eating disorder, nighmares, 

Word count: 10,614

Pairing: Slowburn Prinxiety

A/N: this is literally a behemoth but i didn’t feel like splitting it up like we did with seventeen. you are welcome. this is very very long and very very emotionally taxing. taglist under the cut. warning: exteme panic attack in this section

masterlist

taglist: @rileyfirstname @verymuchanidiot @definentlynotjustanotherlemon @silversmith-91 @kanejandkruge @sander-fander-sides @lovecrazyjennybear @the-incedible-sulk @hexdream18243 @crows-with-hats @monikastec @definenormalifyoucan @i-am-absolute-fandom-trash @applecannibal @cats-with-blogs @bubblycricket @witchcraft--and--wizardry @bunnyartie @quietlypondering @elusivefalsehoods @hghrules @royallyanxious @quietwords-loudthoughts @squishynonbinarytwink @sortablue @illogical-anxieties @savingshae @a-fander-named-skittles @thelowlysatsuma @ughthatsprettygay @im-so-infinitesimal @certifiedtrashxx @karmels-stuff @sanders-sides-trash-blog @musicqueen1239 @the-average-loner @nicological1 @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @surleytemple​ @nervous-collection @asapmykeyy-blog @super-magical-wizard @arandompasserby @serenitythepanther @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas

Roman shut the door as he kicked off his shoes after walking out to Patton’s car with him to make sure he got in alright. As he did so, he couldn’t help but smile up at Virgil, who still stood waiting in the kitchen. Pride was bubbling in his chest. His best friend and Virgil got along better than he could’ve hoped. His mind was about to call Virgil his ‘good friend’, but something didn’t sit right with that. Virgil was more than that, but Roman didn’t really know what was more about him.

Virgil put down his still charging phone, sighed, and followed Roman to the living room before flopping on the couch. “That was exhausting.”

“What was?” Roman asked, sitting next to the lanky boy.

“The whole day. I think even without getting Extreme Dad Mode, as you call it, it would’ve been tiring. He’s just this huge ball of energy that doesn’t stop.” Despite saying how exhausted he was, there was a fond smile tugging on Virgil’s lips.

“He’s an amazing friend. And I’m really glad you two got along.” Roman splayed himself out on the couch, grabbing the remote to turn on the TV.

“Honestly, Princey? I’m glad we did too.” A yawn left Virgil’s mouth, which made Roman avert his gaze from the dark TV to his company.

“Tired?” He asked to make Virgil look over at him instead of down at the floor.

“I guess so.” Virgil turned his head and promptly died on the inside. Roman’s legs were spread in a mansplanting position, arms draping over the back of the couch, and his neck was exposed from being turned toward Virgil. He looked absolutely amazing handsome, and Virgil cursed himself for blushing. Roman’s chest, arms, neck, and crotch were just too much for Virgil’s heart to handle.

“Why don’t we get you to bed? It’s been a long day for the both of us.” Roman noticed the small blush on Virgil’s face, but didn’t shift his position. The brush of color on Virgil was actually very adorable.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Virgil stood up rather quickly. He didn’t know what he was thinking. Roman was Roman. Even though he isn't as straight as Virgil once thought, he still was way out of Virgil’s league. Not to mention the fact that their friendship is still very uncertain. Feelings would get in the way of that.

Roman got up and put down the TV controller. He couldn’t help but think that Virgil was just checking him out, and it honestly made him feel a weird bubbling emotion in his gut. Virgil looked quite exquisite when he was blushing, yes, and even more so when Roman was the cause. Princey shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts. After they stopped to grab their phones in the kitchen, Roman lead Virgil back into his older brother’s old room. “I put your clothes in the closet. And the PJs you borrowed yesterday are in there too.”

“Thanks.” Virgil looked around for a moment, remembering this as the room he was supposed to sleep in the night prior. He gave a small grin to Roman, one meant to just be a quick twitch upwards of the lips. Instead, it turned into a genuinely fond smile. It was still small, but it made Roman return one of his own. Not wanting to overstay his bounds in his guest’s room, he walked out, closing the door behind him to give Virgil some privacy.

Virgil sighed, moving toward the unmade bed to sit for a few minutes. I fucking hate that I’m a charity case here. He started to think as he surveyed the grey and pink room. At least it’s somewhere I feel safe. Virgil took a deep breath, scrunching some of the soft pink coloured comforter. In an attempt to prevent his mind from spiraling farther, he pushed himself off the grey framed bed toward the closet. When he opened the grey sliding door, he groaned.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me…” Virgil quickly changed into the PJs waiting for him nonetheless, wincing slightly when the shirt went over his bandaged wound. Once that was done, he found his way to outside of Roman’s bedroom. He knocked, companying that with a small, “Ivity?”

“One second!” A moment later Roman opened the door, clad in a large faded salmon t-shirt and the same bottoms as the night before. “What’s up, Jack Scarrington?”

“Where did all the clothes in there come from?” Virgil crossed his arms in an attempt to seem more threatening.

“The thrift store.” Roman wasn’t even fazed by the threatening stance of Virgil. He probably should have been, but that’s beside the point.

“No shit. I knew that much,” Virgil gave him a half glare, but he wasn’t able to give a full one. Roman just looked a bit too adorable with his tired eyes and oversized shirt. “I looked at a few of them there. How did they get here?”

“I picked them up. You needed more than three shirts and two pants.” Roman scratched the back of his head, which made Virgil internally curse himself again. Roman needed to stop.

“I’m not a charity case, Princey.” Virgil hardened his glare, fueled by the insufferable fact that a tired Roman was a cute Roman.

“I know you’re not. If you want you can teach me how to make breakfast tomorrow to return the favor.” Roman cracked a small smile, which in turn cracked a small piece off of Virgil’s glare.

“Hardly the same thing.”

“Virgil, I wanted to make sure you had enough clothes for a little bit. And it was Patton’s suggestion. He was worried about it too.”

Virgil just shook his head and removed his gaze from Roman. “Just… don’t make a habit out of it. I’m not staying here for you to pay for everything.”

“I know that. If it bugs you that much we can work something out later. Right now I think both of us would like to head to bed.” Roman let loose a yawn mid-sentence that he couldn’t suppress for added effect.

“Alright,” Virgil shifted his weight before looking back at Roman. “Talk to you in the morning, Prince.”

“Sleep well, Sanders.” Roman used Virgil’s last name as well before closing the door to his bedroom.

Virgil walked back into the room he was sleeping in, but decided to look in the dresser drawers out of curiosity and the fact that he wasn’t that tired yet. There wasn’t a lot of items of interest: an iPhone charger, an old baseball card, a puka shell necklace that had broken, and three differing sized but identical green and brown bracelets. However, there was one thing that caught his attention. An older pair of grey headphones, ones that appeared to be noise cancelling.

Hoping that Roman’s brother wouldn’t mind, Virgil grabbed the headphones–and the charger–and sat on the bed again. He plugged both of them into his phone, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth when the charger worked. Then, Virgil put on a Fall Out Boy song to test how well the headphones worked. He was pleasantly surprised to know that they sounded like they were brand new. He quickly pulled up YouTube and Roman’s new song. He wanted to listen to it properly. He definitely didn’t just want to listen to Roman’s voice. Obviously not.

Getting comfortable under the covers, Virgil pressed play on the video. As he listened to the song and the pure emotion that was poured into it, his eyes fluttered shut. For some reason, after the first play through, Virgil decided to play it on a loop. After about the fourth time through, he started to drift into a peaceful sleep with a smile on his face.

Virgil woke up from the sun shining in his face, Psychic still softly playing through the headphones that had long since shifted off his head. Groaning, he rolled over and grabbed his phone to check the time. It was fairly early, just before eight in the morning. This caused Virgil to groan again and throw his arm over his eyes.

Why so fucking early? Virgil lamented to himself. No person in their right mind is up this fucking early. Unfortunately nothing Virgil tried would allow himself to fall back asleep. After about half an hour of trying he threw the covers off in frustration.

He stumbled out of the bedroom and was greeted by the smell of coffee. Roman, who had noticeably wet hair, was grabbing a mug out of the cabinet when Virgil walked in. “Good morning, gothlight!” Virgil vaguely groaned in answer. “Not a morning person I take it. Perhaps a cup of coffee will help,” Roman was answered in a groan again, but this one sounded like conformation. “I’ll pour you one too.”

Virgil flopped in a chair as Roman poured two cups of coffee. He brought them over to the table before returning to the kitchen to pull out some vanilla creamer, milk and sugar since he wasn’t sure how Virgil prefered to drink his coffee. Roman set all three items down on the table before settling into a seat himself.

Roman poured some of the vanilla creamer in his coffee as Virgil drank his black. The duo stayed silent while they enjoyed their morning drinks. Virgil stood and poured himself another cup followed by a third shortly after.

The third cup seemed to wake Virgil up enough to speak. “‘Morning, Ivity.”

“He does speak.” Roman teased with a grin on his face.

Virgil just flipped him off. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Not sure.”

“Well think about it. I’m going to go change out of these baggy pants.”

“Alright.”

Roman watched Virgil leave. He stood and looked in the fridge and pantry for what would be easy. He decided on making waffles from a box mix, as it was convenient and easy. When Virgil returned with slightly better smelling breath, Roman held up the box.

“I was thinking we could do waffles.”

“Ya know we could do them from scratch right?”

“I’m aware, but I want this to be something I can do if I need to.”

“Alright. Let me see that.”

He took the box from the older boy and read what they needed. Virgil tasked Roman with getting the waffle iron out as well as a bowl and hand mixer. While Roman was gathering those items, Virgil grabbed three eggs and the oil out. Step by step Virgil walked Roman through how to make the batter and pour them into the waffle iron.

The first one came out a little burnt. “It’s okay, Creativity. Now you know not as long.”

Roman tried again. It took him four more tries before one came out correctly. He was so excited when it did he bounced up and down like Patton. Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle, a blush almost overtaking his cheeks as well as his ears. After he was sure Roman wouldn’t burn anything, he got to work on cutting up some fruit to have with it.

Once breakfast was complete, the two ate in silence. Roman–once again–didn’t finish his plate, but it was a few more bites than the day before. Virgil counted it as a victory. During clean up, the two decided to just have a calm relaxing day watching Disney movies after the excitement of the day prior. Some time later, Virgil felt his phone vibrate with Logan’s specific rhythm during a playful debate with Roman over which character in Moana was the best.  

Virgil removed his gaze from Roman to look down at his phone. The smile he wore dropped from his face in an instant, all the color draining away as well. It was after five in the evening. Fuck fuck shit. Fuck! Virgil’s mind started as his eyes widened. I’m going to get killed. I have to go back. But he might kill me if I go back. Fuck. Virgil didn’t check the text. All he could think about was fear, paralyzing fear. His body was going into overdrive, panic spreading from his heart to every inch of his body

“Virgil? Virgil, are you okay?” Roman asked with his words dripping with concern. He didn’t understand why Virgil suddenly looked so pale, or why he was now shaking.

Virgil shook his head, mind and mouth not cooperating, despite the name repeat slicing through his muddling thoughts. He scrambled to move from where he was sitting on the couch, standing quickly and pocketing his phone. He was looking frantically from side to side, as if wondering where something was. It was painfully clear that whatever was causing the dark boy to panic was worse than his hospital fear.

“Hey, hey. Stop for a second. Please?” Roman stood almost as quickly as Virgil did, worry clear on his face. Virgil stopped in his frantic movements, but his body still shook violently. It looked as though he was holding back sobs. “Talk to me. I want to try and help you.”

“I gotta go- I gotta go home,” The only emotion in Virgil’s voice were clear fear. Panic. The dark eyes as big as saucers threatened to drop a few tears. “I’ve been gone for, for too long.”

“Virgil, why don’t we breathe together? Then you can explain what is going on.” Roman took two half steps toward the shaking boy in an attempt to get closer.

“No, no time. I gotta- gotta, I gotta- go,” Virgil breathed half of a shaky breath before forcing it out in his next breathy words, “He’s gonna be, he’s gonna... upset.”

“You came here with a cut from a knife from your house, Virgil. There is no way in hell I’m going to let you go back there. I don’t know what else he might do and I’m not going to lose you. You mean too much to me to let that happen.” Roman took another step forward, trying his best not to agitate the panicking boy more than he already was.

Tears fell down Virgil’s cheek, which made the boy break out of his staring daze for Roman. He didn’t know if they were from fear at what his father might do, or from joy at hearing Roman say he meant a lot to him. Without much of a choice, Virgil’s unsteady legs gave out from underneath him, throwing him into Roman’s arms. Roman stiffened at the contact, but tried to hold Virgil up anyways.

He’s going to know you’ve eaten too much. You should have gone back to purging after you’ve eaten. Roman, you fucking idiot! All the hard work he put into helping you he’ll see has gone to waste. You’re not thin. Nothing but a flabby excuse of a boy. No muscles or abs, and he’s going to feel all of your rolls because of that. Those cookies that Patton made? And all the food Virgil cooked? It didn’t help any of this.

After several moments of those thoughts as Virgil shook in his arms, Roman realized something. Virgil was panicking to the extreme, and probably didn’t even have a fleeting thought about his body type. Right now, Virgil was probably worried for himself. Roman lowered Virgil to the ground, sitting himself and the panicking one down. Roman’s back was against the couch while Virgil was collapsed on his lap.

“I’m not going to let you get hurt, Virgil. Not as long as there’s anything I can do about it.” Roman tried to reassure, but Virgil kept shaking his head violently.

A particularly violent sob pushed itself out of Virgil’s mouth. At this point, the boy was in pieces. He was sobbing, shaking, crying, with fear amplifying all his senses into flight mode. He had so much adrenaline in his heart that he felt as though he were dying. Thoughts bounced around his head so quickly that he couldn’t latch onto one for long enough to expand it. Instead, several half-formed thoughts started to stutter out of Virgil’s mouth with little to no explanation.

“P-punish….punishment will be worse. Need-ne-need to go- to go home. Thr-three, three days gone and, and, an-an-and he’ll.. he’ll…” Roman opened his mouth to say something of comfort, but Virgil continued to stutter things out.

“I-I got, I got so, so scared. I moved but, but, but would’ve got- gotten hurt worse.. just a deep cut on arm.” Virgil placed his hand on Roman’s chest, jabbing at it harder than he thought he was. His mind was swarmed with panic, his eyes with tears, that he didn’t realize just what he was doing.

Roman resorted to letting Virgil spew his words. He keep his own breathing in the rhythm that Virgil taught him, just in case the younger was watching his breath as he pounded his finger into his chest. There also was the reason that Roman himself had started to freak out, but Virgil took more precedence.

“A-aim-aiming for my f-fu-fuck-ucking chest, Prin-Princey,” Virgil sobbed again. He stopped the movement of his hand and grabbed Roman’s shirt instead before burying his face in it as if he were hiding. “He was, he was try-trying to k-kill-kill me. I turned a-an-and put my arms, my arms up and that’s, that’s the fucking only reason it was my arm and not my heart. I pushed, I pushed h-im and ra-ran, ran.. He’s going to be so fucking pissed that I pushed him.” Virgil pushed the words out, choking on some and stuttering, while others he talked too fast on. He was still shaking, so much, as the fear he felt pushed him to tell Roman everything.

Roman almost stopped breathing at the shock that he felt rush through his body upon processing the information. He was also even more scared for his friend than he was before. No one should have to be attacked like that, even more so in their own home. The fact that Virgil was more worried about his father being upset for being pushed than for his own life spoke volumes to the kind of abuse Virgil went through.

“Fuck him,” Roman said coldly, causing Virgil to look at him in surprise. Roman was surprised at how calm he sounded considering he was terrified for his friend. “I’m definitely not letting you go back there now. You’ll be safe here. He tried to kill you Virgil; he’s.. he’s worse than toxic, worse than abusive….” Roman caused himself to stop his rant short when he noticed that the younger boy was still shaking. Violently might he add.

Virgil didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how he could push more words out of his mouth, but he needed to. For Roman. He needed to let Roman know that he couldn’t just say ‘screw my dad!’ like some preteen runaway who comes back home for dinner. The next attempt at his talking came out in a weak mumble, which peaked Roman’s concern again.

“Hey…” He said softer as he gently pulled Virgil more onto his lap. “Breathe with me, Virge. We’re both going to calm down okay? Now, in for four. You’re doing great. Hold for seven. And now out for eight.”

Virgil struggled to follow the breathing for the first few times. His heartbeat was still rampant, and the frequent sobs kept him from breathing properly. Roman kept encouraging him and counting out the breaths despite this. Even with that, it took several minutes before Virgil could take in a full breath instead of only half of one. Roman was patient though, rubbing the other’s back and breathing with him. He cooed and shushed him frequently, sometimes saying small “I’m here”s and “You’re safe”s. At one point, Roman began singing a soft song in Spanish that seemed to help calm Virgil down some more. Roman was still full of fear for his friend, but he was able to rein it back in during the breathing exercise and the attempts at comfort.

“I will never let him hurt you again, Virgil.” Roman said with full volume after the worst of the shaking had passed. “I swear to you as a Prince. He’ll have to go through me first. You’re safe here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Princey.” Virgil’s voice was incredibly small, but at the very least he wasn’t stuttering anymore. “That’s why I have to go back. Not for me. Never for me. He’ll come… He’ll come after you and hurt you. I can’t let him hurt you…. You mean too much to me. He’ll hurt you to get back at me, and I’d never forgive myself for that.”

“He won’t hurt me. And he won’t hurt you either.”

“You don’t know that, damn it!” Virgil yelled, pushing himself slightly off Roman. The shaking was coming back and his voice was getting deeper as the panic became worse.

Roman didn’t flinch when the other raised his voice but he was confused as to why his voice lowered over an octave. “Yes I do. Because you’re not going back there for him to find out who to go after. He just… pulled a knife on you. I highly doubt he cares enough to find out who your friends are. He won’t know where to start looking for you.”

“He’ll find out! He always figures things out. He’s going to come here and hurt you if I don’t go home.” Virgil’s breath was becoming scattered again. It was clear it was getting harder and harder to get breaths in.

“Virgil, keep breathing. I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. So is Patton and Logan. Both are just a call away, and I know both would want to keep you safe no matter what.” Roman pulled the younger back onto his chest. Virgil did so with no resistance.

“He almost hurt Logan,” Virgil mumbled into Roman’s chest. “He… he didn’t because I... I let him do whatever he wanted to me without leaving to get help. He was going to hurt Logan. He found out, and he was going to hurt him. I have to.. I have to save you too. You don’t deserve it, you don’t. You don’t.”

“And you’re saying you do? Because you don’t, Virgil,” Roman ever so slightly tightened his grip on the boy in his arms. “And you never will.”

Several moments of silence passed, the only sound in the living room being their breathing and the occasional vibration of a phone. Roman continued to hold Virgil in his arms until his breathing started to even. It was a blessing, but also a curse. That meant that Virgil would soon not want to be cuddling with him, which was a sad thought.

“Virgil?” The boy in question lifted his head to look at Roman with a hum of confirmation. “Did it trigger you when you had to use the kitchen knife to cut the… whatever you cut up?”

The silence he received was almost confirmation enough. “I mean, at the beginning…” Virgil trailed off again, his words slow and sloppy on his tongue. His eyes were starting to droop, as if he was beginning to have a hard time with keeping them open.

“Virgil, do I have permission to carry you to bed?” The elder asked concerned for the now tired boy in his arms. He was met with a low hum which he interpreted as a ‘yes.’

Roman very gently picked the young emo in his arms. He couldn’t help but notice how easy that was. It was clear that Virgil was even more skinny than he looked, which only made Roman worry more. On the walk from the living room to his older brother’s old bedroom, Virgil snuggled close to Roman before falling asleep. Gently Roman sat on the bed and laid Virgil down, covering him up with the comforter, hoping the weight from it would act as a little bit of security.

After about fifteen minutes of Virgil’s even breathing and occasional snore, Roman carefully removed himself from the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping boy. He quietly padded out of the room, closing the door most of the way before walking back into the living room. Roman picked up his phone, determination clear in his mind. Logan had to know about what happened to Virgil, and Roman needed to know if his life had been threatened before.

Once he opened his phone he realized he didn’t have Logan’s number. Knowing how important it was to get a hold of him, Roman sent a quick text to Patton.

Prince Roman: Hey Pat. Could I have Logan’s number? It’s important that I talk to him.

Pappy Padre Patton: Sure thing kiddo!

Roman was putting the number in his contacts when another text came in.

Pappy Padre Patton: Is everything ok? Is it about my dark strange son?

Prince Roman: No. Everything is not ok. I’ll explain it to you after I talk to Logan. Or maybe Logan can explain it. I’m not entirely sure if I can say it more than once.

Pappy Padre Patton: If you want me to come over I will!

Prince Roman: Let me make the call first. I’ll let you know. Thanks Pat.

Pappy Padre Patton: Of course!

Roman smiled at Patton’s text for a moment before going back into his contacts. His finger pushed the call button next to Logan’s number. Then he waited. When Roman got Logan’s voicemail he hung up frustrated. “I swear Calculator Watch if you don’t answer I will kick your ass.” He dialed it again.

This time the older boy answered on the final ring. “Hello?”

“Oh thank God. Logan. It’s Roman.”

“Salutations Roman. I apologize for not answering you the first time. I did not have your number.”

“It’s okay, but I’m really glad you answered.”

Logan noticed the slight urgency in Roman’s voice. “Is Virgil alright?”

“He’s safe here. But that’s what I want to talk to you about. I know you spoke to him the night he came here. What did he tell you?”

Roman could hear Logan walking. “Give me one moment,” Logan hurried down the hall to his room and walked in, closing the door and locking it. “My apologies again. I was in the common room and would rather not have everyone else hear.”

“Understandable.”

“He told me that he stood up to his father. He also told me that it happened really fast, or really slow. Which to me is a sign that his fight or flight was working at maximum capacity to keep him safe. And he told me that he turned and the blade went deeper in his arm.”

“That’s all he told you?”

“Yes? Why do you ask?”

“Because that’s not all that happened.”

Roman heard Logan sit on his bed by the springs squeaking slightly. “What do you mean?”

Roman took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. “Everything he told you happened, but he didn’t tell you why he turned.” He bit his lip, not sure how to continue.

“Roman?” Logan asked after a moment.

Okay Roman. You just gotta spit it out. Rip it off like a band aid. “He turned to avoid the knife going into his chest.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It was broken by a soft, “Holy fuck.”

“Understatement of the year there buddy.”

“How did you find out about this, Roman?”

“He told me in the middle of a panic attack. It’s was the worst one I’ve seen him have. Like he had a pretty bad one over the hospital thing but this was far worse. He told me that his father was trying to kill him. And that he had to go back today because he was gone too long. He also told me that his father tried to go after you for helping Virgil but he didn’t because Virgil let him do whatever he wanted to him instead. So he’s terrified of what his father will do to me. He can’t go back to that hell hole. I won’t let him.”

Roman took a deep breath. He didn’t expect to ramble quite as much but it was all things that needed to be said. Now he just had to wait to hear what Logan had to say. It took a few minutes, however, before the eldest spoke again.

“That son of a bitch needs to be in jail.”

“I know. But I don’t know if just me and Virgil will be quite enough. Logan, he needs you here too. You’re good at the logical talking. You could probably talk Virgil into going to the police better than Patton or I could. I know you just got to college and everything but this is really important.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but college can wait. Where’s Virgil now?”

“Sound asleep. He’s even snoring a little. I think the attack really wore him out.”

“They have a tendency to do that. I’ll get things together on my end here. I should be in town by tomorrow evening.”

“Thank you Logan. I need... to know something, though.”

“Alright?”

“Do you know if his father’s ever tried to hurt him like that before?”

Logan pondered for a moment, searching his mind for memories. “The worst I recall were a few deep cuts and a broken rib. But he’s never said anything of an actual attempt on his life.”

“Do… you think you could make a list of everything you recall Virgil coming to you with?”

“I have already compiled a list. With the dates and what I did to help fix them.”

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why does that not surprise me, Lo-CD?”

“I wouldn’t tease me over something so critical.”

“Touche. Honestly I’m just really glad that you kept notes. They will help give a timeline of how long others have known about the abuse as well as the messages between me and him.”

“I would write all of that down as well. When you two first starting speaking over messages, and any texts or calls you made to one another, that is.”

“That’ll take a long time, but I’ll get started. I’ll make notes of any important messages as well.” Roman found himself searching through old notebooks to find an empty one in his room shortly after he finished his sentence.

“The time spent will be well worth it, Roman.”

“I know it will be,” Roman walked back out into the living room with the notebook and pen in hand. “Would you do me one more thing?”

“I will do what I can.”

“Could you let Patton know what’s going on? I had to get your number from him but I don’t know if I can say it again. And Virgil trusts him. They had an amazing heart to heart yesterday.”

Logan hated going behind his honorary brother’s back, but knew Patton would worry himself sick if he didn’t get told. “I will. Let me gather the information I need here and I will give him a call.”

“Thank you, Logan. I honestly owe you one.”

“You’re keeping Virgil safe in my absence. We’re pretty even.”

“See you tomorrow, nerd.”

“Until then, prep.”

Roman chuckled at the nickname and hung up. He quickly got to work on finding dates and times of any phone calls they made as well as when they first started speaking. Unbeknownst to Roman, Logan was putting together all of the paperwork into a folder as well.

Logan opened his computer and began looking up flights. After he had searched for a while, calming himself down, he figured it would be a good time to call Patton. However, it took him a few moments with his finger hovering over the call button before he pressed it. His guilt for speaking about Virgil’s trauma was weighing heavily on him, but it was something Patton would find out eventually. It would be better if it was from someone close. Plus Patton would be extremely upset if he didn’t find out until the trial that was bound to happen.

Logan only had to wait a moment before the younger picked up. “Hey Lo!”

“Salutations Patton. How are you?”

“I’m alright! A little worried though. Roman text me asking for your number.”

“I am aware. He called me. We just got off the phone approximately fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh. I’m glad you two got to talk.”

“As am I. And that’s part of the reason I called you.”

“It is?” Patton sat up from laying on his bed. He knew that whatever Logan was going to say was important.

“Yes. I am flying back tomorrow. I’m looking for a flight now.”

“It’s something that bad?” Concern was clear in the younger’s voice.

“It’s that bad I’m afraid. Are you sitting?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. What I’m about to tell you is a lot. I know you have questions, but if you could refrain from asking any until I am finished it would be much appreciated.”

“I’ll try.”

“That is all I can ask of you,” Logan took a deep breath and stopped looking for flights. He pressed his fingers against his nose again, like he did whenever he was stressed. A migraine was forming, but he didn’t have time to go and take something right now. “Virgil had a very extreme anxiety attack a short while ago. He told Roman that his father tried to… to kill him,” He heard the distressed noise on the other end of the line. “He’s safe. Which is something good. He’s safe, and Roman isn’t going to let him return to that place,” Logan said that more for himself than for Patton, but he knew it benefited the other as well. “Virgil is very lucky that his fight or flight allowed him to process what was happening. I am going to speak with him in the morning about speaking to police.

“The… the years of abuse were bad enough, but the attempt on his life is too far. I can’t humor Virgil and let him stay silent anymore. His father needs to be behind bars where- where he cannot hurt Virgil again. I’ve already collected all the data I have, and Roman is doing the same. Making notes and copies of anything important. We will use this as evidence against his father.”

Patton was squeezing his pillow tightly to his chest. “He’s gone through so much. I assumed so when I saw some of his scars and… And with what you told me but I didn’t know just how bad it was. He… Virgil needs to be protected.”

“And he will. I truly believe that he will be safe with Roman. Just the protectiveness I heard in Roman’s voice is evidence enough of that, and I know you will help protect him as well. We all will.” The pain behind his eyes was getting to be too much. Logan stood on wobbly legs to retrieve his medicine from his personal bathroom.

“Darn right I will! I know I’m not.. I’m not quite as much help as you and Roman are, but I’m still going to help in any way I can.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile at the boy who held his heart. “I believe you can help quite a bit Patton. You seem to have an affinity for calming those around you down. That will prove to be extremely useful for not only Virgil, but myself and Roman as well. Do not discredit you’re ability.”

Patton smiled wide at what the handsome boy told him. “You really think so?”

“I do. It’s going to be critical during the trial that will most likely happen. I’m aware Roman can have a slight temper and you need to help keep that in check.”

“I’ll do everything I can.”

“I have complete faith in you.”

Patton could hear the smile in the other man’s voice. “Let me know if you need me to pick you up from the airport.”

“I will. If not I will still call and let you know when I have landed.”

“Sounds good! Maybe we can all meet up when you get in town somewhere. Grab a lunch now that we all know each other better.”

“That sounds nice. I will leave planning that in your capable hands.”

Patton smiled at the older boy, even though he couldn’t see. “Is there anything you need me to do tonight?”

Logan thought for a moment. “I do not believe I can think of anything. Perhaps going to check on Roman would be beneficial. He sounded extremely stressed.”

“Will do! I’m glad you’re coming back home. I just wish it was for happier reasons, though.”

“As do I, Patton. I will speak with you tomorrow.”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Lo!”

Neither boy wanted to hang up. They both enjoyed each other’s company too much, and it had been a little while since they spoke over the phone. Patton held his phone close like it was a lifeline. His whole body seemed to curve in on itself as he clutched the object tighter. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so hard to hang it up. He would be able to speak to Logan tomorrow.

“Patton?” Logan’s voice cut through the father figure’s thoughts.

“Yeah, Lo?”

“As much I enjoy speaking with you, staying on the line will not allow you to help Roman.”

“You didn’t hang up either.”

There was a moment of silence. “Point well made. I’m going to hang up so you may go help your friend in his time of need. Good night, sweet Patton.”

Patton’s heart soared at the last sentence. “Goodnight, Lolo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed you will.”

It was still a few moments before Logan finally hung up. As soon as he did, Patton pulled up Roman’s text conversation. He sent a message before getting up from the bed to grab his shoes.

Pappy Padre Patton: I just got off the phone with Lo. I’ll be over soon.

Prince Roman: You don’t have to Pat.

Pappy Padre Patton: I want to! I wanna be there for you and our little emo. But right now I think you need me there.

Roman couldn’t help but smile at this best friend. He loved how Patton would always be there for him. He sent one more text.

Prince Roman: Drive safe. And text me when you get here. I don’t want the doorbell to wake up Virgil.

Pappy Padre Patton: Will do!

Roman breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t have to be alone after hearing such horrific things. Despite his inner demons taunting him for his weight, Roman went and grabbed himself a couple cookies and a glass of milk. Once he collected both, he sat on the couch and gently nibbled on the cookies while he waited for Patton to arrive. He needed them to help his stress level at the moment.

About 20 minutes later Roman’s phone lit up. He looked down and read the text.

Pappy Padre Patton: Just pulled up.

Again, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Gently moving the cookie plate over on the couch, Roman stood and went to unlock the door. As soon as he did he was enveloped in a hug by the younger boy. Roman gladly returned the hug. After a moment both let go and moved further inside of the house.

“How’s Virgil doing?” Patton asked as he slid his shoes off.

“He’s still sound asleep. Logan said his worse attacks leave him pretty tired.”

“Our poor kiddo. How are you doing? That had to be a hard thing to hear.”

“Honestly?” Roman asked as the two sat on the couch. “I’m feeling a lot. Anger. Worry. Protectiveness. No one should have to go through that. Especially by someone they call family.”

Patton nodded in agreement as he held Roman’s hand, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it. “Family is defined by bonds, not blood. But I’m here to help in anyway I can. I already told Logan and he told me that I’d be really good at helping keep everyone calm. Well more calm. I don’t think any of us can really be calm with this.”

“He’s right. You’ve always known how to help bring my emotions in. You helped Virgil yesterday. And I’m sure you’ve helped Logan too,” Roman smiled fondly at Patton. “I think you’re going to play a bigger part than you think.”

Patton leaned in and hugged Roman again. “I hope I can help. I know you and Lo are going to do more of the evidence side but if I can help at all with that I’d like to.”

Roman hugged his friend back. “Actually, if you want you can write down important dates and what happened when I find them. I started after I talked to Logan but I think with the two of us working it’d go faster.”

“Sure.”

Roman grabbed the notebook he was using and passed it over to Patton. The two got to work writing down any important information the two could think of. A couple hours passed before Patton’s stomach growled. Roman chuckled at it.

“Why don’t we take a break and get something to eat? I think we still have some pasta left over. Or we can get something else.” Roman suggested. He was willing to eat, which told him that he was stress eating, but he didn’t care.

“Pasta’s fine with me. That is, if there’s enough to leave Virgil some for whenever he wakes up.”

“Let’s go look.”

The two boys stand and go to the kitchen on slightly wobbly legs caused from sitting too long. Patton looked in the fridge and pulled out the leftovers, doing his signature ‘Leftovers Dance’ as he dished up two plates worth. Roman giggled along with his friends antics, giving a small gingle for the younger to prepare the plates to. As Patton put the rest in the fridge, Roman put Patton’s plate in the microwave first. Afterward, he leaning against the counter to wait for the ding It was nice to go back to some normalcy between the two. Since Virgil had stopped talking to him, Roman seemed lost in thought and more distant. Now that they’re talking again, that had completely gone away. Roman teased him in fun and it wasn’t random just to act normal. Any comebacks were naturally flowing.

The two continued on for a while longer like that. They were at peace with each other, but each holding the same paralyzing fear in the back of their minds. It bore down onto their shoulders, signifying its presence as they wrote down dates and times and screenshotted several conversations. It was hard, but it needed to be done to help that paralyzing fear drift away into nothingness.

A buzz of Patton’s phone alerted him that it was almost his curfew. Patton thought he would have had more time. He thought that he was able to see Virgil when he woke up, but he was wrong.

“I gotta go.” Patton mumbled, not looking up from his phone. He knew that Roman was staring at him, that much was clear. What he didn't know by fixing his gaze down on his phone, though, was that Roman held the most understanding eyes.

“Probably for the best? Not that I don’t love your company,” Roman tripped over his words for a second before regaining his train of thought. “Virgil is tricky, and if he knows you know about what happened, he’ll see that as a third person he has to protect. He might not go to the police if… if he has you to protect too.”

“But I can take care of myself pretty well! Years of foster care has-” Patton looked up to try to defend himself, but Roman carried on.

“And I’m not saying that you can’t! He thinks he has to protect me of all people. I have a bodyguard on speed dial, and I’m also not… bad in the physical department,” Roman didn’t mean to bring up his body, but it happened. Even if he wasn’t at his goal weight with his dream muscle mass, he was still a force to be reckoned with. “It’s all in his head. To him, he’s the only thing standing in the way of his dad hurting us. If he… if he steps aside, he thinks we’re done for.”

“That must tell a lot of how it is to live with Mr. Sanders,” Patton paused, swallowing in an attempt to curb the tears that wanted to well in his eyes. “What that man must do to him…”

“Which is why we are doing all this.” Roman gestured to the papers strewn about his kitchen table.

“For him.” The ginger smiled softly and slightly crooked.

“For him.” Roman echoed, pushing his chair out with a small squeak as he stood. Patton did the same, and the two took one step each to meet for a hug.

Patton hugs were the definition of comfort. That fact stood high and mighty whether the person receiving the hug was shorter or taller than him. Patton would wrap his hands around someone underneath their armpits and hold them with just the right amount of pressure. He would grip onto the cloth of the person’s shirt or jacket and smooth that in between his fingers as long as the hug lasted as a secondary soothing tactic. The thing that made Patton’s hugs so iconic, though, was that he would nuzzle into whoever he was hugging and sway slightly on his feet. He was usually on his tiptoes, but he made it work. Another thing that made Patton’s hugs so comfortable was the fact that he was heavier set, and that he had a warm body temperature. He was always warm, so that made hugs impart his body heat onto whoever he was hugging.

Roman hugs were the definition of safe. Since he had a tall stature, most of the people that he hugged were shorter than him. This information was vital, considering a few facts. When Roman would hug someone, he would put his strong arms around their shoulders, and always around their shoulders. One, or both, of his hands cupped the actual shoulder of the person, gripping slightly as if to say ‘I’m here; will protect you.’ It was either that, or one of his hands would be flat in between someone’s shoulder blades with his thumb rubbing over the fabric. The other hand would be on the back of the person’s neck. This was what Roman was doing for Patton at the moment, along with playing with some of Patton’s longer hairs near his neck. The last thing that Roman did in a hug was place his chin or his cheek on top of the person’s head. It was the final piece of the puzzle that made the embrace say ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’

Both of the friends enjoyed each other’s hugs immensely. Part of the reason that they hugged the way that they did was because they both modeled their usual hugging form after what the other liked. Their hugs grew together, just like their lives. Their hugging style also reflected their personalities in a way, which was mostly a coincidence. Roman and Patton went together. Their personalities matched each other beautifully. But most importantly to them, they fit perfectly in each other’s arms.

Roman just hoped that he could do that for Virgil.

Patton prayed that he could do that for Logan one day.

Both of the boys pulled away rather reluctantly. It was a joke among their friends that the two couldn’t keep their hands off each other, which was a cruel twisting on what was actually going on. Patton needed reassurance of Roman’s presence, which he delivered through touch. Roman needed the consistency of Patton, which he delivered through touch. They both helped with the other’s issues in different ways, but the touch was the most recognizable by others.

“Drive safely, okay?” Roman asked of Patton. The younger boy was still at the ends of his fingertips, as Roman had yet to remove his calloused hands from the other’s shoulders. “I love you, Pat.”

“I love you too, my friend.” The words flew from his mouth, sweet like honey but quick like a waterfall. They were usual, and they were lovely.

At that, Roman pulled Patton in for one more hug. This one was very short, almost comically so compared to the other longer one. Patton then proceeded to smile up at his taller friend. Roman returned the grin despite the fearful and sad emotions that the longer hug held.

Of course, after the course of the day, that long hug wasn’t just so the two could hold each other. It was a comforting tactic, and a way to show that the other was safe. It was holding their best friend in their arms for a while as the world crashed down around them. It was clutching onto the only consistency in their lives as fear of what to come rushed through them. It was desperate, it was fear, and it was them.

Patton left without another word. He helped Roman sort some of the papers, though, but neither boy spoke. Neither wanted to break the fragility of the air around them. After they stopped talking, the seriousness of the situation weighed down on them. It plunged into their hearts again as they sorted the papers. Roman didn’t have the emotional strength to go through talking about what has happened for the fourth time that day. Patton didn’t have the knowledge or confidence to bring up a piece of the puzzle. They would let the silence roam until Patton left and Virgil woke.

What the two didn’t know was as Patton was stepping over the threshold of the home, Virgil was stirring in his sleep. Stirring may not have been the most accurate term to describe it though. It was more along the lines of tossing, trashing, and fighting. Fighting, or fearing. Inside his slumber, memories were forcefully brought before his eyes.

The glint off of the knife. A cackle ringing in his ears. Menacing, creeping forward, with a spark of something in his eyes. Was it joy? Was it reward? Was it happiness? Virgil didn’t know. All he knew was that there was a knife coming toward his chest and plunging into it around his ribs again, and again, and again, and again, and suddenly he could breathe. His throat was closing, no, there was a strong hand on his throat. Pressing down, down, tighter on his neck to stop breathing. The knife, strong, sharp, and ready to hurt, being raised up, up, up again before it came down onto Virgil right on top of his heart–

A scream ripped itself out of Virgil’s throat, his body jolting awake and upright. Virgil frantically scanned the room, momentarily lost again. He was breathing heavily, but not quickly like during an attack. Virgil swallowed, hands gripping the grey sheets as he came back to the present. He was sweating as well. The dream had been too real, too vibrant for his liking. He felt as though he were in a movie and the main character just woke up in a cold sweat from a prophetic dream. Like in the Order of the Phoenix when Harry dreamt of Nagini killing Mr. Weasley.

But this wasn’t a prophetic dream. It was a nightmare constructed by events of the near past to torment Virgil’s mind.

He hadn’t been fully aware that he had screamed until Roman came bursting in through the door. He was breathing heavily, now more than the calming down Virgil. The one sitting in the bed knew how to handle nightmares. For the most part.

“Are you okay?” Roman frantically asked, still huffing, as he walked to the bed. He must have ran up the stairs.

“I’m fine. Just a nightmare, but did you carry me up the stairs?” Virgil was already rolling off the panic of the dream, so he skipped that part of his current thought process.

“What?” Roman was highly confused, and still highly concerned. He gently sat himself down on the bed.

“You just ran up the stairs. This bedroom is upstairs. I have no memory of walking up the stairs.” Virgil seemed to Roman oddly calm for someone who just woke up screaming. He personally had to take several hours, many hugs, and warm drinks to calm himself from nightmares where he woke up in a rush, or screaming.

“I carried you up here, yeah. You crashed after your panic attack. Virgil, you’re surprisingly light and I do strength training.” Roman gave Virgil a cautious look, like he was a stray cat that could run away at any moment.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Virgil tried to say, only for his voice to break in the middle of the sentence. No, he didn’t need to break down again. He was fine.

“Sorry, probably because of the events of the past three days.” It was the older’s turn to be more nonchalant.

“Fair... point.” Virgil took a deep breath, steadying out the last of his heavy breathing. Suddenly, the covers over his legs and most of his body became way too warm. He kicked them off the best he could without accidently kicking Roman. He was still sitting on the foot of the bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to talk about it?” Roman asked after Virgil kicked off the comforter rather roughly.

“It was just a nightmare. Happens a lot.” Virgil settled on as he pulled on his knees to his chest. After a curious look from Roman, he elaborated, “I have them just about every night. ‘M lucky I didn’t have one last night.”

Roman sucked in a breath, “How do you... Get through them?”

“‘N’ayez pas peur de vos rêves, car il n’y a plus grand maux de dépenser plus orienté vers les temps.’ An old saying in our family.” Virgil calmed his breathing down fairly quickly, certainly much quicker than whenever he had a panic attack. His nightmares didn’t invoke panic attacks, but only because of that key information his mom told him.

“Lo siento mi amor, but I don’t speak whatever you just spoke.” Roman chuckled slightly, putting in a dash of his own language for ‘I’m sorry, my darling.’

“French. I’m fluent, n’ my mom was too. It means ‘Do not be afraid of your dreams, for there are bigger evils to spend more time facing,’” he paused, looking down before looking back up. “And Spanish. Really?”

“What! Mi Madre is Latina. She spoke Spanish to my older brother and I so that we could be bilingual like her.” Roman explained very casually.

Virgil was about to respond to Roman’s confession, but Roman’s phone rang before he could do so. Roman screwed his eyebrows together, confusion rushing through him. He shared a look with Virgil who had a very similar expression on his face.

Silently, Roman dug his phone out of his pocket. He took a moment to look at the caller ID, a flash of recognition flashing in his eyes. Virgil didn’t understand it, nor did he know if he wanted to. Something inside him told him to leave the room and give Roman peace with his phone call, but he didn’t. He stayed put, which was out of the ordinary for him. Virgil always left when someone was having a phone call. That or they left the room themself.

“Hello? This is Roman Prince.” Roman spoke into the phone that was now up against his ear.

“Princey, you are needed at the studio immediately. Don’t ignore my calls again.” The sharp voice of his manager rang through his ears.

“I’m sorry. I must have had my phone on silent.” Roman apologized as he maneuvered his body into a more comfortable and closed off sitting position.

“Don’t let it happen again. And bring your guitar.” Roman looked up at Virgil at that, hoping that the other heard that too. Roman never was asked to bring his old Gibson.

“Okay? I’ll be there in twenty. Is it-” Roman made a groan sound of sorts as he was cut off by the line going dead. He was going to ask if he could bring Virgil, but his manager was always straight to the point. She never allowed time for extra things or nonsensical sentences. It was interesting to say the least.

“What was that?” Virgil asked after several moments of silence between the two. Roman gave a tilt of his head, complete with another confused look.

“I think,” Roman began, holding out the ‘i’ in ‘think’ in a singsong type tone. “My manager just called me into the studio.”

Virgil gave a dry chuckle, facial expression stone again. “You’re kidding right?”

“Not at all,” Roman began to get up from the bed as he shrugged his shoulders. “This happens more frequently than you’d think.”

“But, Princey-” Virgil tried to start, getting out of the bed as well.

“Hey, this way you can see my studio! It was fun seeing Patton see it for the first time. Gold.” Roman interrupted, not really knowing he was doing so. He was caught in his head again as he left the room to go get ready.

“Princey!” Virgil groaned, mostly to himself at this point. He quickly followed Roman in the hallway, upon which he saw him still determinedly walking away.

“I wonder if your reaction will be like Patton’s. Only time will tell I guess. Either way I think it’ll be interesting.”

“Damn it, Roman, will you fucking stop a minute?!” Virgil yelled.

Roman stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Virgil, slight confusion on his face. “That is the first time you have said my name. All week.”

“Yeah. Well. I needed to get your attention. And calling you “Princey” wasn’t cutting it.” For some reason, Virgil’s cheeks heated up.

“Why did you wait so long?” Couriousty was clear in Roman’s tone.

Virgil looked at his feet, pondering the question for a minute. “I-I was scared I guess. Of what it meant. Names mean a lot and to use it meant something. I was scared of what that meant.”

Even though what Virgil said didn’t make the most sense, Roman understood what he was trying to say. Saying his name meant that Virgil was now a major part in Roman’s life. Where Patton started to use nicknames once he was close with the person as a sign of the relationship, Virgil was the opposite. He used nicknames so if he lost a person it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

“I get it, Virgil. But as much as it’ll pain you to know I’m not going anywhere.” There was a slight playful smile on Roman’s lips.

“But don’t you think it’ll ruin your image for me to be seen at the studio with you?”

“I don’t know if it will or not. Honestly I don’t care. I’m tired of not being able to be the real me. I’m forced to write songs a certain way and that’s not who I am. Not completely. So let them see me be with someone who doesn’t fit the ‘Princey’ stereotype.”

Virgil was dumbfounded. He never thought that Roman would be willing to give up his reputation. What’s even more surprising is Roman’s willing to give it up for him. “I-I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Say… say you’ll come to the studio with me.”

“Alright.” Virgil said after a moment of deliberation.

“Great. Meet you back in the living room in ten? I need to change and get my stuff together.”

“Okay…”

Roman turned back around and walked to his room. Virgil returned to his room to change out of his sweat stained clothes. Even though he would stick out like a sore thumb, there was no reason for him to do it and reek of sweat at the same time. Once he was in a clean outfit, he stopped in the bathroom to steal some deodorant before walking down to the living room.

Roman walked down a couple minutes later, carrying a guitar case and a beat up old notebook. “Ready, Panic! At the Everywhere?”

“You already used that one.” Virgil fired back as he rolled his eye. The two walked out of the house and towards Roman’s car without further words, ready for a long and interesting night.

Roman pulled his car into the driveway, returning from recording Psychic in the studio, not really caring that it was his Ma’s spot to park. Virgil was leaning his head back against the seat in a feeble attempt to sleep, but looked up when he noticed they had stopped moving. A quick look at the stereo’s clock told him it was almost four in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt, Roman following suit.

The two dragged themselves from the car and up to the front door. It took Roman a couple of tries and a yawn to get the key in to unlock the door. He let Virgil in first before walking to the couch and throwing himself on it, not bothering to take his shoes off at the door. Virgil sat next to him and yawned.

“Why did that take so fucking long?” Virgil asked sleepily, rubbing at his face.

“Welcome to the life of a performer.” Roman answered as Virgil leaned into him.

He lazily, and quite unconsciously, wrapped his arms around the lanky boy. Virgil felt secure in his arms, but it felt different than the security he felt with Logan or Patton. It was almost if there was something more to the embrace. However, Virgil’s mind was so clouded with sleep he couldn’t put his finger on what was different.

Virgil relaxed into Roman even further, soon drifting off to sleep. Roman smiled and shifted carefully as to not wake up the sleeping one so the two could lay down flat. This meant that Virgil had to be slightly on top of Roman, but he didn’t mind. The astoundingly minimal weight was relaxing and grounding. After the rollercoaster of a day, it was just what Roman needed.

Within minutes with Virgil sound asleep in his arms, Roman fell into the deep world of dreams as well. The two were still sleeping soundly when three hours later the front door unlocked. Andrea, Roman’s Ma, walked through the threshold and held open the door for her wife Cinthia. Once Roman’s Madre was inside, Andrea locked the door behind her. When she turned around, she noticed Cinthia standing at the entrance to the living room and starring. When she moved forward herself, she saw the duo cuddled together on the couch sleeping. A happy smile spread across Cinthia’s lips, while a concerned gaze settled on Andrea’s. Roman hadn’t told them anything about anyone coming over, and this person certainly was not Patton.

Cinthia calmed Andrea with a light touch of her shoulder. Silently, Roman’s Madre pecked a kiss on her wife’s lips before taking one of the bags she carried in her hand again. Andrea took the second before she was pulled away by her wife. Both tiptoed up the stairs as quietly as they could as to not wake the two boys asleep in their living room.

next part

hello im back and im very tired but there probably isnt a beta reader in this world who i appricache more than @lovecrazyjennybear? like,,, she became my co-writer. what could be better than that? i love her. i love sleep. im really tired. its 1am. i wanna sleep. but yeah jen is amazing and did amazing stuff for this chapter. the entire logan and roman conversation was basically all her. yeah. shes awesome

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #virgil angst #roman angst #fail’s writing #sanders sides fanfiction #im so #tired #kajsffsad

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “Before the Storm” [ 1.11 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

CH-CH-CH-CHANGES – The sophomore stars throw their hat in the ring for the chance to attend a highly regarded performance summer program, but only three students can progress from Adams to the final audition. Lucas has a daunting decision to make.

60 Minutes (15K words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Birds of a Feather ] [ S1 Synopsis ] [ The World Will Never Be the Same → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The halls of Adams greet us for the penultimate episode, cutting between shots of the setting we’ve come to know and love. Through windows in the doors, students rehearse in the music and dance studios. The locker hallways are pristine and decorated for the end of term. Graduation memorabilia is all around.

As the scenery shifts, the voice of Principal Hunter lectures on the importance of the school, everything that the institution stands for. Next to bulletin boards where students are welcome to jot down their summer plans to share, a display case in the atrium shows photos and mementos from the past school year. Les Mis is certainly included, as well as the winter showcase.

Jack: Adams exists to give students the chance to pursue a passion. Something important to them, so pivotal to their future endeavors and true happiness that they can’t even fathom doing anything else. It’s a silly notion, to some, but I’ve always admired that piece to it. That chance to give a young mind the power and potential to do whatever it is that they’ve always dreamed about.

Focus eases in on one advertisement on the bulletin board in particular – an informational flyer about the Kossal Summer Program, which has been referenced multiple times since the pilot. In bold lettering, the text “rising juniors only,” seems sharply emphasized.

Jack: More than anything, I try to give our students as much opportunity as possible. Getting here was the first step, and then I want to help them reach higher. Achieve further. Find access to doors and avenues that they may not have even known existed or felt capable of entering. I work hard to create that space. I work hard with all of the faculty and staff here to foster that environment, where any student can come to a safe, inclusive environment and throw their hat in the ring.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

It becomes clear why JACK HUNTER is monologuing. He is in his disciplinary meeting with WYATT LIVINGSTON, following their deduction that he is the one running AAA Confessions.

Jack: Thus, it’s always such a shame when someone deems to take advantage of this space, and twists it into something it shouldn’t be.

Wyatt doesn’t seem all that impressed. Jack questions him on why the hell he would create a page like this, or barring that, be a part of it in the first place. Wyatt claims he didn’t make the Insta, but Jack presses the question again. Not buying it.

Wyatt dispels Jack’s rosy view of the school, claiming it’s no oasis for creativity and collaboration. It’s a cesspool of egomaniacs and cutthroat competition, and he knows it. The whole reason that the AAAC even works at all is because of the collective terrible attitude at the school. It’s a “safe environment” for them to take shots at each other and be as repulsive and reductive as they all actually are.

Jack snaps at this, claiming that’s not entirely true. He references the very targeted attack on a single student just a few days ago with Lucas, which Wyatt clearly orchestrated and was not just the full petty whimsy of the student body. Unable to fully deny this, Wyatt admits his hand in making some of the initial posts, but he didn’t orchestrate anything. If anything, the Lucas White Trash Dump Day is a perfect example of what he’s talking about – he lit a match, and the sophomore class set the whole forest on fire with it.

Wyatt: Besides, it’s not my fault that everyone hates Lucas. He does that to himself.

Jack doesn’t want to hear anymore. He doesn’t think he can face it. He moves onto discussing punishment, positing what he believes are fair consequences – expulsion, effective immediately. This finally seems to knock Wyatt off his high horse. He claims that’s bullshit considering one student can beat up another and not get kicked out, but he makes a couple of mean anonymous posts and he’s on the chopping block?

Jack argues that it’s the principle of the thing, and that every situation is different. The situation between him and Lucas was an isolated incident with bigoted implications, whereas the page has been an ongoing toxic presence at the school –

Wyatt: But I don’t deserve to get punished for it! I didn’t create the page!

Jack: Fine. Fine, if that’s the case, then tell me who did. Tell me who should take the fall for this, and we can renegotiate your involvement.

Wyatt can’t, because he doesn’t know. Nobody does. Jack takes his silence as an admission of guilt, but it’s evident that he is truly distraught about taking the consequences for it. Perhaps the severity of the punishment may be a bit too harsh…

After a beat, Jack claims that he will take some time to determine the proper punishment. Until then, Wyatt would be smart to keep his head down and enjoy his last couple weeks of sophomore year without further trouble.

Wyatt rises in a huff, storming out. Jack waits until he exits before letting his composed facade crumble, obviously overwhelmed by the chaos this whole situation has caused.

Hopefully, it’s about to come to an end. But not without some major decisions…

Cue opening titles.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

ANGELA MOORE is at her desk in the black box classroom, fretfully flipping through the schedule of the touring spot she’s been offered. She’s cross-referencing it with her personal calendar, obviously not thrilled with how much it’s consuming of her current life.

She’s been waiting so long for an opportunity like this. It’s her dream, yet now that it’s in front of her she doesn’t know what to do with it. Angela lifts her head, gazing blankly at the empty classroom around her. Wondering what it would be like to leave it behind…

SHAWN HUNTER breaks her out of her daze, entering with coffee and a breakfast bagel. He hands it to her and she takes it gratefully. He tentatively asks if she’s made any decisions yet, to which she gives a definitive no. Still very much in the realm of indecision.

Shawn seems relieved that it’s not a guaranteed yes, but being in uncertain territory isn’t much better. But uncertain ground they’ll continue to tread…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Ain’t It Fun” as performed by Tufts Beezlebubs || Performed by Nigel Chey, Yindra Amino, Chai Fresco, Nick Yogi, Clarissa Cruz, and Haley Fisher

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

NIGEL CHEY leads this acapella rendition, playfully rehearsing with his fellow sophomores. It’s one of the few numbers we’ve seen so far that gives due focus to the other performers in the classroom, and it gives an upbeat (if subtly ominous) musical start to the episode.

He dances around the stage with YINDRA AMINO, CHAI FRESCO, NICK YOGI, CLARISSA CRUZ, and HALEY FISHER. In keeping with the truce, most of the techies are hanging around with them and half-grooving along while working on set pieces. DYLAN ORLANDO sways with ASHER GARCIA in a bouncy waltz, the latter somewhat singing along.

DAVE WILLIAMS shows off his usual terrible dancing. Nigel sings directly to JADE BEAMON at one point, and she just about passes out. Yogi films the jam session with his A/V club camera to commemorate the end of the year.

Absolutely charmed.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

While the acapella underscores, FARKLE MINKUS is making his way through the hallway after finishing up at his locker, headphones blocking out the rest of the world. He seems a little out of it, traversing the school with less of the impatient, high-maintenance energy than he was bursting with earlier in the year. Subtle, but definitely a shift.

DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON catch up to him, startling him into conversation. As he removes his headphones, he struggles to catch up to their fast-paced questioning.

Darby: … your audition number? We want to start taking bets on whether you’re going to be able to best Maya or not in this final epic diva showdown.

Farkle: My audi – okay, slow down pixies, and start over. I can’t understand you at warp speed.

They eagerly ask him if he has decided what song he’s using for his audition. Suddenly feeling as though he’s forgotten something, he asks them what the hell they’re talking about.

Sarah: The Kossal auditions? They’re this weekend. Preliminaries are going to be all this week. [ Like he’s stupid. ] You know, the most coveted opportunity of the year?

Farkle: Oh. Oh… yeah. Yeah, I guess I forgot.

Sarah raises her eyebrows, clearly shocked. Darby breezes right past it, telling him he should really start thinking about it, although he’s likely to do amazing regardless. As they flutter away, Farkle shakes off his daze.

He honestly can’t believe he forgot about the program he’s been waiting all year to audition for. But suppose when you actually get friends and stop being all-consumed by your one passion, that’ll do it to you.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

ERIC MATTHEWS is sitting down with RILEY MATTHEWS, obviously excited about whatever information he’s about to share with her. She still has her focus set on a different matter, though, and figures that’s what the meeting is going to be about.

Riley, hopefully: You’ve figured out who is running AAAC?

Eric: … still working on that. But making progress, undoubtedly.

Riley sighs, slouching back in her seat. Eric promises her that what he has to tell her is just as exciting, another great opportunity here at the end of term. He goes on to explain that at the conclusion to each school year, Michael Jacobs and the school board fund an art gala in which all the major art magnet schools from the area come together to celebrate their achievements of the past year and share in their love of the craft.

He slides a small invitation across the table for her to look at. On the front is a fancy-looking ballroom where the event is usually held, with details and logistics on the backside.

Eric: Now, obviously Jack and I will be attending, as principal and MVP of Adams.

[ Riley glances at him, giggling at his given title for himself. ]

Eric: But we’re allowed to bring one student as a representative for our school, and we were thinking you.

Riley: [ blinking, taking a moment to realize she heard him correctly ] Me – me? You want me?

Eric: The nomination was unanimous.

Riley is evidently stunned by this. Eric goes on to explain all that she helped achieve at AAA that year, particularly how instrumental she was in bridging the divide and improving the overall quality of culture in the sophomore class. There is no one else they can think of more deserving of the opportunity. She should be proud of everything she’s accomplished this year.

The caveat, however, is that the gala conflicts with the district-wide audition evening for Kossal. So should she get chosen from the school-level auditions to progress onward, she would have to decide which one to attend. Riley claims she’s not planning on auditioning anyway.

Eric: What? Why on Earth not?

Riley: Are you – are you serious? You literally just said to me –

Eric: You know, you’re right. You’re right, shh. We’ll unpack that later.

Eric opts instead to highlight all the fun aspects to the gala that Riley should start gearing up for. She gets to dress up! There’s performances, and dancing, and great food! Oh, and she gets to bring a plus one, so she should start thinking about who she might like to bring along.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Class has assembled for the day, bustling into their seats and alive with restless end-of-term energy as Angela brings their attention to the front. She goes on to talk further about the Kossal program, how it is an intensive six-week summer camp in upstate New York where participants are deeply immersed in the art of performance. It is one of the most highly anticipated opportunities of the year for the sophomore class. The program boasts many notable alumni, and they’ve rarely had a student attend it from AAA who didn’t see success in their future.

As she describes it, it’s evident that MAYA HART and Farkle are both totally invested. ZAY BABINEAUX seems inspired too, but less openly determined than the other two divas. Everyone else is somewhere in between, indecisive about whether it’s worth it to try for it at all.

Angela continues on, explaining the catch – given it’s highly selective criteria, the audition process is staggered and competitive. It starts at the school level, where they will select three of their best students to move on to the district-wide auditions. From there, one lucky student from Adams will get to experience the program.

The techies are like… great. This week is going to be hell, isn’t it. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ exchanges a look with DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA, who look less than enthused. Angela dismisses them to work on their auditions or final projects, whichever they deem fit.

In the wings, Farkle pulls Maya aside. In an attempt to preserve their new and blossoming friendship, he proposes that they should help one another with their auditions. Essentially, be there to support one another rather than fall into their usual habits. Given the circumstances, it’s very unlikely that they both won’t progress to the next round, and he doesn’t want their naturally competitive instincts to come between them.

Maya is surprised and a bit hesitant towards this initiative, but she’s not going to be the one to cause trouble. Besides, as far as she can tell, Farkle does seem entirely genuine in his motivations. She agrees with a “hell yeah,” taking a pass on the drama if they can hack it.

They shake on it, agreeing they’ll be on each other’s teams.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Zay is at his usual table, YINDRA AMINO and NIGEL CHEY occupying the other primary seats around him. They’re engaging in their typical comfortable conversation, Zay allowing them to take the brunt of it.

His focus shifts when CHARLIE GARDNER approaches with lunch in hand, coming to stand awkwardly by their table. He and Zay hold eye contact for a long moment, before Charlie asks if there’s room for him to join them. Although there’s clear tension, Yindra and Nigel don’t seem to pick up on it.

Zay claims there’s room, because he actually has to get going. He rises to leave without much more to say to Charlie. It’s clear this stings a bit, and Charlie watches him go before sliding into the seat he just vacated.

Yindra snaps him out of it when she asks whether or not he’s planning on auditioning for the Kossal program. Charlie says no, as he has a family obligation – there’s this big communal springfest dinner at his church that same night that is super important to his parents. His mother is part of the planning committee, and all that.

Nigel explains that he and Yindra were both considering it, but with only three spots and three known divas, it sort of seems like improbable odds. Charlie nods along, but he’s not really paying that much attention to their complaints. His gaze keeps lingering on the doors where Zay left.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

LUCAS FRIAR hastily makes his way from the hall to his bedroom towards the door, obviously on a mission. He has his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, slipping on his boots.

Lucas: I’ll be there in like five minutes, you can pick me up at the usual corner. [ a beat ] No, tell Dylan he’s not coming over. [ beat ] Yes, I have the fireworks, now could you –

From the kitchen, his mother calls out for him. This is pretty unusual, so Lucas tells Asher he’ll be there in a minute before hanging up and sauntering back towards the kitchen.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

Lucas pokes his head in, finding GRACE FRIAR seated at their small dining table. She’s petite, disarmingly beautiful, and looks deceptively too young to have a teenage son. She asks if he has a minute to chat about something. He starts to state that he has plans, but rather than explaining to his mother that he’s off to go set off illegal fireworks with his dumbass friends, he figures he can spare the few seconds to talk.

Lucas settles into the chair across from her, and the closer we are to her the more the cracks in her dainty exterior seem to show. There are healing bruises on her face from the events of 1.09, and once you notice them underneath the makeup, it’s hard to unsee.

She goes on to explain that through one of her friends at work, she was able to get in touch with the dean of admissions at McCullough, a private all-boys boarding school in upstate New York. Given Lucas’s excellent academic record at AAA – behavioral record aside – Grace believes that if he applied, he could totally get a spot in their elite student body for the last two years of high school. She wants to put his application in for the fall, if that’s something he might want.

Lucas, stunned: You mean… you mean like leave triple A?

Grace hurriedly explains that she knows AAA was never Lucas’s top choice as far as schooling. He never had any artistic interests, there were just no… better alternatives. But this school has excellent reviews, top rated academics. It’s in the countryside rather than the city, so maybe the fresh air could do him good. A little space. And all of its alumni go on to have successful careers as doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs – whatever Lucas decides he wants to do.

Lucas doesn’t know what to think. Never before has there been another option besides AAA, and the mere prospect of it seems impossible to fathom. Not to mention, so much has changed in the past year at the school he always claimed he hated. He doesn’t know how to answer.

Grace claims that he should take the next couple of weeks to consider it, as the application isn’t due until then anyway. It just might be a viable different route, an… escape from everything going on here. A loaded conversation to drop so suddenly…

Angela, pre-lap: How is anybody supposed to make a decision like this?

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Angela is hanging out with Eric in his office, both of them relaxing after the students have cleared out for the day. They’re sharing sodas in fancy glasses (i.e., what they’re allowed to consume on school property), and Eric is leaning back with his feet up on his desk as they muse.

Angela laments her current situation, definitely feeling torn between two worlds.

Angela: It’s like, all my life, I had one dream. This gig, this draining, paradoxical, invigorating art of performing, that was it for me. All of this from acing an audition to getting a spot on a tour or production, I mean, that was the whole plan, you know? That would fall into place, and the universe would do the rest.

Eric: I hear you, sister. Amen.

Angela: But here I am, finally steps away from the dream. It’s right in front of me. I can taste it. And… I’m holding back. I’m hesitating. How can I be hesitating now?

As Eric points out, there’s a chance her dreams have changed. She certainly has, as has he, and everyone else they know. Hell, look at how much they’ve all grown in just this school year alone.

Eric: Beginning of this year, Jack and I fought about everything.

Angela: Believe me, I remember.

Eric: You and Shawn couldn’t even look at each other, and the school was at war. Quite literally, given everything that conspired after.

Now, all things considered, they’ve found harmony. They’ve found peace, and they’re on their way to almost quelling the last remaining symbol of bad blood. They opened themselves to change, and it turned out to be exactly what they needed.

Eric: Change happens, and it’s scary. But it can be good. You shouldn’t run from it. In fact, it may behoove you to listen to what it’s trying to tell you.

Angela ruminates on this, taking a long sip of her cola. Much to think about.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Zay is eating dinner with OMAR BABINEAUX and DONNA BABINEAUX, attempting to find the right time to tell them about the summer program. As Omar wraps up discussing a new development at work, Zay takes a deep breath and gears up to speak. Donna beats him to it, however, suddenly remembering an important news bulletin they meant to share with him.

His older sister Jada was selected for an exclusive study abroad program this summer. She’ll be studying fashion in Milan and Paris, so they’re planning a family vacation there as well to take advantage of the opportunity. It’s an exciting update, but definitely throws a potential wrench into Zay’s quest for Kossal.

Donna: Isn’t that exciting?

Zay: Oh, yeah. Yeah, that’s… I mean, dope.

Omar: What were you going to say, Zay? Looked like you had something on your mind.

Zay: Just that, uh… my grades have really turned around since fall semester. So the tutoring did actually help. That’s all.

He doesn’t push the issue further, allowing his parents to congratulate him and take back control of the conversation. Might as well be a sign… right?

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Jack and Shawn are having their traditional dinner. Shawn raises his glass in a toast, cheering on Jack for catching the dumbass who was running the AAAC. Jack takes the praise, but hesitantly. After they both drink, Jack expresses his qualms about how to progress with punishment towards Wyatt.

Shawn shares no such reluctance to be brutal.

Shawn: What do you do when you catch a cold, Jackie?

Jack: Down a pint of Gatorade and hope for the best.

Shawn: [ with an eye roll ] Okay, how about a malignant mole? A tumor? Any sort of cancerous presence?

Jack: Well I’ve been lucky enough not to –

Shawn: You remove it. You cut the thing out so it’s disease can’t spread. It’s that simple.

Jack points out that some might say similar rhetoric about, say… Lucas, to which Shawn scoffs. He claims that they’re completely different situations.

Shawn: Listen, Friar is a mess all his own. I would know. But he isn’t going around using slurs towards other students, or posting increasingly vitriolic hate just to rile people up. There’s a difference.

Jack references the fact that Wyatt claims he’s not the moderator, that there’s another student running it. Shawn blows this off, stating that has to be a lie.

Shawn: [ with his mouth full ] I would know. I used to lie to get out of trouble all the time.

Jack: Once again, you continue to reassure me of your right state of mind to be teaching the youth of tomorrow…

Shawn states that Jack knows what the right decision is, he’s just wallowing in it. And if he won’t do the right thing, then he’ll just take matters into his own hands. Jack knows he’s just shooting the breeze, but he is also like don’t do anything stupid please, I have enough to deal with.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

That night, it’s just CORY MATTHEWS and Riley there for dinner at the apartment. In the midst of the meal, Cory congratulates her on being selected as representative, and there’s a soft moment between them reflecting on just how far she’s come in a year. He’s so, so proud of her.

She agrees that there is a lot to think about, like what she’s going to wear and who she should bring along. Cory additionally mentions the decision over which song to perform for her audition for the summer program, until Riley expresses that she isn’t planning on auditioning.

Much like Eric, Cory is totally opposed to this notion. He states that she should at least throw her hat in the ring, and it’s even more low stakes for her considering if she doesn’t make it to the district level, she has another plan already in place.

Cory: Other potential conflicts aside, you shouldn’t keep yourself from getting the chance to run the bases by never letting yourself take one swing at bat.

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

This sentiment is still lingering with Riley as she gets ready for bed. She hesitates, glancing up at her moodboard to search for inspiration.

It’s drastically different than when it was first made, more intricate and decorated than ever. Lots of little details have been added, including photos of her classmates, playbills from Les Mis, and lots of other little mementos throughout the school year.

She zeroes in on one item in particular – a scrap of notebook paper. It’s the note she and Lucas were passing back in forth in 1.10, during Maya and Farkle’s rendition of “Bop to the Top.” While the majority of it is just a back and forth about how Lucas doesn’t know what the movie is and he thinks Maya and Farkle aren’t that good, the most important statement is the last.

As Riley is defending their performing abilities, he’s followed up with a very bold counterargument: “You’re better.”

It’s evident that is the reason the conversation is hanging up at all. She hangs on this, lightly smiling… wheels are beginning to turn in her head again…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie shows up to the auditorium early, finding Zay on the stage exactly as he hoped he would. He’s running through what would have been his audition routine, the vaguely familiar orchestral arrangement from A Chorus Line playing on his iPhone speaker. Charlie hangs back and watches for a moment, in awe of Zay’s obvious skill as always.

Charlie: Looks pretty good.

Zay is surprised by his presence, both because he didn’t realize he was there and because he’s suddenly deeming him worth talking to again. He rushes to turn off his speaker, taking a second to catch his breath. Then he forfeits the stage, saying that he’ll get out of his way if he needs to use it. Charlie rushes to stop him, asking if he’ll give him just half a second to talk.

Zay looks wary, but he doesn’t leave. He crosses his arms, waiting for Charlie to say his piece.

Charlie: I’m sorry I’ve been acting so distant. Ghosting you, and stuff. I don’t have an excuse. I’ve just been… it’s been weird.

Zay: Bit of an understatement.

Charlie: I haven’t exactly felt like myself much, lately. [ a beat, then he laughs ] Honestly, it’s more like I don’t even know what “myself” actually is. Kind of wondering if maybe I ever did.

[ It’s really hard not to empathize with him. Zay is clearly softening. ]

Charlie: Anyway, it’s not a good reason to treat you the way I did. I can’t explain why I did what I did, but I’m genuinely sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings. And regardless of what’s going on with me, I don’t want to lose you. I mean, someone has to be able to keep up with me around here.

Zay can’t help but chuckle, earning a hopeful smile from Charlie. But the deal isn’t closed yet.

Charlie, sincerely: I understand if you can’t forgive me. I just wanted you to know.

There’s a moment of silence. Charlie may as well be holding his breath. Then, Zay sighs.

Zay: I don’t know what your so-called God has you used to, but I wouldn’t call what you did unforgivable. Or maybe I’m just a gracious deity.

Jokes aside, he’s accepting the apology. Charlie is clearly relieved, laughing in spite of himself and nodding. Zay mirrors his smile, before prodding further on what he mentioned earlier.

Zay: What did you mean by that? Not feeling like yourself?

Charlie: I don’t know. It’s like… do you remember during acoustic week, we talked about your lack of friends?

Zay: Well, I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but yes.

Charlie: It’s… I guess it’s kind of like that. What I talked about, that feeling where you feel like you’re outside yourself. Only… way worse. Like now I’m out there, and I don’t even recognize the person I’m looking at. It doesn’t feel like me anymore. Or maybe it never really was.

Zay can tell that Charlie is seriously struggling with this. Charlie goes on to explain that he was scared that things were changing, but now he doesn’t even know if that’s the case anymore. He isn’t sure if things are changing, or if he’s just becoming aware of how things already are. He can’t figure out which is worse.

Vague cryptic statements aside, Zay states that he’s there to help if he thinks he needs it. Charlie thinks on it, before agreeing that just doing something fun to get his mind off everything might be exactly what he needs.

Charlie: And, well, you’ve always been the expert on that front.

Zay: This we know. I’ll see what I can do.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley catches Isadora in the hall, asking if she’s seen Lucas. After she suggests checking the usual places, Riley follows up by asking whether or not Isadora is planning on auditioning for the summer program. Her derisive laugh is enough of a response.

Isadora: Are you kidding me? I’m not trying to insert myself into that bloodbath. Farkle, Maya, and Zay can take it, I’m not aiming to scrap in the last two weeks of school.

A valid analysis of the situation. Even still, Riley makes her focus on her as she states that she truly believes Isadora is good enough to earn herself a spot on her own merit. Then she flutters off, Isadora unable to hold back the ghost of a smile at the touching sentiment.

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

Maya and Farkle are in the same practice room where they met for tutoring in 1.03, running through some scales together with the latter on piano. They’re interrupted when KATY HART shows up, nervously poking her head in and clearly not sure if she’s in the right place. Maya eagerly leaps forward to greet her, hugging her and guiding her into the space.

Farkle is surprised, Maya quickly catching them both up to speed. She explains that her mother had never seen the inside of the school before, so she was able to work something out with Jack so that she could come by for lunch and stick around to see her audition. Katy expresses awe over how state-of-the-art the facilities are, Maya walking her through everything in their current room. Farkle watches them, obviously touched by their tight-knit relationship.

As Maya goes into further detail about what their practicing for and the summer program, Katy grows anxious again. She’s uncertain about the financial aspect of it. Farkle jumps in, helpfully stating that the summer program is all-expenses paid. That’s partially why their audition process is so thorough – they want to make sure only the most deserving and talented students are mixing and mingling at this shindig.

Good news, for the Harts at least. Katy brightens again, eagerly requesting to hear a little bit of what they’ve been working on. Maya claims that she’ll get to see the full audition in just a bit, but she pleads for a sneak preview. Farkle raises his eyebrows, wiggling his fingers over the keys to show he’s ready.

Maya relents, gesturing her mother towards the chairs to settle in and listen. Then she exchanges a look with Farkle, nodding to count each other in. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Then, as Farkle hits the first chord…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Listen” as performed by Glee Cast  || Performed by Maya Hart

Maya kicks off this brassy display of her vocal talent, true evidence to how hard she’s worked all year. “The Wizard and I” was impressive, but this is a whole new level of ambition. It’s raw with emotion, even more so given the fact that her mother is there to witness. She smiles at her as she sings, obviously one of her greatest sources of inspiration.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

As the performance continues, it shifts to Maya center stage performing for Angela, Shawn, Jack, and Eric. A large crop of her classmates are there to cheer her on as well – Farkle, Zay, Charlie, Riley, Isadora, Darby, Sarah, etc. How nice it is, seeing the divas show up to support one another rather than tear each other down…

As she finishes, her classmates burst into resounding applause. Angela, grinning, thanks her. Katy wipes a couple of tears. Maya can’t stop smiling, nodding gratefully with the spotlight shining all around her.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Lucas and Isadora are at lunch, the latter rattling off what she thinks her summer plans are going to be with this short film idea that came to her during first period. She’s already got storyboards going in a notebook.

Lucas isn’t listening. He’s distracted, watching the other goobs in his techie crew throw food at each other and crack up and live their generally silly existences. Isadora realizes he’s a million miles away and snaps him out of it, asking him if he heard a word she said.

Lucas: Please. Of course I did.

Isadora: Right. So what was I thinking was going to be the climactic plot twist that makes the entire short and dare I say rivals Alfred Hitchcock?

Lucas: You know I don’t understand that reference.

Isadora, bluntly: You really should. Well?

Lucas: … okay. Okay! I wasn’t listening. You caught me, congratulations. You’re Sherlock of the month.

Isadora makes an offhand comment about how she doesn’t see why she bothers to open her mouth, but Lucas is already zoning out again. It’s clear that the decision of McCullough is all he can think about, so he ventures the topic – albeit vaguely – with his most trusted source.

Lucas: Can I ask you a question?

Isadora: Was that not just a question?

Lucas, deadpan: You’re fucking hilarious, seriously.

Isadora: [ with a smirk ] I know. Anyway, go on.

Lucas finds a way of twisting the decision to leave into a thinly veiled alternative scenario, almost like… a scientific hypothetical. Something she would inherently understand.

Isadora: You realize that most often supposed “hypotheticals” are in fact very real situations that one is simply posing as a hypothetical –

He waves her off, going with the ruse anyway. He lays it all down before asking for her advice as to how she would proceed to make the most effective choice. She plainly states that she would make a list of pros and cons to each outcome. From there, it’s far simpler to deduce the best method moving forward.

Lucas absorbs this, nodding along and thanking her. Then she continues on with her film sketch, but he’s already checked out again. Already mentally crafting his list…

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Sarah and Darby are in the dressing room with Chai, hanging out before class resumes. As Darby touches up her makeup, the three of them discuss whether or not they’re auditioning. Sarah complains it’s not really worth trying either way, and Chai concurs. But she blithely states she wasn’t planning on auditioning anyway. In fact, she won’t be returning next year, either.

Darby: [ whipping around and smearing mascara on her cheek ] Oh my God, WHY?

Chai: Relax, Darbs. It’s not goodbye forever. I was able to work out a study abroad sort of situation with Principal Hunter given that I’ll be spending the year in London.

Sarah: London? Where the hell did that come from?

Chai: Well, papa’s still attempting to win over me and mom after getting caught with his pants down with the secretary in our parlor –

Darby, sadly: It’s always the parlor… I’m so glad we don’t have one.

Chai: So he’s paying for me to spend the year across the pond. And it’s like what, am I gonna say no? I can hate his guts and spend his money, thank you very much. I’ll be studying the dramatic arts in the birthplace of Shakespeare, Andrew Lloyd Webber, wandering the West End…

Certainly a not-too-shabby alternative to AAA for a year, that’s for sure. Their conversation is interrupted as Riley enters to drop her things, Darby cheerfully posing the same question to her. Despite her former hesitation, Riley admits that she’s been considering it more and more. Sarah scoffs, asking her if she thinks she stands a chance against the divas. Riley shrugs and states that even if she doesn’t, that’s not a good enough reason to sit it out entirely.  

Chai applauds her confidence, but manages to underhandedly point out that it will give her yet another opportunity to publicly fumble like she did all the time at the start of the year. Sarah laughs along and Darby can’t help but giggle, although her expression is more apologetic.

Riley takes the hit, wishing all of them well with their own endeavors and keeping her chin up before heading out to the auditorium. Chai watches her go, but the expression on her face isn’t resentment. In some ways, it seems closer to envy.

Darby: Hm. Maybe I’ll audition, too.

Sarah: Yeah, uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.

INT. AAA - TEACHER’S LOUNGE - DAY

Jack manages to catch Angela in the teacher’s lounge, brewing a thermos of coffee before she’s due back in the auditorium. He requests a moment to chat with her if she can spare it, which she happily does. The two of them settle in at a round table.

Jack poses the Wyatt problem, giving as much context as possible before asking Angela what she would do in his shoes. He notes the perspective he’s already gotten from Shawn. Angela grants that she isn’t surprised at all that he had that response, but is reluctant to provide her own.

Angela: I don’t know if you want to ask me. I can hardly make my own choices.

Jack: I just want to know your thoughts. Honestly.

Angela hesitates. She explains that she knows what Wyatt did was irrevocably wrong, from the despicable words to Isadora all the way through to the involvement with the confessions page and his targeted derision towards Lucas. It’s bullying in all its varied forms, and it shouldn’t be tolerated. Even still… she expresses hesitation at ousting him so harshly and hastily.

When Jack prods further, Angela points out that Wyatt is still one of her students. He’s making dozens of poor choices, she can concede that, and he deserves to be punished. But she’s also seen him in his brighter moments, instances of participation and camaraderie and learning. That exists in him just as much as the nastiness. As Jack has said himself, it’s never simply black and white, especially with adolescents who have so much growing to do.

For Angela, it just seems a little cruel to kick him out with so little time left in the school year. But she’s a softie, she claims, so what does she know? Maybe that’s not the best advice. Especially if he intends to leave an impression to deter others from exhibiting the same behavior. Jack thanks her regardless, insisting that her feedback was helpful.

Jack, softly: If you do decide to leave us this year as well, you will be sorely missed. I can promise you that.

Ouchie. Angela nods, suddenly a little more somber than before as Jack leaves her to it.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Charlie is out with Zay, the two of them walking side by side as they make their way through the streets while keeping up a conversation. Zay refuses to tell him where they’re headed. Charlie is nervous, but also clearly excited. Invigorated with that infectious energy he gets from being around Zay Babineaux.

Zay declares they’ve made it, turning the corner. Curious, Charlie jogs to keep up.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DANCE LOT - DAY

Zay has dragged them to a back alley park, the empty lot transforming into a break dance spot in the after school hours. A group of a couple dozen or so students is assembled, both older and younger than them. It’s sort of an impromptu crew, coming here after school to jam and challenge each other and just groove together. Most of them are also quite similar to Zay in displaying confidence in their unique sense of style – and come off pretty distinctly queer.

Charlie is more than intimated. He states he can’t do this before whipping around and trying to leave, but Zay grabs his shoulders and pulls him back. He braces him, going on to explain that as long as they’ve been friends – hell, even just classmates – Charlie has always seemed most centered when he’s dancing. These people, they’re the exact same, in fact they’re the experts at using it for self-expression. Zay is positive Charlie has never experienced dancing with freedom quite like this.

There’s a moment where it seems like maybe he’s being convinced… but no. He’s still scared. He tries to run again but is thwarted when one of the older, more respected members of the crew greets Zay and calls them over. Nowhere to hide, Charlie sheepishly follows Zay as he bounces over to greet his acquaintance.

Zay eagerly introduces Charlie, nudging him into standing straighter and not shying away from the moment. The assembled dancers sort of swarm and welcome him warmly, asking him what kind of dancing he’s into and if he thinks he can keep up. After a little bit of banter, let the dancing jam session begin!

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Step Up” as performed by Samantha Jade  || Instrumental

Yes, it’s the title track from Step Up. Yes, this entire sequence sort of feels like it’s ripped straight out of a Step Up movie. But that’s all part of the fun, and watching the teenagers all groove together and encourage each other is engaging to watch. The dancing is fresh, enthusiastic, clearly important to every single one of the kids assembled there.

Charlie is no exception. It takes a little while him to loosen up, the other dancers showing him new moves or helping him get comfortable. But true to Zay’s word, once he relaxes it’s like he transforms – he’s a completely different person. In his element, grounded, alive.

When the bridge hits (“And when the symphony plays, I feel my feet / Lifting from underneath”), focus zeroes in on just Zay and Charlie. In an instant they’re pulled together, and suddenly they’re dancing more with one another than we’ve seen thus far. Sure, they’ve done duets before, but never have they experimented with a dance that really includes the other.

But it’s good. Really good. And it seems pretty natural for the both of them to work out. As the bridge descends back into the chorus, they blend back with the rest of the crew and end out the jam session. Afterwards, the crew applauds, pulling Charlie into the group and giving him pats on the back. A new source of family, maybe…

His smile is impressively bright. Zay mirrors it. It’s impossible not to.

INT. AAA - SHAWN’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Angela and Shawn are at his apartment, having just finished up watching a movie. Well, sort of watching a movie, sort of on the road to Netflix and chilling.

After breaking a kiss, Angela tentatively broaches the topic of what will happen for the two of them if she decides to go on tour. Shawn bristles a bit, claiming that she’s decided then. She disputes this, stating that she’s far from having decided anything in an attempt to keep the situation from imploding. But Shawn has already pulled away, getting to his feet and busying himself by turning off the TV and hitting the lights.

Angela: Shawn, would you listen to me? I haven’t made a choice. I’m just… I’m trying to figure out my plan.

Shawn: You can’t make plans until after you’ve made the decision! [ off her expression ] You’re avoiding it because you don’t want to choose. You want there to be an easy out, but there’s not. You have to decide.

After a little more back and forth, Shawn points out that this is starting to feel eerily like the conversations they had right before the last time things ended badly between them. Angela frowns, stating that it’s different this time. They’re different.

But Shawn has already been emotionally spooked. He asks if he can be alone for a bit, retreating to the bedroom and leaving her alone to stew in it. Angela groans, flopping back on the couch and covering her face.

Weird, how not making a decision can almost make things worse…

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - NIGHT

Charlie and Zay are getting a late dinner at Chubbie’s, a credit in part to Charlie’s growth considering plenty of people can see them there who know them. But they’re friends, after all, so what does he have to hide? Just dancing pals.

He thanks Zay for taking him to the lot, stating that while he’s not entirely upright again, he does feel better. Zay is happy to have helped. When the two of them reach for the plate of fries at the same time, there’s a moment where their hands brush together and that tension returns between them again. Zay glances at Charlie, who is staring at their hands.

Then, Charlie proceeds for the fry as normal. Not commenting on the moment, but not immediately shying away from it either.

As he pops the fry into his mouth, he asks Zay what his plan for the summer program is. The number he was working on in the auditorium seemed pretty legit. Zay shrugs it off, claiming he’s not doing the audition. Charlie nearly chokes on his fries.

Zay: Jesus, man. [ sliding his water across the table in case he needs it ] If you survived the scary dancing pit, don’t let a stray potato take you out.

Charlie: What do you mean you’re not auditioning?

Zay: It’s no biggie. My family has this whole summer plan already, and I don’t want to mess with it. Not to mention the Farkle and Maya of it all, who knows what they might do if someone presents even a shred of competition –

Charlie, incredulously: I can’t believe I’m hearing this right now. You need to audition. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you’re too good to pass it up.

Zay: Um, could say the same to you.

Charlie: Yeah, thanks, but I’ve got enough going on internally without adding a stressful audition into the mix. Think you can admit to that.

Zay: Yes, you certainly are a bit of a basketcase at the moment…

Case in point, Zay needs to do this. Charlie won’t hear anything else, and he’s sure his family will understand. He at least needs to try. Zay contemplates this – the notion of actually giving it a shot as well as Charlie getting fired up on his behalf – before eating another fry.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Farkle is gearing up for his audition, doing vocal warm-ups and mouth stretches in the mirror. Yogi and Dave are also present, shooting the breeze and poking fun at Farkle’s pre-show rituals. Dave shares that he heard Riley might be auditioning too, which freaks out Farkle. He wasn’t expecting more than the three of them to audition, and suddenly the calm of this whole situation feels precarious.

Maya pokes her head in, checking for Farkle and telling him they’re ready. Yogi and Dave tell him to break a leg, but he ignores them as he marches out of the dressing room.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Farkle and Maya make their way into the wings, the spotlight gleaming on stage and waiting for him. He stands apprehensively in the shadow of the curtains, suddenly prickling with stage fright he’s never really experienced before.

Maya gives him a bracing pat on the shoulder, pulling him out of his own head. She jostles him a bit, giving him a smirk and assuring him that he’s got this.

Wow, how nice it is to have friends instead of adversaries. Farkle nods, exhaling through his lips and regaining his performance mojo.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Not the Boy Next Door” as performed by Glee Cast  || Performed by Farkle Minkus

The instrumental precedes him, setting us up for a jaunty, energetic solo as Farkle marches his way onto the stage. It’s an enthusiastic and skillful performance, delivering all of the star power and talent that he’s been serving since “Man About Town” but leaner, looser, more an expression of heart rather than a strangled declaration of perfectionism.

More than anything, it’s clear he’s having fun, which can’t be said for every performance he’s given over the course of the year. He totally loses himself in the number, spurred on by the encouraging cheers from his classmates who came out to see him – notably Maya and Riley, amongst scattered other performers.

He’s out of breath when he belts out the final note, but boy, did he make an impression. Angela thanks him proudly, the rest of the judges smiling as well.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas is alone in the booth, in his usual chair. He’s got his pros and cons list in a small notebook, tapping his pen against it as he contemplates it. Presently, there’s a couple more cons than pros.

He raises his gaze to look at the booth around him. Much like the moment that gripped Angela in the black box, Lucas becomes acutely aware of the fact that he may never be back in this space after the school year is done. It’s oddly surreal. His pen starts tapping faster out of instinct.

He’s broken out of his fugue when Riley pops in, knocking lightly before stepping inside.

Riley: I hope I’m not intruding.

Lucas: No, uh, no. It’s fine. You’re fine. What’s up?

Riley can tell he’s not quite himself, but she chooses to brush past it for now. She’s a bit nervous herself, given what she’s there to talk to him about. After a bit of beating around the bush – a pointed eyebrow raises from Lucas to make it evident he knows she’s beating around the bush – Riley works up the courage to ask him to be her date to the Jacobs gala.

Before he can respond, she launches into a frantic ramble explaining exactly what it is and what he’d be expected to do. Lucas does his best to absorb her words at warp speed, obviously stunned she considered to ask him at all.

Riley: [ following her breathless explanation ] Essentially, it’s just a fanciful folly for the arts, but apparently I’m good enough to represent. And I’m supposed to bring a plus one, and I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I just keep… I figured it might be nice to have a technician there as well. I couldn’t think of another person better suited for the job.

Lucas: … wow.

Lucas, still slow from the shock, admits that he’s flattered. And he concurs that her reasoning makes sense, bringing a technician along and all that. Riley nods along, chewing her lip and twisting her fingers together.

Lucas: But uh… no.

Riley: No. [ blinking ] No?

Ouch. Lucas presses his lips together, managing a shake of his head. Suddenly, the booth feels a million times more claustrophobic. As Riley tries to digest this turn of events, Lucas scrambles to provide an explanation of his own.

Lucas: Again, I really appreciate you considering me. But it seems like a pretty important thing for the school, or whatever, and a whole glamorous to-do. I just think that there’s a lot riding on you, here, and you should present yourself accordingly. Pick someone more… fitting to the role.

Riley: [ timidly ] What if I think you fit the role?

Well, hard to argue with that. Yet somehow, Lucas finds a way, still declining the invitation although with less certainty the second time around.

Riley is stung, stumbling out a few assurances of “cool” and “sure.” Lucas is apologetic, seemingly genuinely so, but at present Riley just needs to escape. She makes an excuse and darts out of there, Lucas watching her go. There’s a moment where it looks like he might go after her, but it passes without action.

Instead, Lucas sighs and pulls his notebook back onto his lap. He stares at his lists, grabbing his pen and adding Riley to the bottom of it. It’s in the middle of the page, not clear at all which column she falls under.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

As Donna prepares for dinner and Omar chats with her from the table with his work, Zay barrels into the room and declares that he has something to tell them. He doesn’t give them the chance to react as he claims he wants to audition for the Kossal summer program, rattling off what it is and why he wants to do it. He states that he wants to go on the summer trip and this may not even work out, but the chance feels too important to ignore and really important to him.

When he finishes, he’s out of breath. He stares at his parents, wide-eyed, waiting for their reaction. Unsurprisingly they are more than supportive, telling him to go for it and show everyone at that school why he is the best they’ve got. The rest, they’ll figure out later. Zay exhales in relief and hugs his mom, earning a laugh from her.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay retreats to his bedroom, obviously in far better spirits than earlier in the week. He crafts a message to Charlie, before deciding that’s not enough. He pulls up his contact, dialing his number instead.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie sees Zay light up his phone, grabbing it and escaping out to his balcony. He answers on the fourth ring, not keeping him hanging.

Zay tells him what his parents said, and that he’s going to audition. Charlie congratulates him, claiming that he knew it would all work out.

Zay: How is it when I always think I’ve got the one-up on you, you repay the favor before I even realize it?

Charlie, charmed: Well, I have to be the expert at something in this relationship.

Zay hangs on his acknowledgement of their friendship as a “relationship,” before pushing past it. He repeats the sentiment that his parents said about proving that he is the best AAA has, and Charlie seconds it without hesitation.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Music and the Mirror” as performed by A Chorus Line Original Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Starting from the opening piano tinkles, focus is solely with Zay on the stage. As much an honorary diva as he is, he’s more so a team player than anything else, so this ownership of center stage feels long overdue.

And boy, is it worth the wait. Zay absolutely destroys the classic triple-threat number, singing the hell out of it and then proceeding to dance the hell out of it. It’s four minutes dedicated to giving the star our undisputed attention, and it feels more earned than words can describe.

As the dance unfolds in the second half, focus cuts to some of the friends who have come to see him audition. Nearly the entire class is there considering how popular he is, all in awe of his dancing ability as they should be. Charlie looks prouder than ever. Riley is basically jumping out of her seat from excitement. That’s her first friend!

The judges are deeply impressed, and seemingly grateful at their current three auditionees there’s not actually a decision to make. Farkle seems less relieved, starting to get a little bit antsy as they applaud Zay and he gives a confident bow.

INT. LAW OFFICE - DAY

Riley visits her mother at work, distinctly out of place in the high intensity and strait-laced setting of the law office with her thrift store tee and flare jeans and propensity for knocking things over. It’s a relief when TOPANGA LAWRENCE emerges from her office and happily gestures her in, freeing her from the scrutinizing gaze of her colleagues at the front.

INT. TOPANGA’S OFFICE - DAY

Topanga and Riley catch up as they settle in, Riley primly sitting in the large leather chair opposite her mother’s desk. When prompted on how school is going, Riley offhandedly explains all of the stuff going on at school with things winding down to summer. When Topanga gets wind of the summer program, she comments what a wonderful opportunity that sounds like and questions whether Riley is going to audition.

Riley admits that she was thinking about it, but has sort of decided she’s not going to. Topanga totally turns the usual argument on its head, wondering why Riley would ever hesitate when she’s so gifted but more so curious as to why she’d neglect such a great opportunity when they’re certainly forking over a chunk of change for her to attend the school in the first place. A fair point, but not the most empathetic approach.

It’s encouragement in its most aggravating form. Rather than motivating Riley it almost completely turns her off to the whole thing. Although she states she’ll continue to consider it, her expression makes that statement difficult to buy. Tough day for Miss Matthews…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Class is assembled before first bell, discussing all the auditionees so far and how nothing has been much of a surprise. Wyatt is cleverly keeping his mouth shut giving he’s on probation, but somehow his classmates manage to pull some commentary out of him.

When he says something harsh towards Zay’s performance Charlie starts to refute but Lucas beats him to it, firing back with a dig at Wyatt that makes most of the assorted group chuckle but also wince. Pissed at being ridiculed by him once again, Wyatt serves up a harsh reality check of his own.

Wyatt: At least we know if there was a competition for which one of them to get rid of, there’d be a unanimous decision across the board.

The message is clear enough. Isadora jumps in and tells Wyatt to fuck off, but Lucas is less reactive. In fact, he’s totally blithe when he says something offhand in response, alluding to the fact that Wyatt might very well get his wish.

He gets up, retreating to the booth and leaving an uncomfortable and uncertain quiet in his place. The situation feels serious, but none of them have any clue why…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Angela is still grappling with her own indecision, alone in her classroom. Only this time, Shawn isn’t there with coffee and a warm gesture to rescue her.

She checks her phone, revealing a couple of messages sent to him that have gone unanswered. Frustrated, running out of time, and as uncertain as ever, Angela shuts off her phone and jumps to her feet. Unable to sit still any longer.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Should I Stay Or Should I Go?” as performed by Jools Holland & Kylie Minogue || Performed by Angela Moore

Launching into this anthem for indecision, Angela dances around her classroom as she lets out her aggravation. It’s refreshing to get another track with our favorite performance coach showing off why she’s been offered a touring position in the first place. The vocals are top notch, but the emotion behind them is what really sells the rendition.

As she continues to sing, she makes her way out into the halls…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

In the following montage, Angela’s singing underscores both she and Lucas going through their day as they continue to balance their decisions. Whereas Angela is more about chewing up the scenery and expressing reluctance to leave, Lucas is observing the things about the school he enjoys (his fellow technicians, the booth, the occasional moments where the performers are entertaining) along with all the things he hates (the drama, the stupidity, the incessant singing). With every beat, he makes a little note in his list when no one is paying attention.

Angela finishes off the montage at center stage, dipping her head back and absorbing the spotlight. Exasperated, but evidently no more at home than when she’s performing. It does truly feel like an impossible decision.

Then, she closes up for the night, clicking off all the lights and shrouding the place in darkness.

EXT. OUTDOOR HIDEOUT - DAY

The montage concludes for Lucas somewhere just out of the city, more wilderness than we’ve seen yet. He’s seated on the hood of Dylan’s jeep which is parked in the clearing just beyond the trees, sort of a natural hideaway that the three of frequent somewhat often. Asher and Dylan focus on setting up something further into the space, leaving Lucas alone.

He’s got his list again, distracted by it rather than the task at hand. Asher jogs over with Dylan on his heels, the two of them questioning why he’s been out of it this week and why he’s waiting up. Dylan holds up a bottle rocket impatiently.

Dylan: Come on. We know you like to have first light.

Idiotic antics aside, Asher observes Lucas for a moment before wondering if he knows that if something major were going on, he could talk to them about it.

Asher: Whatever’s going on, you know you could talk to us about it, right? [ off Dylan’s nod of agreement ] I mean, no guarantee that we’d have good advice –

Dylan: [ with a snort ] Definitely not.

Asher: But we’d listen. We got your back. You know?

Lucas examines the two of them – his truest lieutenants – and just takes them in for a long moment. It’s difficult to imagine what his day-to-day would be like without them in it.

He assures them he’s aware, then tells them not to worry about it. He directs them to go finish setting up the rocket, to which Dylan cheers and sprints back over. After they’ve gone far enough away, Lucas takes a moment to add their names on the pros side of the list as a totally separate entity from the rest of the techies.

With that, he officially comes out to an even tally – no clear decision. All that remains in flux is Riley, now having been underlined and with a couple of question marks. This indecision’s killing me…

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack stops by Eric’s office, surprising him given they rarely have cordial friendly chats with one another. He attempts to play it casual at first, commenting on how lovely the auditions have been so far. Since only three have auditioned, guess their job is pretty simple, huh?

Eric: Yeah, for sure. And why are you here again?

Jack: What? I can’t come by to have a chat with my best counselor?

Eric: I’m your only counselor.

Jack: And?

Eric gives him a look, breaking his facade. Jack relents, easing further into the room to settle into the chair opposite his desk. He gets into his qualm with Wyatt once again, especially now that Shawn and Angela have given him opposing advice.

He still feels stuck. He wants to make the best choice as an administrator, but he also knows that teenagers are stupid. They’re ignorant. They make mistakes. He’s seen that shift firsthand all year long, in just about every single one of their students. But he doesn’t want this behavior to continue either…

Eric empathizes, giving Jack what he’s been wanting to hear this entire time which is simply that there isn’t a right or easy decision. He just has to go with his gut. Considering he’s an excellent educator, Eric has little doubt that he will make the best one.

Jack appreciates the sentiment, but still isn’t convinced. He asks Eric what he would do in his position, seeking counsel from him seeing as that’s presumably his job title and all that.

After a beat of contemplation, Eric states that he thinks he would ask Wyatt to leave. Not because he’s irredeemable, but because they have to think about what is best for the collective. Regardless of how they feel about individual students, what always matters most is how all of them can best proceed. Isn’t that true?

Jack takes this to heart, genuinely grateful for the help. Eric accepts his gratitude, offering him an encouraging smile.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Lucas is seated on the edge of the stage, one leg dangling off the side as he painstakingly wraps microphone cables. Riley makes her way in from the audience entrance, hoping to find Isadora and stumbling into him instead. Their staging mirrors their face off at the end of 1.03, now with Riley standing in the aisles and looking up at him on the stage.

They’re a bit awkward with one another as she asks whether he’s seen Isadora, given how recent his rejection of her was. He claims he doesn’t know, curiously wondering why she’s trying to find her. Riley expresses that she wanted to ask her about the audition, letting it slip that she has almost effectively decided she’s not going to do it.

Lucas is shocked, coming off more miffed than he intends to. He questions if she’s serious, not believing there’s a world in which she’s not auditioning. Riley stammers into an explanation, Lucas remaining unimpressed as she lists all the factors that have stacked against her in the past week. He claims none of that matters.

Lucas: This is just you stepping back into the shadows because suddenly overwhelming factors have come into play. You’re really just going to go back to how things were? As if you’ve learned nothing?

Riley: [ scoffing ] Are you really about to give me this lecture right now?

[ Lucas rolls his eyes, diverting his attention back to his cables. But Riley isn’t finished, storming closer to the stage. ]

Riley: So what, you just want me to rock the boat for the sake of rocking the boat? You want me to just do whatever my mother says I should?

Lucas: This isn’t about your mom. And this isn’t about rebellion either. This is about you, and the fact that you are too damn talented to be stepping out of the spotlight just because other people want it. Just because someone else wants what you have doesn’t mean you have to give it up.

Choice words, and not a bad point. Riley absorbs this, crossing her arms and looking at her feet. Lucas gazes at her for a long moment, twisting the microphone cable in his fingers.

Lucas, calmer: Earlier this year, someone told me that if something is important to you then you go out and do it. No matter what anyone else tells you to do or how to be. You stand up for yourself.

Lucas gets to his feet, placing the microphone in the box with the rest and snapping the lid shut. He hops off the lip of the stage, passing her to head back towards the technician’s booth. But he hesitates once he’s passed her.

Lucas: Are you really going to go back to hiding in the chorus line?

He doesn’t give her the chance to respond, marching towards the back of the auditorium. Riley looks over her shoulder and watches him go, obviously torn up all over again. For what it’s worth, what she wants suddenly seems less muddled than before…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Thus, march onward Riley does. She approaches the audition list, hesitating before officially adding a fourth name to the roster. All the sudden, there’s actual stakes to this game. As she writes her name, a voiceover of her introducing herself before her audition pre-laps…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Riley is alone center stage, spotlight shining on her. She’s squinting to attempt and see Eric, Angela, any of them – but it’s like they’re not there at all. Basically the entire class has showed up in the seats, wanting to see how a non-diva contender plans to throw down with such a bold move against the status quo.

Angela grants Riley permission to begin whenever she’s ready. Her fingers are shaking as she holds the microphone stand. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and grounding herself.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “She Used to Be Mine” as performed by Sara Bareilles || Performed by Riley Matthews

If there’s a pivotal example of how much a performer can blossom in the span of a year, then this performance would be it. Although she starts out timid, Riley delivers an impassioned and powerful rendition of the Broadway belter, obviously channeling all of her emotion and passion into it like never before. It’s stunning, breathtaking, the kind of game-changer that throws this entire competition into a toss-up.

It’s a testament to how far she’s come that nearly the entire class seems impressed. They’re supportive too, smiling and nodding as she decimates the number. Isadora is smug on her behalf, glancing to the other techies proudly. Even Farkle is playing nice, although he’s starting to get a little twitchy…

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

As she rounds out the number, focus draws to Lucas in the booth. He’s totally captivated, although not that surprised – he’s the one who told her she had it in her, after all.

Still, there’s a contemplative edge to his expression. Trying to figure her out, wondering if he could actually walk away from her…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Inspired by Riley’s bold move, suddenly the audition list is swimming in the names of other hopeful auditionees. Farkle is staring at it, trying extremely hard to keep his cool and not freak out over the increasing loss of control.

Maya joins him, poking her chin over his shoulder and eyeing it as well before stating that he can’t keep watching it like this. Yet the two of them stare transfixed for a second longer, Maya physically having to turn them both away from it to break the trance.

She gives a pep talk, stating that they both gave kickass performances and all there is left to do is let the deliberation speak for itself. When Farkle doesn’t seem convinced, she tells him she’s getting him away from it. They’re getting out of there – they’re playing hooky. Now there’s a way to get the attention of a goody-two-shoes academic.

Farkle: Um? I’ve never missed a day of class in my sixteen years.

Maya: Aw, so honored to be your first time! Let’s go.

She grabs his hand, yanking him down the hall.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Launching into their day of freedom, Maya and Farkle are meandering their way about town. They’re window shopping in the fashion district, sipping fancy coffee drinks and trying to find their zen – Farkle’s is pointedly marked decaf.

As they chat, they somehow gets on the subject of the local theater scene and the hangouts for up and coming performers. Farkle claims that his parents have membership at this elite club lounge where a lot of Broadway performers congregate and rehearse.

Maya: What’s it called?

Farkle: Emerald City, I think.

Maya: [ stopping cold ] WHAT?

Farkle: I know, feels a little on the nose, but –

Maya grabs him by the shirt collar, yanking him towards her and causing him to drop his drink. She’s got a frenzied gleam in her eyes.

Farkle: I was drinking that!

Maya: You have access to the Emerald City lounge? Where the future stars of Broadway mix and mingle? Where it’s rumored Carly Rae Jepsen snuck her way in and was able to get her stint as Cinderella? How have you never told me this?

Farkle: Ow, unclaw me, please! [ as she does so ] I don’t know, it never came up. I’ve always wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go alone. And to be fair, we weren’t exactly chummy for me to be sharing these things.

Maya: I know, I’m surprised you weren’t just bragging incessantly about it. And listen, had you mentioned this sooner? We would’ve been friends ages ago.

Farkle gives her a look, Maya nudging him playfully before insisting they have to go. If the only reason he’s never gone is because he didn’t want to go stag, well, that problem is now solved.

She starts to drag him down the street but he gets her to slow down, first thanking her for getting him out of that school and out of his own head. He truly needed it, and he’s grateful for it – and her. Maya grins, shrugging it off like it’s nothing.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “One Short Day” as performed by Wicked Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Maya Hart & Farkle Minkus

As the jaunty and uplifting descent into glamourous kicks off, Maya and Farkle dance their way through the streets together as only two divas in paradise can. It’s endearing and comfortable, such a far cry from “What Is This Feeling?” in 1.03. It also doesn’t paint NYC in such a bad light either. In fact, it’s pretty damn beautiful.

On the beat where Glinda tells Elphaba they’re going to be late for “Wiz-a-mania,” Farkle gets caught up checking his phone. People are posting on their own accounts about how auditions are going, and the competition seems to be getting thicker and thicker. But Maya pulls him out of it, yanking him down the stairwell to the hidden depths of Emerald City.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

As Farkle and Maya enter the depths of the working performers, a montage ensues of the rest of the sophomore class performing their auditions.

INT. EMERALD CITY LOUNGE - DAY

An eclectic, shimmering testament to Broadway and those struggling to work in it, Emerald City is somewhere between a bar lounge and a dressing room. Maya and Farkle watch in awe as working actors and dancers buzz around them, before inevitably pulling them into the dance. Because it’s television, and musical television, and we can do what we want.

After the very necessary and super cute kick line, Maya and Farkle come back together to share their moment on the lyrics “and then just like now we can say…” Farkle states that they’re “two good friends,” before Maya takes his hand and holds their joined fingers up between them. “Two best friends.”

Then the professionals pull them back into the number, rounding out the number with a flourish. What a way to spend a school day!

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - NIGHT

Lucas is back in the booth, although not in his usual chair. A little further into the booth, a panel has popped out of the wall and leaned against the electrical cabinet. And it’s the basic crawl space of an alcove that is revealed behind it where Lucas has built his hideaway, the place he sleeps when he’s avoiding going home. It’s not much, but it’s the coziest space he’s ever known.

This is where he is now, cooped up and regarding his full list. Cons include the horrible competitive environment, all the performers, the constant singing, etc. The pros, however, are strong and difficult to ignore – Isadora at the top and underlined, the techies, Mister Shawn, Principal Hunter (someone has to keep his life interesting), Dylan and Asher…

And yet, the tally comes to an even draw. All save for Riley at the bottom, somehow having become the deciding factor.

The booth door opening scares Lucas out of his melancholy. He scrambles to get up and start frantically attempt to hide everything away, when Isadora appears around the other side of the electrical cabinet. She tells him to relax, he doesn’t have to pack away his whole set-up. Also, she brought dinner. Lucas tries to act indifferent about her discovering his shelter, but she truly isn’t all that impressed.

Isadora: You really thought I didn’t know about all that? It’s not hard to deduce. You hate being at home. You’re always in here, and you’re always here first thing in the morning, which I know isn’t plausible otherwise because you’re not a morning person.

Lucas: Well, when you put it that way. [ a beat, softer ] Forget you’re a genius, sometimes.

Isadora: [ with a shrug ] You’re my best friend. It’s not that hard to figure you out.

He sits back down in his alcove, Isadora settling down across from him. She asks how his “hypothetical” is going. He defensively wonders if she’s figured that all out too, which she admits she has not. But she claims that if it were truly important, she knows he would tell her.

In this case, far from the truth. There’s a reason he’s avoided telling her what’s going on outright – he can’t imagine how she would take the news that he may be leaving for good. He explains that he’s hit a dead end and doesn’t know how to move forward. He’s done the pros and cons like she said, but he’s torn on this last factor that might tip the scales in either direction.

Isadora: First things first, is it an important factor? If it’s extraneous, then you shouldn’t even bother with it.

Lucas: … yes. Yeah, it is. How do I determine where it falls?

Isadora: Well, if this were an actual scientific theory, your next step would be to draft an experiment. Decide what you want your hypothesis to be – which outcome you want it to be, unless we’re talking null hypothesis – and then find a way to test whether or not it’s true. That’s what any good scientist would do. Basic scientific method.

Lucas takes this in, already puzzling over how to accomplish such a thing. Isadora distracts him by tossing food at him, commanding him to eat. He relents, digging in with her.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Angela is typing out an email to the touring company, effectively making her decision. From the looks of it, it seems as though she’s going to decline the offer. She’s interrupted when there’s a knock at her door.

Shawn is on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers and ansty with earnest. Angela starts to question what he’s doing but he cuts her off, stepping in past her and launching into a poem from the book she gave him. The thematics are essentially well-matched to their current situation, and Angela can’t help but giggle in a what are you doing sort of fashion.

When Shawn finishes the recitation, he puts the flowers on the table and takes her arms. He’s breathless with nerves, but clearly wants her to hear him.

Shawn: I’ve changed a lot since the last time we had these conversations. I have, but I sure wasn’t acting like it. I’m sorry about the way I reacted, and I don’t care if you want to pursue this thing. In fact, I’m proud of you, and I want you to, if that’s what you want. And if it means another few years apart, then so be it. We came back to each other once.

Angela doesn’t even know what to say. She doesn’t know how to convey that she was going to decline the offer, or if she even still should with this turn of events. Thankfully, she’s saved by the bell, in this case her cell phone ringing. He steps back and allows her to pick it up.

As she engages with the call, we can tell that the news is shocking. Shawn tries to get something out of her as she listens, desperately trying to get a read on the situation. When she hangs up, she just stares at him for a couple of seconds.

Shawn: Ange, you’re killing me.

Angela manages to stammer out that she’s been offered a role in an off-Broadway show. Then, she’s finally able to grin. She repeats the statement, trying to make herself believe it. It’s not her big break, no, but it’s a start – and it’s here. She doesn’t have to go anywhere. The two of them, her time here, aren’t finished quite yet.

Shawn pulls her into a hug, lifting her and spinning her. When she lands back on her feet, the two of them share a big damn kiss –

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The sophomore class is assembled outside the door to the black box, anxiously waiting for Angela to put up the finalists for Kossal. The performers are trying their best not to throw jabs at each other, while the techies hang back against the wall and watch the near stampede in mild amusement.

Lucas: If any of you decide you’re going to the pit because of this, can I watch?

Riley tells them to ignore him, reminding the core group that whatever happens, they’re going to be happy for one another. They all agree, although it’s hard to tell if that sentiment is going to hold true…

Angela emerges, silence immediately settling over the crowd. You could hear a pin drop. She begs for a moment to escape once she puts it up before they all stampede, then moves to pin the list onto the bulletin board. She dives back into the classroom and slams the door just as the wolves descend, trying to see who got the three coveted spots.

Farkle elbows his way through, making it to the front first and getting a look for himself. From his expression, we can almost imagine the list before we see it.

Zay Babineaux. Maya Hart. Riley Matthews.

No Farkle Minkus. No summer program. No successful path to the top.

Sound grows muted around Farkle as the others get close enough to look for themselves. He can’t bring himself to react. He can’t even breathe.

He’s jostled out of it when Charlie bumps him in the back on accident, en route to giving Zay an enthusiastic hug. Maya and Riley eagerly congratulate one another, turning expectantly towards Farkle. Obviously not certain what to say to him, but hoping he’ll opt to take the gracious approach instead and make it easy on them to enjoy their laurels.

What do they want from him? A congratulations? Farkle doesn’t have it in him to give. He sort of sputters an incoherent statement and backs away, trying to wrap his head around it. How this could have possibly happened.

Zay: Seriously? Are you about to diva meltdown? What happened to being happy for each other?

Farkle, panicked: Yeah, well, that’s easy to say when –

Charlie: It’s okay, dude. There will be other opportunities –

Farkle is beyond that. He’s sliding back into manic, figuring he must have let himself slip up somewhere along the way. Or that this is all some elaborate ruse on their part – like they all knew if they got him off his game, he’d be easier to thwart.

Zay: You think I’d choose to be friends with you just to get some made up advantage over you? Believe me, man, I don’t hate myself that much.

Riley: Farkle, that’s not true –

Maya: Farkle. [ breaking through the haze, over everyone else ] Can’t you just be happy for me?

She holds his gaze, obviously hurt. Hoping he’ll say the right thing. But all he can manage is a non-answer.

Farkle: I – need a second. I need – just leave me alone.

Farkle storms away towards the auditorium, desperate to escape. The others watch him go, a myriad of emotions swirling around them but disappointment being the most unifying one.

Zay: Guess people don’t really change.

Maya looks more wounded than anyone else. She breaks away from the group, marching in the other direction.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is having his final conduct meeting with Wyatt, having made his decision on what his punishment will be. Eric is also present.

The final verdict is somewhere down the middle: Wyatt is being expelled from AAA effective at the start of the new term, but he will be allowed to finish out the remainder of this school year. Wyatt doesn’t have any complaints at this point, resigned. He claims that AAA is a hellscape and totally corrupt. The administration clearly has their favorites, and they have no idea how rotten the place is from the inside out.

Eric, calmly: You seem quite critical of this so-called rotten environment, in spite of how you had an active hand in keeping it alive…

Wyatt chooses not to comment, Jack dismissing him. As he heads out, he warns Jack that getting rid of him isn’t going to get rid of the problems at Adams. For one, he’s not the creator of the AAAC, but more pointedly the page is not the perpetrator of all the mean stuff people say about each other. They do all that themselves. Like he’s been saying, it’s just the messenger. And they’ve just shot it.

Wyatt: So if you really believe you’re making a difference, maybe you try tackling the toxic waste that serves as the very core of this school. But that would require actually being a competent administrator, so…

Eric rises and shoos him out, Jack taking the intended hit anyway. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples as Eric shuts the door behind Wyatt, releasing a sigh and claiming he thinks they made the right choice expelling that kind of bad energy.

When Jack doesn’t seem placated, Eric settles down across from him and comes to his defense. Wyatt is just postulating, and he made a good decision.

Jack nods along, but it’s evident there’s a lingering inkling of doubt…

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

As Wyatt exits the front office, he pulls out his phone. He crafts a message to AAA Confessions, warning them that Jack is on the warpath. The page is probably going to be officially shut down before the end of the school year. What are they planning to do?

The confessions page starts a message back… then doesn’t respond. Wyatt never gets an answer.

INT/EXT. LUCAS’S BEDROOM / LUCAS’S FIRE ESCAPE - DAY

Lucas is flipping through the McCullough pamphlet, but he can’t stomach looking at it for too long. Still feels like too daunting a decision to make.

He climbs out onto his fire escape, settling down and releasing a sigh. He stares out towards the city for a moment, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He starts a message to Riley, but nothing he wants to say comes out right. He finds himself calling her instead.

Lucas: Hey. I know I said… [ a beat ] things have been kind of… [ willing himself to be outright ] Do you still need a plus one?

Let the experiment begin…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

School has emptied out for the day, only a few stragglers left behind. Farkle is back in front of the bulletin board, staring at the three names and unable to believe that he’s not there.

Something about him isn’t quite right. He’s frantic, frenzied in a way that’s beyond just disappointment from a jilted diva. The longer he glares at the list, clenching his jaw and fidgeting in place, the worse the hysteria seems to become.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “It’s All Over” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus (feat. Zay Babineaux, Maya Hart, Riley Matthews, Isadora De La Cruz, Charlie Gardner, and Lucas Friar)

[ Lyrics specific to characters – follow along here! ]

Farkle spits the words “Miss Moore was supposed to love me, I turn my back and find myself out on the line” towards the list, before whipping around –

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And suddenly center on a brightly lit stage. It’s almost glaringly bright, to the point where it would hurt to look at. If you’re not in his immediate line of sight, then you’re shrouded in shadow – which is how the figures standing on the stage look to him until they make themselves known and step into the light to argue with him.

Although the rest of the core group is included in the number, it’s more than clear that they’re not actually there. This isn’t actually Maya, Zay, even Lucas singing in opposition to him – they’re all in his imagination, but it doesn’t make it feel any less real. In regards to who is saying what, well, if you read any set of specific lyrics in this show, let it be this number.

As Farkle grows more and more frantic, the opposition towards him grows more and more pronounced. Although this whole thing started with a dashed dream, the way he’s so emotional over them all “dropping” him through the course of the song or turning him away seems like a greater trigger for him than the missed opportunity. So it’s not actually clear what is causing the meltdown, or if he really knows himself.

All he knows is that the entire core group is telling him it’s all over, and he’s fighting against it with whatever he’s got – back to the teeth-gnashing, scrappy, obsessive starlet who clawed his way to first on stage at the start of the school year.

No, Farkle Minkus is far from going quietly. He’s not going anywhere, and he swears that this isn’t how this is going to end.

Oh, boy…

END OF EPISODE.

#S1 #episodes #111

[transhumanitynet]

The Future Of In-Ear Headphones... Literally

In 2013 news broke that Rich Lee, body modification and music enthusiast, implanted magnets into each tragus to be able to listen to music without external headphones. The technology needed a homemade chunky necklace that “creates a magnetic field causing the implant to vibrate and produce sound”, according to Lee. While mainstream technology isn’t there yet, Apple’s AirPods aren’t far away, and maybe helping to ease the majority into the idea of implanted technology and the benefits it can offer for everyday life.

Apple’s Current Technology

Apple released AirPods in 2016, earphones that are completely wireless and designed to be worn all the time, giving them plenty of comparisons to implants. Apple also made the bold decision to remove the headphone jack from their iPhone 7, disappointing many consumers, but nudging them in the direction of AirPods. AirPods are meant for more than just listening to music, as they can connect to other Apple devices, such as your smartphone, to not only notify you of a text but to read it to you in a quiet voice, helping you to go hands-free. The built-in microphone allows you to communicate with Siri, but it can also detect when a conversation starts and will automatically lower the volume of what you’re listening to. You can also communicate with the AirPods by double tapping one of them. It’s been reported that in 2019, the second generation of AirPods will be released that includes wireless charging, a sleeker design and a portable case for charging on the go, making these even closer to implants, as the list of reasons to remove them keeps getting shorter.

The Portability Factor

One of the biggest reasons wireless and Bluetooth enabled headphones are popular is that they are highly portable and offer ease of use. You can go further from the device they’re paired with, not restrained by the length of a wire, and there’s no need to worry about getting caught on anything. Implanted headphones would also mean you wouldn’t need to worry about them getting wet, so you could listen to music in the shower or while swimming without fear of damaging them. Some reports say that current and future wireless headphones are becoming so small that they’ll be easily lost, which implanted tech resolves. In contrast to some of the smaller earphones, traditional headphones that incorporate modern technology, such as going wireless and using Bluetooth, can offer great sound, noise-canceling, friends can plug into them to listen with you and they tend to have a better battery life due to their larger size.

Bone Conduction Headphones

The technology behind bone conduction headphones stems from hearing aid designs. Bone conduction lets you hear sounds through the vibrations of the bones in your face. The sound bypasses the outer and middle ear, where the eardrum sits and stimulates the inner ear, where a sound is heard. This means bone conduction headphones let you listen to music while being aware of your surroundings. These are great for runners and cyclists who need to be able to hear traffic and people to ensure their safety. Implanted earphones would work on the same principle as bone conduction headphones, transmitting sound via bones rather than air, allowing the ear to be uncovered for surrounding sounds, but the sound quality would need to be improved before masses committed to implants.

What Current Technology Means For Future Headphones

While the AirPods are not implanted, they are one of the closest pieces of current technology due to their design that makes them highly wearable, the idea being that if you have no need to take them out, you may as well have them permanently in. Apps will be developed to streamline and expand the applications of the AirPods, such as permanent listening and recording, enabling them to save a snapshot of conversation to your phone on your demand, something that could transform evidence in law. Your phone could automatically set reminders based on what your earphones hear during conversations, making daily tasks easier. Implanted headphones would give people complete control over the noises they hear, and it’s predicted that they will eradicate the hearing aid market. Imagine going to upgrade your smartphone and the sales assistant implants the headphones that come with them at the end of the sale. Implanted headphones would likely just be the beginning, and more types of implanted tech will be widely accepted and become the norm.

The line between technology and humans is beginning to blur, as the two start to act seamlessly to improve human life. Implanted headphones are a small step in the direction of implanted technology that appeals to the masses.

Guest post by Jackie Richards

*hero image used with permission https://unsplash.com/photos/_icC-RYrAFA

The Future Of In-Ear Headphones… Literally was originally published on transhumanity.net

#future #headphones #technology #crosspost #transhuman #transhumanitynet #transhumanism #transhumanist #thetranshumanity

[freshwater--mermaid]

Ersatz Ch 20: This World Doesn’t Spin

It was a long-standing tradition in Casper High for the students to make all of the Halloween decorations by hand. Personally, Danny thought it was just another money-saving scheme.

He watched students creating banners and posters in the main hall, adorning them with little bats and smiling pumpkins. He frowned at them from his seat next to Tucker and Sam. All three of them were currently in Lancer's office, the balding man looking down on them with a disapproving gaze.

"I just don't see what the big problem is." Sam continued her debate. "It's supposed to be scary; it's Halloween for crying out loud!"

"Ms Manson, I have already made myself clear on this." Lancer said, obviously at the end of his patience. He and Sam had been going back and forth for nearly fifteen minutes, with Tucker occasionally butting in to aid Sam's point. Danny didn't take either side, simply staring off and waiting to be excused back out into the school.

'Probably with detention, if Sam keeps this up.' Danny thought. He didn't get what the big deal was either way.

Lancer held up the poster that the three teens had been working on together. Danny had been doing the words, while Sam and Tucker gleefully drew various ghoulish images. The whole fuss began when Lancer had passed by, inspecting everyone's work, only to stop dead when his eyes landed on their creation.

Needless to say, the school was going to be short on red paint for a while. Most of it marked up the poster, running in blotches and rivers from various zombies and ghosts. There was even a small pumpkin in one corner with blood coming out of its mouth and eyes.

Lancer was not impressed at all, and had immediately called them into his office for a word. The word turned into a debate between him and Sam, who was outraged that their hard work was going to be trashed. Tucker mostly just found the whole situation funny, getting more entertainment out of watching Sam and Lancer duke it out than painting. Danny was mainly tuning everyone out, having no opinion on the subject and just wanting to go about his day.

"This is a clear violation of the rules." Lancer said for the tenth time. "There was to be no graphic violence. I made that very clear this morning."

"It's not graphic violence! It's just a bit of blood. No one's hurting anyone or anything, they're all just standing around!" Sam protested.

"It is a violation nonetheless." Lancer continued. "Given the recent violent events surrounding this school and its students, we will not be having anything overly grotesque adorning these halls."

Lancer glanced Danny's way when he mentioned the violent events. Surely he was thinking back on the Poindexter debacle from just a few months ago. Danny looked away from him and gazed once more back out at the busy hallway.

Lancer sat down in his chair with a heavy sigh. He rubbed briefly at his eyes before looking back up at the trio.

"I want you three to start on a new poster. This time without the needless gore. Ah ah!" Lancer raised a hand to silence Sam. "I'm through arguing this. Now, unless you want to be looking at a week's worth of detention, I suggest you cut your losses and go."

He pointed a finger at the open doorway. Sam stood up, frowning at the vice principal but saying no more as she stomped out, Tucker and Danny following behind.

"This is such bullshit." Sam seethed under her breath.

Tucker and Danny both knew she was more angry about losing an argument than the actual poster. She hated feeling bested, especially by an authority figure.

"Hey, I got an idea." Tucker said, smiling at Sam's angry face. "Why don't we get some fruits from your place and make a jack o' lantern display with them. It'd be cooler than some crummy poster."

Sam's rage diffused instantly as she considered the project idea.

"That actually sounds kinda cool." she said, returning his smile. "Good idea, Tuck."

"Aww," an obnoxious voice interrupted. "Look at the little lovebirds making eyes at each other."

Dash's leering face came into view through a cluster of chatting teens. After Danny unwittingly possessed him, Dash had mostly kept his distance from the trio. His taunt was almost odd after going so many weeks in unbullied bliss.

"Dash, come on," Paulina frowned at him from the edge of the crowd. "Leave them alone. Other people's dating lives aren't any of your business."

"We aren't dating." Sam and Tucker shot back in unison.

Thankfully any further jabs from Dash had been silenced by Paulina, who gave the three a sympathetic look before turning back to her conversation with Star.

"Well, at least she hasn't completely sold out." Sam said lowly, giving the crowd a disdainful look.

"Ah come on, Sam." Danny piped in for the first time. "Lay off, we did kind of blow her off. It's no wonder she got into a new crowd."

Sam sent him a look before turning and leading the way down the hall, intent on putting distance between herself and that particular group.

"Uh, so, my idea?" Tucker spoke up.

"I'll get together the supplies. We can work on it this weekend." Sam replied, her smile coming back as her mind conjured up different display ideas.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

The last thing Danny expected to see when he entered his parents' lab was Vlad standing beside the metal table, sleeves rolled up, with green stains painting his arms nearly up to the elbows. He held small metal tools, which were similarly marked, obviously being used to probe around inside the opened midsection of the old lunch lady.

Danny's eyes bugged out as he took in the sight. Vlad looked over at him as he stood mute at the bottom of the stairs. Maddie and Jack both noticed Vlad's halted movement, and looked toward the doorway as well.

"Hey, honey!" Maddie greeted with a bright smile.

"Come get a look at this, Danny." Jack beckoned to his son. "It's incredible!"

Danny walked forward, coming to stand at the head of the long table. His gaze flickered to the restrained ghost's face. Her wide eyes, staring up at him, a gag strapped around her head to keep her silent, her face pulled tight in fear and pain.

Danny regretted looking at her, and his eyes pulled away from hers, looking toward her torso instead.

Viscera coated the thin sterile drapes laid over her midsection, a square window giving a clear view into the ghost's innards. Dark green masses could be seen inside, one or two occasionally giving a disturbing twitch.

Danny wondered if his organs looked the same way now. If they'd be green and dead-looking and twitching oddly like that. The thought made his throat tight, and Danny fought to turn his mind elsewhere as his father began to speak excitedly.

"They look like actual organs!" he proclaimed, his eyes wide behind his goggles. "It's incredible how well these creatures can imitate the human form. To do so on such an internal level, why, this ghost must be pretty powerful. We sure lucked out in bagging it!"

"What I want to find out is whether or not these organs will maintain form once removed." Maddie commented, leaning slightly over Jack to get a clearer view of the ghost's insides.

"Um, Mr Masters, what are you doing here?" Danny asked, half out of genuine curiosity and half because he really wanted to change the subject.

"I'll be staying on for the next few days, Daniel." Vlad answered with his signature smile.

"Isn't it great, Danny!" Jack proclaimed, gesturing with green-coated gloves. "We're gonna watch the Packers playoff together, just like the old days."

"Yes, very exciting, sweetie." Maddie gave her husband a bored glance before looking across the table at Vlad. "Ready when you are."

She held up a sterilized jar in her hands, its lid removed. Vlad gave her a nod, his expression turning to one of concentration as he carefully lowered the scalpel blade toward the ghost's innards.

Danny turned around and began walking back up the stairs, very much not wanting to watch the three adults remove parts from the old lady. He knew Vlad would show up to talk with him sooner or later about the actual reason for his visit. Until then he would be doing homework and listening to loud music with headphones on.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

As expected, Danny's bedroom door opened over an hour later. Vlad stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"You're getting predictable." Danny said as he removed his headphones, the music still heard faintly as he set them aside. "Every time you show up it's because something big is about to happen. So what is it this time?"

Vlad smiled at the boy, arms folding neatly behind his back as he walked over to the window, speaking along the way.

"Tell me, Daniel, does the local ghost activity in Amity Park increase around this time of the year?"

Raising an eyebrow at the question, Danny moved off his bed to stand, watching Vlad gaze out the window.

"Not really." he said with a shrug. "I mean, before my parents finished the portal we never actually saw a ghost."

"Hmm, of course." Vlad replied, turning to face Danny. "Well, Daniel, it should come as no surprise to you that paranormal activity tends to elevate at this time of year. All Hallows Eve is especially known for being the only time when naturally occurring portals become more common."

Vlad walked away from the window as he continued. "That isn't to say that I expect holes leading to the Ghost Zone to pop up everywhere around the city. But I do suspect that the recent rise in ghosts will increase even further as we get nearer and nearer to this month's end."

"So you wanted to stop by and, what, warn me about this? Check for holes to another dimension floating around the house?" Danny couldn't help but snipe a little at Vlad, his mood gone sour at the news. Of course Halloween would mean more ghosts. Just great.

"Of course I came to warn you, Daniel. I am, as I've stated in the past, your ally." Vlad replied. "You must be wary of your surroundings, Daniel. Or have you forgotten that you live almost directly above an open gate leading straight into the realm of spirits?"

Danny frowned, sitting back down on his bed with a sigh.

"So even more ghosts are going to come flooding through my parents' portal, is that what you're saying? Wonderful." he said.

"Oh it won't be as dramatic as I'm sure you're imagining." Vlad assured. "It will mostly be small spirits showing up more frequently. A few more powerful ghosts will be drawn here, but thankfully the ones you would need to worry about tend to stick to their own territories."

"Well, that's one good thing, I guess." Danny replied, feeling a bit relieved.

It took a moment before Vlad's words caused Danny to pause, looking up at the man.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'territories'?" he asked. "So really strong ghosts have pieces of the Ghost Zone that they claim as their own?"

"Exactly." Vlad answered with a smile. "It is a true mark of a powerful ghost to have a land or realm to call their own. You yourself have one, Daniel."

Danny's face went blank for one moment before his eyebrows shot up.

"You mean the other version of my house?" he said in surprise. "I just thought that was a reaction to the portal itself. You're saying I made that thing?"

"Yes, Daniel. The portal is very powerful in its own right, and it most definitely helped make you as strong as you are, but that floating island would not exist if not for you. It is your own territory, my boy."

"Couldn't you have just spelled this all out for me sooner?" Danny replied. "I'm not the smartest student in my class, you know."

"I didn't want to overwhelm you with too much information. Our last trip to the Ghost Zone together had been about your abilities. All the knowledge you need will come in time, Daniel. You don't need to worry about that."

"Does that mean you have your own territory somewhere in there?" Danny asked after a moment of silent thought.

Vlad nodded in reply.

"Could I go see it? Is it like a ghost version of your giant mansion, just floating out in the middle of nothing?" The mental image made Danny smile.

"I'm afraid it would take some time to reach it from here." Vlad said.

"Oh." Danny replied, wondering what other ghost territories might be nearby. All those doors must lead to different ghost's homes. Danny felt the urge to explore the Ghost Zone further than he had before, and see what he could find.

"Daniel." Vlad's voice took on a tone of warning, as though he could read Danny's intentions. "I must warn you to be very careful about where you tread in the Ghost Zone. As I said, very powerful ghosts hold realms there. You wouldn't want to stumble into one's lair by accident."

"Don't worry, I'm not about to wander inside some spooky looking door." Danny answered with a wave.

"Not doors, Daniel. Those are of little consequence. I'm talking about the massive castles or island forests you may discover. Do not get too close to them while you're alone."

"What castles and forests?" Danny asked. "All I've been seeing are doors."

"Then you haven't ventured nearly as far as I'd thought you had. Maybe you're more cautious than I had thought."

Danny frowned at his words, and Vlad gave a small chuckle.

"That wasn't an insult, my boy. It was a compliment, if anything. Please, continue to err on the side of caution. It will keep the hide on your back and the ectoplasm in your veins where it belongs."

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

Possibly the worst thing Vlad did that day was assume that Danny would remain cautious after learning such interesting new things about the Ghost Zone. And as much as Vlad had truly meant it as a compliment, Danny couldn't help but correlate the word 'cautious' with the word 'coward'.

The dark-haired teen stood inside the lab with his two friends, having called them over after getting out of a movie-and-dinner plan involving his parents, Jazz, and Vlad.

"Alright, so how do I start filming with this thing?" Danny asked, adjusting the headset he wore.

It was a souped up gaming headset with a small battery-powered camera attached to one side. Tucker had created it so that he could record himself playing games at arcades, but had shelved it upon learning that the city's arcades forbade recordings in their facilities. Either way, Danny was honestly impressed with Tucker's tech prowess and creative skills.

"Right here." Tucker answered, reaching up and pressing a small button on the top of the camera. "Now just let it run. I'll be recording everything through my laptop."

He looked behind them toward the metal operating table, where Tucker had set up his computer. Danny hadn't bothered to fill the others in on just what went down on that table. It would have just freaked them out.

"Alright, let's do this." Danny said, shaking such thoughts from his mind. He turned his gaze on the glowing portal.

Danny couldn't help but feel a bit of apprehension. He would need to be careful not to give away his secret hidden inside the other bedroom. While the logical side of his brain assured him that his friends couldn't very well see through walls, another part urged at him to visit his old body. Who knew when he would get another chance.

Danny closed his eyes briefly, once again banishing unwanted thoughts away. He needed to keep his head about him if he wanted to venture into unexplored areas of the Ghost Zone. Vlad's words of warning hadn't been completely lost on him, hence why he technically wasn't doing this alone.

'If I get eaten by something, Sam and Tucker won't be able to help, but they sure will get some good camera footage.' Danny's mind quipped at him.

"Ready when you are, dude." Tucker said, having walked over to his computer.

"Got your phone?" Sam called from her chair, having been silently poring through various paranormal texts she had brought with her.

Danny waved it in the air as he walked toward the portal, stepping through it in a few strides. As soon as he entered, he lifted off his feet and ascended through the floors of the house, coming to hover over the top of the warped Fenton Works.

Looking around and seeing nothing unusual, Danny brought out his cellphone and dialed Sam's number. She picked up before the first ring could finish.

"Can you see everything alright?" Danny asked, adjusting the headset once more.

"Yeah." Sam answered. "It's amazing."

Tucker's agreement could be heard in the background, and Danny smiled, feeling relieved at having successfully avoided being drawn to his old body.

"Why is it all doors?" Sam asked as Danny looked around slowly, giving his friends a good view of the area.

"I'm not sure, really." Danny answered, picking a direction and flying slowly away from his home. "I guess they're like mini realms for smaller ghosts."

"Go in one!" came Tucker excited voice.

"No way." Danny replied. "Been there, done that. It was creepy."

"Oh yeah, you told us about that spooky tv kid." Sam said.

The three lapsed into silence, all taken up with viewing Danny's surroundings as he ventured further and further from the house, and the portal.

Danny was equal parts wanting to go further and equal parts wanting to fly back to the safety of his little island. He pressed onward steadily for what felt like hours.

"Hey guys," he asked, suddenly aware of their limited time. "How long have I been in here?"

"Umm," Sam answered slowly. "Like forty minutes. Don't worry, we still have time."

If Danny didn't have faith that Vlad knew he would be in the Ghost Zone, and therefore not let his parents arrive back home early, Danny would be more than a little nervous at the risk they were all taking. As it were, he felt safe to assume he had about four hours to explore and then get back.

"Woah, what's that?" Sam's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Huh?" Danny asked, coming to a stop.

"To your right."

Danny turned his head, and was surprised to see a far away building. Its figure was hard to make out from its distance, but it was the first thing other than a door Danny had seen so far.

"Wow." he couldn't help but comment out loud.

"What are you waiting for, dude." came Tucker's comment in the background.

"Hey, let me sit back in awe for a second." Danny replied, but quickly began flying toward the distant object, his speed increased significantly.

"Dang you can go fast!" Tucker laughed.

Danny grinned in silent response, and did a few spins, flying closely past a nearby door.

His friends' enthusiastic laughs and comments buzzed in Danny's ear as he soared through the empty space. However, as time passed and the building became only barely closer, the excitement dropped a few levels. Danny stopped doing spins and somersaults and began flying in a straight line for the building as fast as he could manage.

"Don't wear yourself out, Danny." Sam cautioned after a few minutes silence.

"How long has it been?" Danny asked.

"Hour and a half." Sam answered.

"It's further away than it looks." Danny said in growing frustration.

Why was everything here so far apart? Now it really was feeling like outer space. It was going to take years of traveling just to reach anything else.

Finally, after twenty more minutes, of which Danny spent nearly all of it just flying, with the small sidestop at a particular door with a shiny faux diamond doorknob. Tucker had begged him to open it, claiming there could be ghost treasure inside.

To shut him up, Danny had torn open the door and peeked inside, only to be screamed at by a slightly melted human figure. It stood up from its seat at a white vanity and threw a hand mirror right at Danny's face. He ducked, the item sailing over his head, and slammed the door shut.

Jetting away quickly, Danny listened to Tucker go between laughing hysterically and shrieking at the disturbing image of the woman-figure. Sam muttered comments of her own away from the phone, and Danny only picked up on a few curse words.

"Not doing that again." was Danny's only comment as he focused on nearing his destination.

It could now be clearly identified as a castle, with tall thin spires rising up. Large flags floated out in the windless sky, the heraldry stitched upon them torn beyond recognition.

Danny slowed down to a stop as he reached the outer wall. Cautiously, he reached out a hand to touch the pale stone. It lay firm under his touch, and Danny hovered back, looking for an entrance.

"Just fly up to one of the tower windows." Sam advised. "If something guards that place, I'm sure it keeps an eye on the front door."

"Good thinking." Danny replied, flying up the side of the castle and searching for a window.

Halfway up one of the towers was what he searched for, and Danny turned invisible before fazing through the old stained glass. Inside he found nothing more than a small circular room with a stone staircase.

He drifted slowly down, being completely silent, phone pressed against his ear. He quickly came to the end of the stairway, reaching a hallway. A long faded purple rug ran its entire length. Danny fazed through a few walls, entering an empty kitchen, dining hall, and what looked like a parlour. Everything was still, with not a hint that anyone called this castle home.

Danny then passed through another wall and found himself in a large empty room, with a high ceiling and statues of armor set up against the walls. Banners hung as well, but like the flags, their motifs were torn completely off, leaving the shredded remains to hang in tatters.

"Look for treasure." Tucker commented, thankfully in a quiet tone.

"I think everything of value's already been cleared out." Danny whispered back. He'd not seen a single piece of glinting silver or gold, and aside from the statues, the place was barren of decorations.

"Go to the throne room." Sam suggested.

"Where would that be?" Danny asked.

"I'm pretty sure you're in the main hall, so just follow it down to that entrance." she replied.

Danny did as told, letting go of his invisibility as he reached the arched entryway at the end of the hall. Large, heavy-looking curtains hung from either side, their once rich purple faded almost to grey in most places.

As Sam predicted, a slightly smaller room lay beyond the archway. Toward its end, the stone floor rose up a level, and in its centre sat a throne.

Well, most of a throne. Its upper half was torn almost completely away, splinters of it still scattered about. Whatever wood the throne had been carved from was definitely made to last. Its deep dark hue hadn't faded one bit, unlike everything else.

Twin "wows" came from both Tucker and Sam as Danny landed on his feet, standing before the imposing oversized chair. He reached out and brushed a stray splinter off the purple cushion, watching it land with barely a sound on the stone.

"Hey." Came Sam's voice suddenly, causing Danny to jump in fright.

"Jeeze, Sam, cough first." Danny said, lifting back into the air once more.

"Sorry," she said, a smile clear in her tone. "Just wanted to give you a heads up that you should probably start heading back now. It took you almost two hours to get there."

"Oh, right." Danny said, suddenly remembering the long flight home. He groaned in annoyance, ascending quickly through the castle ceiling, ignoring the rooms he passed.

Once he was out, Danny realised another dilemma.

"Hey, which direction is the house?"

"Shit." Sam said in reply.

"Wait wait, don't panic." Tucker said quickly. "Find the window you came in from. Then head opposite from it; that's the way back home."

"Thanks, Tuck." Danny answered in relief. For a second, he had truly thought he'd screwed up big time.

He flew toward the tower he felt was the one he'd entered.

"You know," Sam spoke as he peeked in through the window. "We should really think about mapping this place. You know, so you can explore while not getting completely lost."

Danny was happy to find that his guess was correct, and having found the right window, turned away from it and began flying as fast as he could back out into empty space.

"Good idea." he said. "We can hopefully make this a regular thing. I'd have to get Mr Masters' help, though."

"For what?" Sam asked, an edge in her voice. She obviously didn't like Vlad very much. Had said he gave her the creeps, and Danny could honestly understand why.

"Well someone would need to distract my mom and dad so we wouldn't have to worry about getting found out."

"Oh yeah." Sam replied, still not too pleased at the thought of Vlad being in on their exploration.

"Easy, Sam. He's been a great help so far." Danny assured.

"Just hurry up and get back here." she said. "I'm starting to get creeped out just watching all that empty silence."

"It's not so bad." Danny laughed. "I actually kinda like it. Though I do wish I could see more ghosts hanging around."

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

Jack's voice could be heard booming happily through the garage walls all the way up to Danny's bedroom, where the three kids were finishing homework assignments, at Sam's behest. If they were going to be spending the night, then they might as well get some assignments done, she'd reasoned.

Tucker wanted to scan through the video he had recorded, but neither Sam nor Danny really wanted to watch four hours of mostly empty space after having just went through it already.

"Show it to us when you've edited out the boring bits." Danny had said tiredly.

"Danny, we're home!" Maddie called from the living room. She had to shout over Jack's loud ramblings. Apparently combining a movie with a cool twist ending plus dinner with wine afterward made Jack want to discuss the movie in detail with anyone who would listen.

There was no way on earth Danny was going downstairs.

"Okay, Mom!" he called back down. "Sam and Tucker are here to spend the night!"

Silence was his reply for several seconds before his door opened up. Maddie looked in the three with a tired smile.

"Do you kids need anything?" she asked.

"No Mom, we're fine." Danny answered.

"It's pretty late, you know. You've got school tomorrow."

"We're going to sleep soon." Danny assured.

"Alright then, sleep tight."

With that, Maddie closed the door with a click, her quiet steps retreating back downstairs. The three friends went about dragging out blankets and pillows while they listened to Maddie pull Jack away from a one-sided conversation on the film's foreshadowing. He was eventually led upstairs, where his heavy steps ended in his bedroom.

Jazz could be heard soon after, sighing loudly in relief and heading to her own room. Vlad was completely silent as he presumably headed to his guest room on the ground floor. Danny hoped he wasn't too annoyed by his dad's antics already. He was going to be asking him to go out with them more often, after all, if they wanted to make any headway on Sam's map idea.

Tucker and Sam were soon laying spread out across Danny's floor, their eyes glued to the tv as they watched a favorite horror film. Despite their excitement over finally seeing the Ghost Zone, they were both quickly overcome with exhaustion and fell asleep.

Danny was quick to follow, the hours of flying at breakneck speed having taken their toll on him. He too quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, filled with blackness and the calm sensation of flying.

#ersatz au #danny phantom #vlad masters #the ghost zone #gz lore and exploration chapter is basically all this is #maybe some day i'll have all the chapters here #i cant believe how many chapters this damn fic has what have I done!!??