Total Drama Au - Tumblr Posts
DISVENTURE CAMP X DANGANRONPA CAST - S1 - Alec
ALEC - The Librarian
“They are the Protagonist of this New Killing game.”
CHARACTER 1/16
Good job on the idea! I am gonna make one with Total drama and Disventure camp separately and set after their original seasons.
Disventure camp ronpa will have the S1 cast
Disventure camp ronpa 2 will have the S2 cast.
Total drama Ronpa 1 will have gen 1
(and so forth)
Upcoming...
30.10.2024
"hi, i'm Jake and i'm trapped in a killing game full of frauds...and despair..."
SURVIVORS: 18
UPCOMING: DISVENTURE CAMP DANGANRONPA AU
Danganronpa X Total drama Gen 1 AU Facts/Notes
I made this AU cause I wanted to try my take on the Total drama X Danganronpa stuff!!!
Notes:
1 - The Gen 1 Killing game takes place after The Reboots 2nd Season and the cast are Adults.
2 - Chris and Chef are not the mascots this time around as in this AU they are members of the killing game cast.
3 - The Mascot of this AU killing game is something original this time around instead of Mono-Chris! (Why cannot people do something more creative like Jeez?!?!)
4 - There will be 26 Participants in this Killing game AU. (22 being the original cast plus the 2 new characters in World tour and Chris and Chef)
5 - The Killing game will be set in a Simulation Version of the Gen 1 island. (But the characters won’t know that.)
6 - Disventure camp characters also exist in this AU due to them having the same art style.
((I might make a Fanfic version of this AU but I’m still figuring out the death order))
Danganronpa X Total drama AU
This AU takes place in a Non-despair AU but the characters dynamics or Backstories stay Somewhat the same.
This AUs Challenges will be a mix of Canon and Original challenges.
I hope you people enjoy it and I might make a elimination order in the future.
Season casts:
1 - Season 1: Thh cast
2 - Season 2: Goodbye despair Cast
3 - All-stars: Mix of previous 2 seasons + V3 cast.
Danganronpa X Total drama AU - Goodbye despair
This is the S2 Cast of this AU.
Some of the character Dynamics in this Cast is…
1 - Hajime and Chiaki are Friends who met on an online Forums site for chatting.
2 - Mikian is bullied by Fuyuhiko plus Hiyoko and Ibuki + Nagito is trying to make her feel better.
3 - Mahiru and Hiyoko are good friends.
(mostly the character dynamics are similar to Canon somewhat.)
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The location of this Season would be set at a Movie set like in Action.
Each episode would be similar to Action though there would be some differences to canon.
(Like one of the merge challenges coming in earlier then In canon)
Total drama: Mega All-Stars - concept.
(This is a Total drama custom Season set in my Total drama Next Gen AU)
The plot:
Chris finds out that the reboot of Total drama is gonna get Axed by the producers/Higher ups and he decides to get (Almost) Everyone from the previous generation casts for one final season in order to give nearly everyone one last chance to win the Cash prize.
———————————-
The season in general:
1 - There would be 4 Teams with 4 different hosts representing them. The 4 Teams would be based on (Beauty, Brains, Brawn and Loyalty/Trust.)
2 - The Season would be set in a World Tour Type format (With some changes due to some countries with Laws that could get the contestants Hurt/Killed.)
3 - There would be Double eliminations with the last 2 Teams in 3/4th place would be up for the chopping block while the first 2 Teams would be in the winners Lounge.
4 - There would be 4 New contestants for the 4 teams with one representing each team. There would be 2 boys and 2 girls.
5 - THE HOSTS:
Team Brains: Chris mclean
Team brawn: Chef
Team beauty: Blantley
Team Trust/Loyalty: Don
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Extra stuff:
1 - Because my Total drama AU is a Deconstruction of the show Total drama, There will be some deconstruction in the story with realistic elements. (I was inspired by Total Trauma to make this)
2 - I made this for fun. And I love Total drama/Disventure camp with all my Heart.
3 - There will be some Disventure camp characters appearing in this AU Custom season.
4 - There will be some Ships also! Because I want to practice writing Romance and stuff like that.
Total drama Post-Reboot AU - “The Hosts”
This is my Take on a Total drama AU where the Previous Gen casts are Adults and it's taking place during 2024.
Some of these are based on my Headcanons or how I see the world of total drama playing out.
———————————————————-
GEN 1 CHARACTERS:
Chris MClean:
He is still the current Host of Total drama and the Reboot, Previously he was seen as a bit unhinged and crazy by the public and News articles which lead to him being forced to get Therapy in order to prevent lawsuits from some sources.
Chris is still Stable personality wise and hopes to do more in his career. He is planning on making a new season with the reunion of some of the past Generations cast + Reboot cast.
—————————————————-
Chef:
Chef is Mr. Mcleans Assistant when doing Total drama Seasons, He was also a Former Army Sargent and many other things. (Ex: Dancer, Actor, Reward show Host.)
While Total drama was on Hiatus while the reboot was being planned, He was writing his Autobiography and Building his Dream Yacht and other stuff.
Chef is still Chrises assistant and are on good terms despite the situations surrounding The Main host.
——————————————————————
Blaineley:
She was the former host of Celebrity Manhunt and Total drama World tour aftermath, Plus a Contestent of that shows season. (Which was a weird choice if you ask me.)
Otherwise…She is currently a Magazine Model and she has told the public that she doesn't feel like doing TV hosting again due to what she has been though.
She is also known for Mentoring/Talking too other TV talk show hosts, Like Emily who is known for her interviews with the Disventure camp All-stars Cast.
What else is she gonna do? Time will tell and we shall see…
————————————————————————-
SPIN-OFF HOSTS:
Don:
He was the Host of the Ridonculous race, Which was seen by the public as a knock-off of the amazing race which is one of the reasons of it only getting one seasons on Canadian Television.
Don is still liked though due to his Respectful nature of Following the rules and not having many Controversies that some might get.
Don has also started to mentor Topher (Who was a previous contestant on total drama.) as a Assistant for future seasons and other stuff that Don must attend too.
——————————————————————
Thanks for reading this post! I wanted to make a AU like this cause I love a Total drama reunion type series/Parody deconstruction series like Total Trauma for some time.
Otherwise I hope you have a good day and Hope your enjoying yourselves! 💙👍
Again about Total Drama, I just thought of this!
i call it, Total Drama New Chance(Or second chance if you prefer)!
The purpose of this concept would be to give a second chance to competitors who have the potential to win or deserve further development.
Maybe I can choose other characters but at the moment this is my idea, what do you all think?
(and yes, this concept would have two main hosts, I just think it would be interesting what their dynamic would be like as hosts. plus, the villains would be Emmy, Sugar and maybe Eva)
Sound the Alarm
Emma just wants to get some sleep, keep her little sister in check, and earn her law degree. Relationships are the last thing on her mind.
Her four mental goals are suddenly cut down to one once she meets her crazy next door neighbors.
And it starts by setting off the fire alarm.
(AKA: The Nemma Neighbor AU that no one asked for
This ship doesn’t get enough appreciation ToT)
Based off fic 2 am by shmulia
It was two am, and Emma is going to murder the person who set off the fire alarm.
She rips the sheets off her body and opens the door viciously. If this was Kitty trying to cook anything but ramen, then Emma is going to kick her out of the apartment and throw away her key.
Emma slit her eyes, looking at the spotless kitchen that was free of her sister, and turns to see Kitty stumble out of her room, more tired than pissed off.
It had been a long day for Emma; being a law student was a full-time job, with that on top of her other job— keeping her little sister in check. She had an essay that she spent hours writing on, and when it was finally over she had to finish the chores Kitty had clearly neglected before she had wanted to pass out.
And now some idiot had set off the fire alarm.
Emma is going to kill them.
Involuntary actions are free of ill will, Emma reminds herself as she stomps towards the door. Kitty crashes on the couch, trusting her sister to give the guilty resident a piece of her mind.
Emma grabs the doorknob and yanks it open, the door flying open and slamming against the wall with a nasty bang. Emma is too furious to care — the damage would be morning-Emma’s problem.
Then she stops. Stares. And stares some more, because she is tired and is pretty sure this was a hallucination.
He is gorgeous. A couple inches taller than her, lean with brown skin and chocolate eyes that seemed extremely wide the moment she opened the door. His fist is raised, like he was going to knock on the door before she whipped it open.
Maybe she hadn't been that bad in a past life, Emma thinks as she takes in the guy in front of her, because God was clearly apologising for the fire alarm. Really, how often did good-looking guys turn up on her doorstep?
Not since her ex-boyfriend Jake, and Emma refuses to give him an ounce of thought this early in the morning and in the face of a guy easily more attractive than him.
The two stare at each other and Emma waits for the guy to speak.
"Oh. Um. Hey— hi! I’m Noah. I live next door.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “I don't know if you heard the fire alarm go off just now— " he starts, before Emma cuts him off.
"Oh, I heard alright," she narrows her eyes. If Noah reveals that he was the one who set the alarm off, hotness be damned Emma would make sure his death was swift and painful.
Noah gulps nervously.
"Ah, okay. My roommate is kind of responsible for that, and he sent me over to apologise. So. Yeah. Sorry about that."
Emma folds her arms across her chest. "And he didn't come over to apologise because … ?"
Noah raises his hands defensively. "He's just clearing the air in our apartment. He said he'll come out in a minute, but wanted someone to apologise right away — and then he shoved me out of the door before I was even awake!”
Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “No way. You slept through that alarm?”
Noah shrugs, a small smirk working its way up on his lips. “I could sleep through the apocalypse if I wanted to.”
Emma laughs, and finds herself surprised how genuine it was. She leans against the doorway and notices Noah’s eyes flicking down her body before looking away, his cheeks reddening.
She realizes she is in her pajamas, consisting of her extremely short shorts and her orange oversized sweatshirt that says The Best Lawyer Sister that Kitty gave her. Emma is unable to stop the small grin growing on her face, and he coughs.
Noah cleared his throat in a desperate attempt to distract them both. "Anyway ... Sorry about the fire alarm," he says.
Emma nods and represses a yawn. "It's fine," she says. She rubs her eyes as a wave of exhaustion passes over her, washing away her anger and replacing it with the desire to sleep. "Just try not to do it again, okay?"
Noah nods. "Sure, no prob— " his reply is cut short by the opening of an apartment door. A big blonde boy emerges from the slightly smoky doorway and his eyes light up when he spots Noah. He bounded across the hallway, coming to a stop next to Noah. He must be the roommate, Emma assumes.
She is a bit surprised, to be honest — the two were quite the contrasting pair to look at, and it wasn’t just physically-wise. The blonde was literally bouncing on his feet and looking incredibly awake while Noah stood still, looking bored and tired.
Emma stifles another laugh — it is exactly the same expression she wears when Kitty was being too exuberant.
"Hi! You must be Emma! We're your neighbours!" the blonde says happily, gesturing between Noah and himself. “I’m Owen, and this is my little buddy, Noah!”
Another contrast. If Noah was like outer space: deep, dark, and endless; then Owen was like the sun — bright, light (metaphorically speaking), and a big ball of energy. Emma wasn't really sure how to deal with someone this energetic at two in the morning.
"Er, hi," she says. She frowns slightly as a thought occurs to her. "Wait, how do you know my name?"
"We know Kitty," Owen says. “She’s your little sister, right?”
Emma blinks in surprise. “Yeah, but— how do you know her?" Emma racks her brain to remember if Kitty had ever mentioned the two guys standing opposite her.
"We're in the same photography class," Owen smiles, and a glimmer of remembrance filters through Emma’s memory of Kitty mentioning a boy in her class who was ridiculously nice. Emma could see where she was coming from.
She turns to Noah and he answers her unspoken question. “She’s just a friend of a friend to me. I can only deal with one extrovert at a time.” He rolls his eyes and Emma can’t help but giggle. Oh, she can definitely relate.
Noah’s eyes glint with satisfaction when he hears her laugh and his gaze flicks to something behind her. "Speak of the devil," he says dryly, and Emma turns around to see her little sister walking towards them, rubbing her eyes.
"Did I hear that right? You guys set off the fire alarm?"
Owen beams, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I was just cooking a late night snack because I missed dinner, and as I was cooking, I realised I hadn't called my Izzy all day! So I thought, hey, the food will take a while, so I'll just call her now! And Izzy’s phone calls usually last hours, and I guess I forgot that I was cooking until the whole kitchen was on fire!”
Noah nudges Owen, somehow still looking deadpan while Kitty and Emma are enraptured by the story. “Go ahead and tell them the worst part, Big Guy.”
Owen's face twists, his mouth turning downward as his eyes turn watery. "And … I … burned the food! It’s gone! Ruined! Never to be eaten again …” Owen sinks to the floor and covers his face, sobbing quietly.
The sisters stare at the cheerful blonde on his knees, not sure how to comfort him. Emma stares at Noah. This guy has just sent the most enthusiastic person Emma has ever met to tears in a few words, and he still looks unfazed as Kitty begins patting Owen’s shoulder sympathetically.
Clearly, he has a vicious streak when his sleep is interrupted.
The lack of sleep must be messing with her mind, because Emma finds that extremely attractive.
"Anyway, we’re sorry the alarm took so long to turn off," Noah tears his eyes away from the scene. "There was a lot of smoke, and we had to fan the air out of the window to try and clear it."
Emma shrugs, holding Noah’s dark gaze. "Like I said — don’t do it again, and we’re all good.”
For some reason, Noah seems to cringe. “Yeah … Well, I think I should warn you ahead of time, but Owen’s girlfriend, Izzy, is kind of …” he taps his finger against his lip thoughtfully, and Emma can’t even tell if the action is sarcastic or if he’s genuinely looking for the right word. “ … eccentric. Like, psycho-hose beast eccentric. We got kicked out of our last apartment we shared with her because of noise complaints, arson, and fire alarms at ungodly hours of the night.”
Emma stares at him, hoping that she conveys the sheer amount of disbelief in her gaze. “Tell me you’re being sarcastic.” She says — no, more like demands.
Noah looks back, deadpan, but Emma can tell that he is genuinely sorry. She groans, banging her head on the doorway. God, if every other night was going to be like this, Emma might actually murder someone.
Noah watches her with something not quite bemusement, but something else entirely. “Don’t worry, I keep her in line.”
Emma looks up from her head-banging, and he continues, flushing a little. “I make sure to watch out for Izzy and keep her from going too crazy. Need to make sure the best lawyer gets her beauty sleep.”
Emma ignores the way her heart jumps; that last part was definitely sarcasm, even though it didn’t feel like it. For some reason, Kitty and Owen have stopped whatever they were doing and are staring at Noah like they can’t believe their eyes.
Kitty’s gaze in particular flick towards Emma, and she scrupulously avoids her eyes. Her sister knew her like the back of her hand, and Emma didn’t want Kitty to think … certain things.
Emma is about to respond to Noah, but tiredness suddenly overwhelms her. She attempts to suppress a yawn, but couldn't quite prevent a sigh coming out. She presses her head against the doorframe, blinking rapidly to try and stay awake.
She doesn’t realise that Noah is still watching her until his voice pulls her away from the slight daze she finds herself in.
"C’mon, Big Guy, it's time for bed. " The smaller boy nudges him with his elbow and nods towards Emma,whose dependency on the doorframe is becoming more obvious by the second.
"Oh, right. Sorry for keeping you two up!" Owen said earnestly. "Is there any way we can make it up to you?"
Emma is about to request "let me go to bed" as her response, but Kitty gets there first.
"Why don’t we hang out?"
Emma straightens up immediately, glancing at Kitty in surprise and warning. She knew she was busy, but Kitty’s eyes flick pointedly to Noah, then back at Emma. She winks slyly.
The little brat was setting her up!
A blush formed on Noah and Emma’s cheeks, and Owen’s face split into a grin. "That would be awesome! We can go out to eat and hang out — all four of us!"
Kitty crosses her arms, smiling. "You owe us dinner for waking us up at two in the morning for your dinner. I love a free meal, and Emma needs to get out more."
"Hey!"
"Am I wrong, Miss I’m-married-to-my-law-degree-book?"
" … No."
"Exactly. So, you guys game?" Kitty asks.
Noah’s eyes met Emma’s, and his cheeks reddened further. "Dinner... would be nice," he says, breaking eye contact with her. Owen nodded enthusiastically, grin unwavering.
"Awesome. We'll figure out the details tomorrow. I think Emma’s gonna pass out if she doesn't get in bed asap." Kitty says, pulling her sister out of the doorway and into the room. "See you guys round!"
She shuts the door as the boys say goodbye, and immediately turns around to give Emma the widest smile she’s ever seen.
"So ... you and Noah, huh?" she asks, smirking at the usually unflustered girl.
"Goodnight, Kitty," Emma says, waving as she turns her back on her sister and walks towards her room.
"You're welcome!” Kitty calls to her retreating back. “And you owe me one!”
"For what?" Emma asks, confused.
Kitty winks. "Trust me when I say that you and Noah are going to get on reeeeally well," the younger girl says, before shutting her door.
Emma shakes her head and goes into her room to curl up in her bed. As she tucks the duvet around herself, Emma realizes that the smile she wore around Noah hadn’t faded in the slightest as she fell into blissful unconsciousness.
Bros before Hoes
In which Duncan happens to find his neighbor cute, and his idiot roommates throw him a party because of it.
(AKA: The bros who drink together, sleep together)
Inspired by PPG/RRB fic on ao3
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
On a list of things Duncan would like to wake up to (women on the top, cops on the bottom), this is not it. Heck, this probably wouldn’t even be on the list.
And by this, he means the completely trashed apartment littered with beer bottles, overflowing trash, and very questionable stains on the walls. Not to mention the dead bodies currently scattered around the living room.
Wait, not dead bodies, but Duncan can only wish.
How was this possible? He went to sleep at, like, ten last night and if he wasn’t mistaken, he had gone to bed while the house was quiet and the only people home were Geoff and DJ. So how the hell were there more than a dozen people in the living room and why did it look like an absolute shit show?
A groan emerges from the couch before a blonde head appears in sight. “Oh,” Geoff says when he sees Duncan standing there. “Sup, dude?”
“What— ” Duncan takes a breath. “ —THE ACTUAL FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!”
Geoff winces and raises a hand to rub his head. “Ouch, not so loud. I have a headache.” He whined.
So did Duncan. “What. Happened. Here.” Duncan narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice dangerously. Geoff laughs awkwardly and avoids his eyes.
“Oh, well, we sorta … kinda … uh,” Geoff gestures vaguely at the apartment. “... had a party?”
Duncan honestly doesn’t know how he could be surprised. This is what he gets for rooming with Geoff.
“How?!” He yells at him. Duncan wasn’t a really light sleeper, but he’s pretty sure he would’ve heard a party going on downstairs. “What time did these people get here!? How did I sleep through a fucking party?”
“Yeah … about that,” Geoff laughs nervously. “We sorta had a kickback last night but we knew you were asleep so we didn’t want to wake you up. Somehow, it became a game of ‘how quiet can this party be so Duncan doesn’t wake up' and we lasted the whole night! You didn’t wake up at all! Everyone was whispering and we had music playing at the lowest volume, and it was actually really fun. Super weird, but fun.”
Duncan is almost impressed. Almost. Trust Geoff to make a quiet party fun. “I’m not helping you clean up,” he informs him. He eyes a body on the floor that turns out to be DJ, cuddling an empty beer bottle while completely unconscious.
“Aww, dude!” Geoff whines, “I hate cleaning! Come on, we kept it quiet for you!”
Duncan takes another look around the room and begrudgingly admits that it is kinda amazing that they managed to have a party without him waking up. It’s actually a little sweet that they took him into consideration. But still, fuck them.
“No.”
“Duncaaan,” Geoff groans, throwing his upper body off the couch. “C’mon, bro! Please? Dunky? Dunk-man?”
“Don’t call me that!” Duncan yells as he grabs his gym bag. “And this place better be spotless by the time I get back!”
He slams the door and a satisfied smile grows on his face as Geoff’s protests are cut off. Duncan turns to head down the hallway and nearly crashes with someone who lets out a high pitched squeal.
“Oh! I’m sorry!”
Duncan looks down and— oh hell, it’s her. Of all the people in the apartment for him to run into, why does it have to be her? Granted, she did live next to him— but still, why?
Wide brown eyes peer up at him and her head cocks slightly to the side as she blinks. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Huh?” He’s so close to her he can see the smattering of freckles on her nose.
“Oh! Sorry, I just mean I see you around a lot because you’re my neighbor,” she stumbles, cheeks turning a little pink.
“Oh,” he says a bit more gruffly than he should. He tries his hardest not to check her out and fails. She must’ve just come back from a jog — her short brown hair is tied back and she’s wearing tiny gray shorts and a matching crop top.
“Are you going to the gym right now?” She asks, taking note of the gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Duncan grunts, staring at the staircase behind her. He will not be weakened by a tight fitting tank top, he will not. “I go early to avoid people, I hate crowded gyms.”
She makes a noise of understanding. There’s a beat of awkward silence, where she looks as uncomfortable as he feels before she sticks out her hand.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever got your name.” She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear and Duncan’s eyes follow it, wondering why the hell he thought the little action was so cute.
“Duncan,” he shakes her hand, hyper aware of how soft and small her hand is as his big and callus ones swallow hers.
“Courtney,” she dimples and Duncan’s stupid heart skips a beat. “Well, have fun!” She smiles cheerily at him and Duncan can’t take his eyes off of her. What the fuck.
“Thanks,” he mutters as he walks past her. He catches a glance of her as she opens the door to her own apartment. Damn it, she has a nice ass.
Duncan contemplates throwing himself down the stairs before he decides against it.
It’s a waste, he figures. One flight won’t really do any damage.
***
By the time Duncan makes it home it’s evening. Stopping in front of his door, Duncan narrows his eyes as he hears muffled voices inside the apartment. Either Geoff and DJ actually cleaned the place or he’s about to open the door to the same shitshow as this morning.
For their sake, he hopes the former.
He pushes the door open and the apartment abruptly falls quiet. The two occupants have frozen in fear, staring at the door with varying degrees of terror. DJ is cowering behind Geoff, who isn’t making a very suitable defense seeing as he too, is shielding away. Duncan’s eyes flit between them and he’s pleased to see a cleaning device in each of their hands.
The apartment isn’t exactly clean, but it’s not a complete mess anymore. At least they’re trying, he has to give them that.
“O-Oh hey man, you’re back,” Geoff coughs, hugging a broom to his chest. “We were cleaning, I swear!”
“I can see that,” he grunts, closing the door. “Sup, Malibu?” He greets the other occupant in his apartment.
Bridgette is sitting by the counter, skimming through a surf magazine while stroking DJ’s pet, Bunny. She looks up with calm green eyes and gives him an easy smile. “Hey Duncan,” she says.
“What happened to being clean by the time I got back?” Duncan asks his roommates pointedly.
“Cut us some slack man, we didn’t really wake up until Bridgette got here,” DJ says from his spot by the sink.
Duncan ignores him with a roll of his eyes, plopping down across from Bridgette. Bunny hops over to him curiously and Duncan sets him with a glare. Yeah, he might have gotten DJ his pet after Geoff and Bridgette might’ve killed his last one (Geoff kept insisting it was lost while Bridgette said it was eaten by a snake that was eaten by a hawk or something), but that didn’t mean he wanted that thing closer to him.
Duncan didn’t do cute things.
So lost in his (one-sided) glaring contest, Duncan didn’t notice the change in conversation until too late.
“Oh yeah, who’s that cute girl by the way?” Geoff asks. “You know, the one who lives next to us?”
“Oh, you mean Courtney? Short brown hair, cute smile?"
It’s a little embarrassing how quickly Duncan perks up, and from the corner of his eye he can see Bridgette give him a knowing glance. Duncan scowls warningly. Out of the four of them, only Malibu knows about his little problem— and Duncan would like to keep it that way, thank you very much.
Except the thing is, he forgets how much Bridgette likes a good romance. “Oh yeah! The girl that Duncan likes, right?"
The reaction is instantaneous.
“What?! Bro, you have a crush? No way!”
“Why didn’t you tell us? My boy’s growin’ up!”
“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Duncan roars and Bunny leaps back in shock.
Bridgette just grins and flips through another page of her magazine. Duncan is tempted to crumble it up. “Oh, you didn’t know?” She says casually. “He met her a few weeks ago and it was like love at first sight.”
It was not.
“You should’ve seen him! She stopped by to say hi, he said ‘nice to meet you’ and when she left he couldn’t get a word out for the next ten minutes. He just gawked at her, although, I guess I can’t blame him. She was cute.”
He did not.
“I’ve never seen him look so lost before, it was kinda adorable. I think he was blushing.”
He was not.
“Bro, I don’t think you’ve ever had a crush before, have you?” DJ asks.
“How would you know!" He shoots back indignantly.
DJ shrugs, unaffected by the rage that’s coming off of him in waves. “I dunno man, I’ve just never seen you show any real interest in anyone before."
Duncan is momentarily struck dumb. Shit, was DJ right? He’s had crushes, right? This isn’t so special. Of course he’s had his fair share of girls, dicked around with them like any other guy— but those had only been short flings, chicks he’d pick up in bars and fool around with until he was no longer interested. Has he never really had a crush before?
Geoff, thankfully, interrupts his spiraling thought process and slings an arm around his neck. “Dudes, you know what we should do?” He grins. “Let’s celebrate!”
“Hell no!” Duncan shoves him away. “What are we even celebrating for?”
“Your first crush, dude!” Geoff beams and Duncan is this close to strangling the happy-dumb look off his face.
“It’s not a crush!” He yells.
“C’mon man, it’s Saturday,” DJ says. He even pulls out his puppy eyes, as if his sparkling round orbs are going to convince him. “What are you even gonna do today anyway, huh?”
Duncan grimaces and can feel himself actually give the idea some consideration. Why is he considering it again?
“We’ll get your favorites,” DJ adds. “It’s your party after all. You get to call the shots.”
Duncan winces. He takes a look around the room and sees their stupid faces beaming with excited grins.
Duncan sighs. “Fine.”
***
One pack of beer, two bags of chips, and three pizzas later, and everyone is absolutely smashed.
It’s at this point Duncan can say with complete confidence that he fucking loves his best friends. Sure, DJ can’t swim without a floaty and always listens to his mama and Geoff is way too happy and loud and can’t go a day without making out with Bridgette, but man, they’re just, like, such good people.
Like, he just loves the fucking hell out of them. They’re the best guys out there, and have been with his shitty self since high school. Duncan doesn’t know why he spent so long denying that they were friends— he wishes he could beat his younger punk-ass self for all the dumb things he said back then.
If only there was some way he could express how he felt.
“Hey, I fucking hate you guys,” Duncan says earnestly. “But, like, in the best way.”
They groan in acknowledgment and Duncan closes his eyes.
Girls are dumb. Feelings are dumb. Everything is dumb, but he doesn’t even care anymore. Why? Because he’s got his boys by him, and Duncan would fight the whole fucking world for them.
Yeah.
***
Duncan wakes up to something soft and fluffy smothering him. Fur is in his mouth, and he is suffocating on it because his head is pounding and he doesn't have the strength to pull away.
Duncan groans, agonized as the fluffy thing slides off his face. He squints to see Bunny, furry butt in his face as it cuddles against him. You better not have pooped in my bed, Duncan doesn’t have the strength to threaten aloud. His mouth is tacky and his eyes are crusty and Duncan would very much like to wake up when the next century has passed, thanks.
Duncan lets out an annoyed grumble and tosses the covers from his body. He’s about to roll over to the ground to do his push-ups (a habit he’s had since juvie) when he notices two things.
One: the sheer amount of nausea he feels. Duncan almost throws up if it weren’t for the deep breaths Malibu taught him to calm himself. Oh God, he’s definitely listening to her more when she goes on about him and the guys consuming poison. Hangovers are hell.
Two: the suspiciously familiar cowboy hat.
“What the fuck?!”
His hoarse yell makes the other occupant in his bed jerk awake. “Man, keep it down,” DJ says. His bandana is twisted backwards. “It’s too early.” A hand appears to shove him back into bed.
Duncan is tempted to smack him away, but that requires effort and energy. None of which he has right now. He settles for a weak shove as DJ snuggles him like he would Bunny. Curse him and his incessant need for cuddling. “Why the fuck are you in my bed?”
Another groan sounds by his feet. Geoff yawns and rubs his eyes, lifting his head to look at them. He looks stupid without his ever-present hat on (he looks stupid with it on anyway) and is curled up like a puppy at the foot of the bed. Duncan is struck with the urge to kick him off before he decides that’s too cruel.
“Don’t you remember?” Geoff asks. “We all came in here to talk about our feelings.”
Duncan stares at him in disbelief. “No we did not.”
“Yeah we did, and it was magical,” Geoff responds, voice muffled as he buries his face into the pillow. “You wouldn’t shut up about the girl who lives next door.”
“Courtney,” DJ supplies helpfully.
Duncan stares in mute horror. How drunk did he get last night? He talked about feelings? And girls?
Who even is he?
“It’s okay Duncan. Mama always says that the more you deny the bigger the feelings are. You can keep pretending you’re not a softie. It’ll come out someday.” DJ pats his head, like Duncan’s green mohawk is supposed to be Geoff’s idiotic blonde mop.
Duncan almost tells him to fuck off, but bites his tongue because DJ is too sensitive to be told that. Instead, he says, “And doesn’t your Mama say to never drink?” DJ reaches a hand out to cover his face and shoves him back down into his pillow.
Wow, the bed feels amazing.
DJ tries to pet him like he would Bunny — all gentle and reassuring — but the big guy’s hand feels like a meaty deadweight hitting his face over and over again.
“I hate you guys,” Duncan mutters, shoving his hand away.
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Geoff yawns. It sounds like he’s going back to sleep. That actually sounds like a pretty nice idea.
“You guys better get out,” Duncan grunts, feeling his eyelids grow heavy, “I’m warning you.” He lets himself sink deeper into his pillow. “Leave or die,” he mutters, eyes closing. The last thing he hears is Geoff’s quiet snoring.
They don’t leave, and Duncan sleeps peacefully.
to love and to learn
I’ve had this request since 2022 and had half done for more than a year now. Sorry it took so long! 😭
Summary: (to have and to hold)
Zoey navigates her relationship with Mike and co. throughout the year, learning that just because things are tough doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hold onto who they are.
A girl with a heart as big as hers shouldn’t be afraid to speak it.
| he is so many things. he is everything. she loses her heart and gets it back, this time ready to hold on. |
*♥️*🩵*
Mal (Spring)
Zoey unlocked the door to her place, purposefully making more noise than necessary as she closed the door and placed all her belongings on the table.
“I’m back!” She called out.
The empty house said nothing back and Zoey sighed, heart sinking. She didn’t know what she was expecting, to be honest. Her house was always empty, always silent, always dark. Normally, that would be any teenager's dream, but Zoey had always felt constricted when she was alone — like she was one tug away from panicking.
Separation anxiety, is what Courtney would call it. Neglect.
Zoey the Lonely, is what the elementary school kids called her.
It wasn’t like Zoey’s parents were bad or anything like that. They were just … never around. They were busy with work and away on trips often, which was fine because they were making money and putting a roof over her head. So Zoey didn’t say anything when they didn’t call her and she always smiled when the neighbors asked how her parents were and if she was fine …
Zoey shook her head out of the thoughts she wandered in. She had friends — close friends, better than anything she could have asked for — and that was enough.
Zoey walked over to the fridge and opened it — only to find absolutely nothing at all. Zoey quickly began looking through the shelves in the pantry and resisted the urge to sigh.
Right, she was supposed to go grocery shopping like, a week ago, curse finals for making her forget —
Zoey grabbed her wallet, keys, and phone and walked out of the house even though it was midnight.
Anything was better than being alone in an empty house.
* * *
Zoey is a sixteen year old girl walking home alone late at night, and apparently that’s some sort of welcome mat to get mugged.
Her credit card is weeping from the amount of things she’s bought but the food will last her a while so she doesn’t have to go shopping again. Zoey’s in good spirits as she crosses the street.
Normally, she would take the buses, but she doesn’t want to wait around outside when it’s one am and she has school tomorrow — well, today. She's also relaxed enough for the first time in about three months to let her guard down a bit, so it's a real shame that she immediately gets jumped by thugs the moment she does.
Zoey shrieks when a heavy hand covers her mouth and she gets dragged into an alleyway. Her back slams into a wall behind her, and Zoey counts three big, dark, intimidating thugs in front of her.
"Hands up, sweetheart, nice and easy," the biggest guy says, waving his gun at her.
Ice-cold fear shot in her veins and she instinctively reached for her pepper spray. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt empty space. She forgot it!
"He said hands up, kid!" the second guy barks at her, his own gun leveling out somewhere wildly above Zoey’s shoulder.
Zoey flinches. Great, not only would she be killed by thugs, she would be killed by amateur thugs. With the way they were holding the guns, she would most likely be shot by their own carelessness rather than actual intention.
"We don't want any trouble, just your money."
Zoey bit back a retort. Yeah, because teenagers just happen to be real millionaires. Who's even teaching these guys how to pick targets —
The thugs move forward, and Zoey cuts off her inner dialogue. Adrenaline races through her veins and her hands tremble at her sides. Just as she tries to summon her voice to call for help, or to desperately use one of Courtney’s self-defense lessons —
“Hey.”
All four of them jump, and the three thugs turn around to see two figures. Zoey couldn’t make out their facial features in the dark, but one was short and stocky while the other was tall and lanky.
The short one took a menacing step forward. “Leave the girl alone, and I promise we’ll leave you with your teeth intact.”
The thugs laugh. “Oh yeah? Last I checked, there’s three of us, and two of you. And we have guns.”
The tall one walks forward, and the thugs gasp. From her place Zoey can’t see who he is, but it makes the thugs tremble.
“B-boss … it’s the Malevolent One! And … the short mohawked green punk!”
Short mohawked green punk? That sounded like someone she knew, but who was the Malevolent One?
Caught up in her musings, Zoey almost didn’t notice the conversation going on.
"Hey kid, we said — hey, stop that creepy grinning, we're pointing a gun at you — "
Duncan just grins wider, cracks his knuckles, and throws himself into a fight.
Zoey screams as Duncan tackles the thug that called him short and gleefully begins going to town on him. The Malevolent One moves like a shadow, knocking the gun from the thug leader and sending him unconscious.
Slowly, they both turn to look at the last thug standing.
The thug’s face loses all its color and he jumps back in terror, screaming as he drops his gun in his haste to escape.
Zoey is frozen, gasping hard as her knees tremble. The two took on three armed thugs and managed to escape with only bruised knuckles.
Zoey’s legs suddenly give out.
“Hey, Zo, are you okay?” A hand is placed on her shoulder, and Zoey looks up to see Duncan staring down at her.
Zoey can’t help but smile. Duncan liked to put up this bad-boy image to make him seem tough, but secretly he had a soft heart. Zoey was glad to be one of the few to see it.
“Yeah, I — um, yeah. Just in shock. No need to worry about me.”
Duncan offers a hand to help her up, handing her the groceries in the process. Zoey shakily stands up, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Duncan.”
She looks at the other guy, whose figure was hiding in the shadows. “Thanks …” she trails off hesitantly.
He steps into the light and her heart stops. Mike, is her first thought. The tall, lanky body, the skin color, the face. Then she looks closer — the frown on his lips, the dark look on his face, the hair covering his eye.
“Mal,” Zoey says. Her throat suddenly feels extremely dry and she resists the urge to swallow.
“Zoey,” he responded neutrally.
Duncan looks back and forth, obviously picking up the strange air between them. “So, are you headed home?” He asked. Zoey and Mal both broke off the weird trance they found themselves in from staring at each other.
“Yeah,” Zoey nodded. “I was just walking back.”
Duncan takes the grocery bags and turns away. “Come on, we’ll walk with you! Don’t want you to get mugged again, do we?”
Zoey exchanged a bewildered look with Mal, but when he merely raised a brow she quickly flushed and hurried after Duncan.
No way was she letting herself be robbed two times in a night.
* * *
“Hey,” Zoey suddenly asked on the walk back. “Where’s Scott?”
Scott, Duncan, and Mal were the “bad guys” of the neighborhood, the misfits. They liked going out at night and causing trouble — nothing serious or endangering, but just enough graffiti to give the police a headache.
Zoey wasn’t very fond of Scott, but if his friends liked him and they were happy, who was she to judge?
“He stayed in because he had to do a biology project.” Duncan said casually, swinging her grocery bags from side to side. On her other side, Mal was carrying her other bags.
Zoey raised a brow. “And he cares because …”
“He’s failing. He spent three hours begging Dawn to help him out.”
Zoey cringed. He must really be desperate if he went crawling to Dawn. She hated his guts more than Zoey did.
“Right…” Zoey said, because she didn’t really know where to take the conversation.
“Anyway, where’re your parents?” Duncan asks. “Should they be the ones doing grocery shopping? Or at the very least, make you do it at a decent time?”
Zoey shrugged, suddenly not in a very chatty mood. “Oh, uh, they’re on a business trip.”
Duncan narrowed his eyes. “Wait, didn’t you say that last month? What —”
Zoey cut him off. “Duncan, I’m tired. So please drop the topic or else I'll text Courtney that you were on the streets beating up thugs at two am on a final’s night.” Zoey waved the phone for emphasis.
Duncan instantly backed off at the threat of bringing Courtney in. He definitely didn’t want his on-and-off girlfriend to get on his case again (even if they were broken up now). “Okay, okay, fine. I get it, I’ll back off.”
Zoey sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
She turned to look at Mal and found his eyes already on her. They were dark and scorching, and it felt like they were burning her body apart to look into her soul. It felt like he knew every secret scrawled under her skin and was taking it apart to observe at his leisure.
Zoey looked away, her heart beating nervously as her skin tingled under his eyes. “This is my stop.” Zoey stopped walking in front of her house. “Thank you for walking me home and for carrying my bags. That was very nice of you.” Zoey sent Duncan a cheeky grin, knowing how much he disliked being called “nice”.
“Just don’t tell anyone about it,” Duncan huffed, handing her the bags. “Probably about time to start heading back anyway. Later, Zoey. See ya, Mal.” With that, Duncan turned away and walked down the street.
Leaving Zoey and Mal standing alone together on the sidewalk.
“Thanks for walking me home, Mal. I appreciate it.” Zoey held out her hand for the other grocery bag.
Mal stared at her open hand uncomprehendingly, long enough for Zoey to get uncomfortable before saying, “I’m supposed to be walking you to your house.”
“We are at my house.”
“No, we’re in front of your house,” Mal corrects.
“My house is literally right there,” Zoey stabs a finger up the front lawn. “I can carry a couple of bags across the lawn. I’ll be fine.”
But Mal just stared at her unwaveringly, so Zoey huffs and marches towards the door. Mal trails after her, and it’s only until she unlocks the front door and opens it when he gives the bags to her.
Zoey flicks on the light, already feeling unsettled by the darkness before she turns to Mal. He’s already staring at her intently, and Zoey bites her lip uncertainty. “Thank you for walking me back,” she says. “For real, this time.”
“No problem,” Mal shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking behind her to see the undeniably empty house. He turns to walk away, before he hesitates. “If you’re ever feeling lonely …” he starts, looking like he was already regretting it, “call me. I’ll always be there.”
Zoey’s face explodes in red and her mouth drops open. Mal quickly turns around and hurries away, leaving Zoey to gape after him in shock.
She closes the door before leaning against it sliding down to the floor. She buries her face in her hands, cheeks hot from her blush.
Yeah, she would call him. She did have his number after all.
She had all of theirs.
* * *
Vito (Spring)
Now, Vito has always been a massive player.
While Manitoba liked to flirt, Vito actually went out with girls. When he wasn't busy starting fights, he was chasing skirts — and while his behavior had always bothered Zoey, lately it bothered her for an entirely different reason.
That reason used to be because she hated the way Vito eyed girls like they were a piece of meat. The smug smirk he wore whenever he flirted with them made her want to punch him.
These days, it was because he flirted with girls. Period.
Not because he was a jerk about it, not because he was crude, not because he finally realized females were more than just boobs and a butt.
It was because every time she caught him winking at a girl or talking her up, it sent her blood spiking. Zoey would find herself gritting her teeth and clenching her fists and she didn't know why.
(Well, she did know why. She just didn't like it, so she ignored it.)
But the fact remained that something had changed, and it was aggravating the life out of her.
Despite everything, Zoey had resolved to simply ignore it. Whatever had happened to her would fade over time, and Vito was his own person (well … sort of. As much as he could be with five others in his brain). He was allowed to make out with whoever he wanted to.
Zoey also knew she was a major people’s pleaser and the type to obsess over every single detail — so she stuck to the mindset of ignoring Vito as well.
And it served her well, until one day after art club she rounded the corner and nearly crashed into Vito, who was currently sucking face with Anne Maria.
Zoey gasped and skidded to a halt. For a moment she simply stood there, gaping. Her feet were glued to the floor and her heart was pounding rapidly.
Zoey clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm to clear her head. Zoey could feel a powerful emotion bubbling up and she bit her tongue.
What was Vito doing here? Football practice was over, he should have driven home by now. If he wanted to make out with Anne Maria then he should have done it under the bleachers — unless it was occupied by Geoff and Bridgette again. But why would he bring her here? He knew this was the path she always took to get to the bus —
Zoey suddenly stopped at the thought.
She watched as Vito pulled away and noticed Zoey staring at them in shock. For a moment their eyes met, holding a connection as they looked at each other.
Then Vito had the audacity to smirk at her, mouth pulling up in a cocky smile. His hands rested on Anne Maria’s hips and Zoey’s blood boiled.
She wanted to punch him. She wanted to punch him so bad, and she wanted to rip Anne Maria off him and yell and yell and yell until he made her shut up. But she knew what Vito would look like if she did that and Zoey would rather die than give him the satisfaction.
So instead Zoey clenched her fists, scoffed in annoyance, and brushed right past them with her head held high.
Zoey was jealous. Vito didn’t need to know that.
* * *
Chester (Winter)
Zoey was late, and she was dying.
The girl flies by pedestrians, red hair blowing out behind her as she runs down the sidewalk in a full sprint. Her legs burned and her lungs ached as she took heaving breaths of cold air.
It was one of those days in Canada where the air was so frigid it literally hurt to breathe, but the clouds still stubbornly clung to the snow that would fall later. She was late to her shift at work — too busy studying for classes after school — and had missed her bus, leaving her to wait for the second one impatiently.
Zoey burst into the shop. “I’m here!” She announced grandly.
Gwen looked up mid page-turn from her book at the register, observing the disarray that was Zoey. “You’re late,” she raised a judgemental brow.
“I know, sorry. I was just so caught up with school I lost track of time.” Zoey sighs, taking off her coat. Things would be so much easier for her if she had a ride … unfortunately, she and her ride had had a falling out a while ago and she doubted they would want to talk to her anytime soon.
Shaking off the negative thoughts, Zoey falls into the routine of getting ready. She worked at a small vintage shop that was tucked into the corner of the block for decades. Gwen had introduced it to her, and she had fallen in love with the still, older vibe of the place. Zoey was naturally attracted to older aesthetics, so it made sense that she fit in here.
Gwen and Zoey worked in tandem, attending to customers and working the register until people came in fewer and fewer. After a few hours, Zoey took a breath, checking her phone. Evening had come early, the sky turning a gorgeous shade of midnight blue outside.
Gwen reappeared from the back, bundled in a beanie and scarf. “I’m going to head out early. You okay with closing?”
Zoey smiled. “Of course,” she said, waving off Gwen’s guilty eyes. “Go have fun with Trent. I’ll see you at school.”
Gwen turned crimson, said a quick goodbye, then ran out the shop to the car parked outside at the curb. She slammed the door shut, and Zoey caught a quick glimpse of Trent waving at her before they took off.
Zoey sighed and started to close up. She was glad Gwen and Trent were back together after the rocky hardships that had actually led them to breaking up for a little bit. She wasn’t sure about the details of it — some jealousies and lack of communication — but she knew for sure that Gwen had found it hard to deal with her boyfriend's OCD, and struggled to manage it. She had confessed to Zoey about it, how she struggled to keep a normal relationship with Trent when his mental disorder was constantly interfering.
Gwen had come to her about that, asking for her advice about how to have a partner and manage their mental health, and Zoey had given it, feeling like a total hypocrite in the process.
The ding of the doorbell interrupts her thoughts, and Zoey looks up with an automatic smile to treat the last customer of the day before she freezes as she recognizes the person walking through the door.
Chester.
The alter shakes out his coat, wiping snow with a decisive sort of disdain off his cane. He looks up, takes note of Zoey’s unflattering stunned expression, and says, “Are you goin’ to be sittin’ there starin’ till my bones drop off or are you goin’ to make me some tea?”
Snapping out of it, Zoey blushes, rushing to make the drink under Chester's freezing glare. She sets down the pot, pouring the liquid into the cup as Chester grumbles before sitting down awkwardly.
“So,” Zoey manages to get her voice not to squeak. “How have you been, Chester?”
“Like you care,” Chester says gruffly and takes a sip of his tea. Perfect, just how it's always been. He and Zoey always had the same taste.
“I do care, that’s why I asked,” Zoey responds patiently. Without realizing it, her tone slips into the familiar, soothing, serenade that usually came out whenever Chester made a mean comment. “Just because we haven’t spoken in a while doesn’t mean I don’t wonder how you or everyone else is.”
Chester eyes her suspiciously, and Zoey finds herself randomly struck with how she sees him as Chester, and not Mike. To anyone else, it would look like a teenage boy was acting like an old man, but that wasn’t it. Chester hunched in on himself, and had crooked fingers that always itched for his cane; he subconsciously squinted in one eye and spoke with an inflection that Zoey never knew came from. Mike was the total opposite — he walked straight, but with a small slump in his spine as if to make himself less taller; he used enthusiastic hand motions and spoke loudly when excited. He didn't even like tea like Chester — he preferred juice.
“I’m as fine as these old bones can be in this weather,” Chester says after a moment.
“I see,” Zoey smiles. “You should stay inside and keep warm — what will happen if you slip and fall?” Even if Mike’s body was still young and strong, he had Chester’s psychology — so if he fell, he’d be in immense pain because he believed he had the bones of an old man and wouldn’t be able to get up on his own because of the psychological limits in Chester’s own mind.
“ ’s not like I meant to come out on my own,” Chester scowls. “The boy was already frustrated before that darn hooligan ran the red light while we were crossing. Nearly hit us too, that no good son of a —”
“You’re walking in this weather?” Zoey interrupts before he can go on his tirade. “What about your car?” Mike’s parents had bought him a car in the middle of autumn for passing his drivers test, a beat-up old thing. But still, Mike loved it, and the rest of his alters did too, taking it and driving it around to all their individual appointments.
It had been a fight for Mike to get his license — officials were too worried about him disassociating and switching out while he was driving — but thanks to his psychiatrist’s approval and his adopted parents pushing, he was finally able to get it. She can still remember how proudly Mike's eyes had shone when he first showed her his ID.
“Parents took it away,” Chester grunted. “He was switchin’ out with the rest of us too much.”
“Oh,” Zoey’s mouth felt dry. “I —”
“He's a mess without you, you know. They all are, those stupid young fools. But you should know, with what you said before.”
Zoey feels the words hit, like a sucker-punch to the gut. Her mind flashes back to the time when she asked Mike out. She had worn her favorite red halter top, with wildflower sticker tattoos stamped up her arm as she had rubbed it shyly. She had been so nervous; it had felt like the nerves her belly had turned into a livewire full of electric butterflies.
The words she’d said to him came back to her when he asked why she liked him.
"It's just that … the sort of mess you are ... has always felt like the sort of mess I am.”
How cruel of Chester to bring that up so suddenly. But then again, Chester never really had a problem with being cruel when he wanted to get his words across. Zoey found herself momentarily at a loss of words, stomach flipping in guilt. “That’s not … I didn’t …” What was she supposed to say? Sorry? As great at apologizing as she was, that felt too insensitive to say.
She was self-aware enough to know that she couldn’t keep her friendship with Mike, not after how much she’d hurt him. Maybe if they talked more, if she’d been more commutative …
The familiar sting of tears building up mortifies Zoey and she hides her face behind her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. That only makes it worse as the pressure causes a few wayward drops to slip out. God no, she wouldn’t cry in front of Chester, she wouldn’t …
Zoey waits for the sound of disgust that should be coming from him, a grumble about how sentimental young people were, but —
Something soft touches her cheek and she looks up to see Chester avoiding her eyes, holding out a handkerchief. She sniffles, taking it from his hand and unceremoniously scrubbing her eyes as hard as she can.
“You want to help everyone. You're too sweet to be alone,” Chester says gruffly. “Too dependent on others. You’d save a houseplant if you thought it could be your friend.”
Zoey lets out a choked laugh, not sure if she should be amused or offended at the words. “I just — I thought I'd get over it by now. We weren't even together that long anyways.”
Chester stared at her. “Why do ya still miss him? You’re the one that left.”
Zoey stares down into her cup, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Sometimes you don't get a choice. You think about someone ... a lot.” After she broke up with Mike, she had hoped that that would be the last of it. That he would fade into the background of all the other students, and that the only thing left would be a bittersweet memory.
But no. He still lingers, in her heart and in her mind. He was a bolt out of the blue, and a catastrophe that shakes her to the core. She could go about her day just like any other, and like a habit, she'd think of him.
“That’s what happens when ya give up on somethin’ ya care about. You grieve it just as much as you loved it.”
Zoey glances up at Chester before looking away again.
“What do I do now?” She whispers.
Chester takes a sip of his tea. “Ya know what you did wrong. Ya know what ya wanna change. The only thing that you can do now is try to be better next time around.”
Zoey blinks, the bowstring tightness drawn around her shoulders loosening at his words. She gazes into the mug like it holds all the answers, thoughts swirling around her head like a whirlwind. The fears and insecurities still weighed in her consciousness but now — although tentative — resolve was there as well.
She took a sip of her tea as well, chamomile lingering on her tongue. She could still try.
She wanted to try.
* * *
Svetlana (Winter)
Zoey watches on the sidelines as Svetlana dances on the ice, lost in her own music. The scrapes of ice against her blades are the only sound in the rink. It's completely empty, which she felt fortunate for because now Svetlana can completely focus on her routine while Zoey sits on the sidelines.
Svetlana skates by again, arms moving like the wind, somehow making the most complicated movements look like the easiest thing in the world.
She was intricately beautiful, and Zoey can’t take her eyes off her. Even with all the inner turmoil in her head, she can’t help but stop and stare at her. She knew this place — here, on the ice rink — was where Svetlana belonged. Skating was her passion, and the movements of the dance were her religion. The air rushing by her ears could clear her head more than any words can, and Zoey knows that she is the reason why Svetlana is out on the ice.
The cold bites her fingers numb and brings a rosy color to her cheeks, stinging like a slap. Zoey didn’t bring gloves with her, a self-inflicting punishment for what is to come. If this was, perhaps, a month ago, she would have been out on the ice with her, sliding on her skates and trying to catch up to Svetlana. Laughter would be echoing throughout the rink as she kept on slipping, not the void of silence now between them.
She couldn't do it anymore.
She could feel her mind fracturing the more she was stretched thin.
She was just so tired. She couldn't handle it. Dating five personalities, each with their own individual traumas, was too much. The stress, the insecurities, the fears were piling up and she just wanted a break.
She thinks (or hopes, maybe) that the others can sense it — her pulling away. It was cowardly, but she hoped that they would willingly drift off into the sea of faces in the school so that Zoey wouldn’t be able to say anything at all.
Svetlana dances across the ice, blissfully lost in her own winter wonderland and slows to a stop. She opens her eyes and catches Zoey’s. She isn’t quite sure what look reads in her gaze, but Svetlana doesn’t skate forward and close the seemingly sudden large gap between them.
Zoey was gonna break her heart. Take the fragile organ that all of the alters held so dear and shatter it into a million pieces.
* * *
Manitoba (Fall)
Manitoba pulled her along by her hand, dragging her to wherever he was taking her. She honestly had no clue. Mike had switched when he was in gym class, and the now-present Manitoba Smith had promptly ditched and went to seek Zoey out, even though she was in a different class at the time.
It had been … an experience to find out about Mike’s alters. She had known that he had some sort of disorder, because he always seemed to have a pink slip note of visiting the counselor’s office. It wasn’t until Mike had told her about his Multiple Personality Disorder —or Dissociative Identity Disorder, as Cameron often corrected— and Cameron had explained what it was when she suddenly understood.
Apparently, back at his old school, Mike had been severely bullied for his disorder and was often called a freak. Monster. Jekyll and Hyde. It had enraged Zoey beyond reason. She herself had been picked on for being different back in her old town, and she knew how much words could hurt.
When he came here, Mike’s plan of laying low was shot when he saw Duncan, who recognized him when they were in juvie, and from Scott, who had wrangled the truth from Cameron with slightly unethical means. Because it was a small school, the information traveled around the grapevine. Nobody batted an eye. Wawanaka High, if nothing else, was filled with eccentric people.
Mike had explained that he didn’t tell her about his personalities sooner because he was afraid she would think he was a freak, but Zoey had simply laughed and told him how much she loved oddballs. But secretly, she was nervous. She had no idea on how to handle his alters, or his trauma that sometimes arose at the most random things. It had been weird, and scary, and confusing, to see the boy she liked (like … really liked), acting like someone else entirely. His posture, his voice, his entire attitude did a complete turn around, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
“Why are you dragging me out of class?” Zoey complains. “We have midterms coming up, and—”
“You’re focusing on the wrong things, treasure!” Manitoba laughs. Zoey trips at the nickname. “You only live once! Why not make this one worth living with adventure!”
Easy for him to say. Mike was the only one who had to focus on school grades and studying. All the others were there for fun.
Manitoba leads them up the stairs to the roof and Zoey withdraws when she sees the Emergency Exit plastered on the doorway.
“Wait, what are you doing?!”
“Huh?”
“You’ll set off the fire alarm!”
Manitoba laughs like she’s said something cute. He opens the doorway to the rooftop and Zoey holds her breath, waiting for the alarms to start. When there is nothing, she lets it out almost disappointedly. A dud.
Manitoba doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk onto the roof and Zoey doesn’t pull away either as she looks around. So this is where Manitoba went whenever Mike switched out with him. Since Mike had a full-time pass to the counselor’s, he was technically obligated to go there whenever he felt like he was about to dissociate, but he and the others never did. She knows that for a fact because the other alters have been caught trying to leave school (Vito and Manitoba mostly) and now Zoey finally knows where one of them disappears.
Zoey can’t help but stare at him while his back is towards her.
She liked to keep busy. Needed to, really, because then she can ignore the persistent loneliness that ached whenever she was alone in a house that was too big for only her. So she made friends, joined clubs, and studied hard. She took it as a challenge when Cameron had asked if she would date any of the alters since she was dating Mike. If her boyfriend had more parts of himself then she wanted to know them as well.
And she liked them, too. Zoey didn’t doubt that before long she would like them just as much as she liked Mike. Svetlana had a beautiful soul and Zoey loved spending time with her. Manitoba was wild but captivating and she could feel herself getting used to him as well. Vito was coming around as well, taking her on drives whenever possible. She was slowly finding the gaps in Chester’s prickly nature and she remained a polite distance with the ever-elusive Mal.
There were doubts, perhaps, that she had been too hopeful. Not that she would ever think Mike a freak, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she had bitten off more than she could chew. If she was truly the right person to handle this. Zoey had her own problems and insecurities, and she could admit that she was prone to keeping it in due to her upbringing — unlike Mike, who knew how to communicate thanks to his training with his therapist.
“You get quiet when you’re stressed.”
She blinks, broken out of her thoughts due to Manitoba’s casual remark.
“Sorry,” she said. “I think more in my head than aloud.”
“I know, love.”
Zoey is glad Manitoba doesn’t comment on the small jerk she makes at his nickname and her furious blush. It was still embarrassing to get used to the others’ affection.
“Now, get on the ledge, Sheila.”
Zoey raises a brow.
Manitoba’s mouth curved into a smirk. “’Course, if you’re feeling afraid I’ll have no problem holding onto a beautiful—”
Maybe it was because of the thought of Manitoba thinking that she was weak or too afraid or boring to do it, but before she thought about it she grabbed onto the metal bars separating her from the ledge and leaped over them. Her converse hit the other side and Zoey spun around to face open air. The wind wasn’t too bad, but if she let go of the bar it would only take a push to send her careening to her death.
Zoey glanced over her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. “You were saying?”
Manitoba gazed at her, none of his usual cockiness in his eyes. “Look.”
She's never had a fear of heights, so she isn't afraid when she stares down at the world. Trees dappled with red, orange, and gold leaves lined the block of houses they adorned. The cars looked like toys on the winding road, the people so small they looked like ants. She hears Manitoba jump on the ledge to join her but doesn't turn her head.
“Wrong place, Shiela.”
“What?” Zoey asks. She turns to look at Manitoba only to see him watching her already.
“You’re looking in the wrong place.”
Without any further comment, he takes her chin and gently lifts it up so her gaze shifts upwards. Away from the town and to the world beyond that. Midnight-colored lakes, rolling plains, and forests stretching as far as the eye can see. And even farther, mountains peaking towards the blue sky, desperate to touch the clouds.
The air rushed out of her in her next breath.
And suddenly, Zoey understood what Manitoba was trying to make her get. There was a whole world out there. A whole country, and whole continent, even, and Zoey was still lost in her head. Her problems seemed like nothing in the grand scheme of things, and Zoey was just letting her life pass her by because she let them consume her.
She stands on the edge of the rooftop. Wind brushes along her skin, causing goosebumps to rise along her arm, but Zoey doesn’t say anything. She didn’t bring her jacket, and Manitoba wasn’t wearing one either. Even if he was, she doubted she would ask for it. She stands on the ledge, making no move to shield herself from the wind and looks at the Canadian wilderness in front of them.
She tips her head back and closes her eyes, the wind making the loose strands of her hair fly around her. Her feet felt rooted to her place, but she imagines herself as free as a bird. She could taste the tantalizing weight of wilderness on her tongue and wants.
So Zoey stands, and stares, and breathes.
* * *
Mike (Fall)
Zoey walked into her last class of the day, Chemistry. It had taken her a while to find the classroom, so most of the tables were filled up. She spotted Lightning in the back showing off with Cody staring up with adoring eyes. Noah was on the other side of the class, rolling his eyes at the antics before burying his nose in his book.
Apprehension pooled her gut. She didn’t know who to sit by and barely knew anyone. The class was mainly filled with seniors she only knew by name with only a handful of juniors she had never spoken to.
Zoey feels sick. She wants to walk right out. Why was her social anxiety starting to act up now?
She spots a boy sitting with a table to himself, a giant bookbag next to him. He’s hunched over, like he wasn’t used to the open air around him, and is wearing thick glasses and a giant red hoodie that hide nothing with how scrawny he is. Zoey is surprised to see him have such a big bag, seeing as how the boy is basically twigs it looks like even the weight of a butterfly could knock him over.
He seemed like the safest bet to sit next to.
Zoey walks towards the small boy — anxiety trembling in her bones — and gives him a nice smile, trying to appear more confident than she truely was.
“Hi!” She greets cheerfully. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
The boy jolts so hard that he nearly topples to the floor. “Oh! Yeah, sure! No problem!” He eagerly swipes all his belongings off the side of the table to make room for her.
“Thanks,” she says, taking a seat. Continue the conversation, ask questions rings in her head from all the How-To-Make-Friends podcasts she had obsessively listened to over the summer. “I don't think I've ever seen you around before. Are you a freshman?”
The boy lights up, and soon he is talking a mile a minute. His name is Cameron, and he's sixteen like her — which surprised her, given his small stature — but this is his first year of attending Wawanakwa High after being homeschooled all his life. Apparently his mother was obsessively overprotective of her only son and as a result, Cameron was what was known as a “bubble boy”. He was sweet though, and eager, even though he lacked any real world experience he was quite knowledgeable in academics.
By the time Cameron kindly offers her some hand sanitizer, Zoey is estatic to find that she has made her first real friend of the year.
Their conversation comes to a natural lull and Zoey busies herself organizing her backpack and pulling out the notebook she will need for the class.
Officially, chemistry should have already started, but none of the seniors pause in their continuous chatter and after waiting for another awkward couple of minutes, Cameron turns and asks a senior, Courtney, where the teacher was. The honors student makes a face, nose wrinkling in a way that makes her freckles scrunch cutely and responds, “Our teacher is Blainely. She never shows up to class on time, no matter how much Principal McLean complains.”
A desk over, a girl named Heather with beautiful, glossy long hair, scoffs in a way that shows her just how much she’s a fan of their teacher and goes back to filing her nails. Zoey wants to compliment her on her hair, but something primal very deep inside of her tells her that any word spoken to her would be met with a nasty comment on her hair.
She goes back to doodling on her own notebook before all of the sudden the door slams open and a harried teen rushes in. He’s holding a pink slip that meant he was coming from the office, and after seeing that the teacher is nowhere in sight, looks for a table.
He lights up as he sees the only open seat on Cameron’s other side and hurries towards it, practically dumping all his belongings on the table as he collapses in his seat.
“Hey,” he says, running his fingers through his spiky hair. “Did class start yet?”
Cameron shook his head no.
“Really? But didn’t class start like —” he glances at the clock, “— ten minutes ago?”
“Well, our teacher for this class is Ms. Blainely, and I heard she doesn't care about tardiness because she's always late.” Zoey reports back what Courtney said to her.
“Can’t see why,” the boy responds flippantly. “We’re as pleasant as all the teachers in the school.”
Zoey feels her cheeks pull up in a grin and she giggles. “Nice to meet you. I’m —”
Blainely slams through the door of her classroom like a typhoon of bravado and too-much confidence for a teacher who was late to her own class by ten minutes. “Alright, you little brats, it’s time for Chemistry!” She sing-songs.
There’s a thunk from behind of Bridgette slamming her head into her table and her deskmate Lindsay sympathetically pats her on the back. A few tables over, Heather fake gags.
Blainely, in her true, characteristic nonchalant fashion, tells them to have at it in mixing the chemicals after barely skimming the safety protocols and handing out labs.
Her, Cameron, and their new teammate work in tandem together, like they’re a well-oiled machine. He cracks jokes with Cameron and laughs with Zoey, and she feels her cheeks getting sore with how much she's grinning.
She hasn't had this much fun in a long time. Their new teammate is charismatic. And cute. And nice. Zoey didn’t really have a type, but if she did …
Well. It would probably be him.
From over Cameron’s head where he’s chattering, Zoey chances a peek at the boy to see him already watching her. Her heart leaps in surprise and she can’t help but stare at him even after he quickly glances away. Does she have pen ink on her face? It wouldn’t be the first time. Zoey opens her mouth to ask, but before she could —
The bell rings.
The students stir and begin packing their bags with vigor, chatter filling the air as the last class of the day is finished. Cameron bids them goodbye and leaves quickly, and Zoey waves as he practically sprints towards the door, saying something about his mom picking him up.
She spots the boy beginning to pack his bag with the new chemistry papers and realizes amongst all the fun they had together, she has yet to learn his name.
“Hey,” Zoey smiles over the space at the boy. “My name is Zoey.”
The boy blinks, then gives her this big, beautiful, beaming grin that seemed to light up his entire face. Zoey feels her heart skip a beat, then trip and stumble and crash against her ribcage at the sight of it. Oh boy.
“I'm … Mike.”
* * *
Imagine having so many boyfriends , yet none of them live
Ripper in my IOTS au:
Helluva boss x total drama
But there hellborn demons
Explain bellow :
Ok so this crossover came out of nowhere for me, since i'm not a big fan of helluva boss/hazbin hotel. It's happens because I keep seeing all these hh x td were total drama character are hazbin hotel character and etc. And even though it's cool and all, I just think it gets a tad bit boring and repetitive especially with who they paired them as (please don't kill me, this is my opinion). So i thought it be cool to see them as hellborn native, and I haven't seen anyone do this yet.
So for now have gen 1 as different species of hell
Ezekiel : imp
Eva : imp
Noah : hellhound
Justin : succubus
Katie : succubus
Sadie : imp
Tyler : hybrid (hellhound/baphomet)
Cody : imp
Beth : imp
Courtney : hybrid (hellhound/imp)
Harold : hybrid (imp/baphomet)
Trent : hybrid (imp/possessor)
Bridgette : possessor
Lindsay : succubus
DJ : baphomet
Izzy : shark demon
Geoff : hellhound
Leshawna : hybrid (succubus/imp)
Duncan : hybrid (imp/shark demon)
Heather : succubus
Gwen : hybrid (succubus/baphomet)
Owen : hybrid (hellhound/imp)
Sierra : imp
Alejandro : hybrid (sharks demon/possessor)
And btw the hosts are sinners with Chris being an overlord.
You can use these for fanart and such, but please credit me.
im abt to cry on the bus to school bc of a mikesys x zoey fic QJSHJSHRISHDJGJNCJOEOEKWJAKADJ 9/10
High School Zoke
I’ve had this request since 2022 and had half done for more than a year now. Sorry it took so long! 😭
*♥️*🩵*
Mal (Spring)
Zoey unlocked the door to her place, purposefully making more noise than necessary as she closed the door and placed all her belongings on the table.
“I’m back!” She called out.
The empty house said nothing back and Zoey sighed, heart sinking. She didn’t know what she was expecting, to be honest. Her house was always empty, always silent, always dark. Normally, that would be any teenager's dream, but Zoey had always felt constricted when she was alone — like she was one tug away from panicking.
Separation anxiety, is what Courtney would call it. Neglect.
Zoey the Lonely, is what the elementary school kids called her.
It wasn’t like Zoey’s parents were bad or anything like that. They were just … never around. They were busy with work and away on trips often, which was fine because they were making money and putting a roof over her head. So Zoey didn’t say anything when they didn’t call her and she always smiled when the neighbors asked how her parents were and if she was fine …
Zoey shook her head out of the thoughts she wandered in. She had friends — close friends, better than anything she could have asked for — and that was enough.
Zoey walked over to the fridge and opened it — only to find absolutely nothing at all. Zoey quickly began looking through the shelves in the pantry and resisted the urge to sigh.
Right, she was supposed to go grocery shopping like, a week ago, curse finals for making her forget —
Zoey grabbed her wallet, keys, and phone and walked out of the house even though it was midnight.
Anything was better than being alone in an empty house.
* * *
Zoey is a sixteen year old girl walking home alone late at night, and apparently that’s some sort of welcome mat to get mugged.
Her credit card is weeping from the amount of things she’s bought but the food will last her a while so she doesn’t have to go shopping again. Zoey’s in good spirits as she crosses the street.
Normally, she would take the buses, but she doesn’t want to wait around outside when it’s one am and she has school tomorrow — well, today. She's also relaxed enough for the first time in about three months to let her guard down a bit, so it's a real shame that she immediately gets jumped by thugs the moment she does.
Zoey shrieks when a heavy hand covers her mouth and she gets dragged into an alleyway. Her back slams into a wall behind her, and Zoey counts three big, dark, intimidating thugs in front of her.
"Hands up, sweetheart, nice and easy," the biggest guy says, waving his gun at her.
Ice-cold fear shot in her veins and she instinctively reached for her pepper spray. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt empty space. She forgot it!
"He said hands up, kid!" the second guy barks at her, his own gun leveling out somewhere wildly above Zoey’s shoulder.
Zoey flinches. Great, not only would she be killed by thugs, she would be killed by amateur thugs. With the way they were holding the guns, she would most likely be shot by their own carelessness rather than actual intention.
"We don't want any trouble, just your money."
Zoey bit back a retort. Yeah, because teenagers just happen to be real millionaires. Who's even teaching these guys how to pick targets —
The thugs move forward, and Zoey cuts off her inner dialogue. Adrenaline races through her veins and her hands tremble at her sides. Just as she tries to summon her voice to call for help, or to desperately use one of Courtney’s self-defense lessons —
“Hey.”
All four of them jump, and the three thugs turn around to see two figures. Zoey couldn’t make out their facial features in the dark, but one was short and stocky while the other was tall and lanky.
The short one took a menacing step forward. “Leave the girl alone, and I promise we’ll leave you with your teeth intact.”
The thugs laugh. “Oh yeah? Last I checked, there’s three of us, and two of you. And we have guns.”
The tall one walks forward, and the thugs gasp. From her place Zoey can’t see who he is, but it makes the thugs tremble.
“B-boss … it’s the Malevolent One! And … the short mohawked green punk!”
Short mohawked green punk? That sounded like someone she knew, but who was the Malevolent One?
Caught up in her musings, Zoey almost didn’t notice the conversation going on.
"Hey kid, we said — hey, stop that creepy grinning, we're pointing a gun at you — "
Duncan just grins wider, cracks his knuckles, and throws himself into a fight.
Zoey screams as Duncan tackles the thug that called him short and gleefully begins going to town on him. The Malevolent One moves like a shadow, knocking the gun from the thug leader and sending him unconscious.
Slowly, they both turn to look at the last thug standing.
The thug’s face loses all its color and he jumps back in terror, screaming as he drops his gun in his haste to escape.
Zoey is frozen, gasping hard as her knees tremble. The two took on three armed thugs and managed to escape with only bruised knuckles.
Zoey’s legs suddenly give out.
“Hey, Zo, are you okay?” A hand is placed on her shoulder, and Zoey looks up to see Duncan staring down at her.
Zoey can’t help but smile. Duncan liked to put up this bad-boy image to make him seem tough, but secretly he had a soft heart. Zoey was glad to be one of the few to see it.
“Yeah, I — um, yeah. Just in shock. No need to worry about me.”
Duncan offers a hand to help her up, handing her the groceries in the process. Zoey shakily stands up, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Duncan.”
She looks at the other guy, whose figure was hiding in the shadows. “Thanks …” she trails off hesitantly.
He steps into the light and her heart stops. Mike, is her first thought. The tall, lanky body, the skin color, the face. Then she looks closer — the frown on his lips, the dark look on his face, the hair covering his eye.
“Mal,” Zoey says. Her throat suddenly feels extremely dry and she resists the urge to swallow.
“Zoey,” he responded neutrally.
Duncan looks back and forth, obviously picking up the strange air between them. “So, are you headed home?” He asked. Zoey and Mal both broke off the weird trance they found themselves in from staring at each other.
“Yeah,” Zoey nodded. “I was just walking back.”
Duncan takes the grocery bags and turns away. “Come on, we’ll walk with you! Don’t want you to get mugged again, do we?”
Zoey exchanged a bewildered look with Mal, but when he merely raised a brow she quickly flushed and hurried after Duncan.
No way was she letting herself be robbed two times in a night.
* * *
“Hey,” Zoey suddenly asked on the walk back. “Where’s Scott?”
Scott, Duncan, and Mal were the “bad guys” of the neighborhood, the misfits. They liked going out at night and causing trouble — nothing serious or endangering, but just enough graffiti to give the police a headache.
Zoey wasn’t very fond of Scott, but if his friends liked him and they were happy, who was she to judge?
“He stayed in because he had to do a biology project.” Duncan said casually, swinging her grocery bags from side to side. On her other side, Mal was carrying her other bags.
Zoey raised a brow. “And he cares because …”
“He’s failing. He spent three hours begging Dawn to help him out.”
Zoey cringed. He must really be desperate if he went crawling to Dawn. She hated his guts more than Zoey did.
“Right…” Zoey said, because she didn’t really know where to take the conversation.
“Anyway, where’re your parents?” Duncan asks. “Should they be the ones doing grocery shopping? Or at the very least, make you do it at a decent time?”
Zoey shrugged, suddenly not in a very chatty mood. “Oh, uh, they’re on a business trip.”
Duncan narrowed his eyes. “Wait, didn’t you say that last month? What —”
Zoey cut him off. “Duncan, I’m tired. So please drop the topic or else I'll text Courtney that you were on the streets beating up thugs at two am on a final’s night.” Zoey waved the phone for emphasis.
Duncan instantly backed off at the threat of bringing Courtney in. He definitely didn’t want his on-and-off girlfriend to get on his case again (even if they were broken up now). “Okay, okay, fine. I get it, I’ll back off.”
Zoey sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
She turned to look at Mal and found his eyes already on her. They were dark and scorching, and it felt like they were burning her body apart to look into her soul. It felt like he knew every secret scrawled under her skin and was taking it apart to observe at his leisure.
Zoey looked away, her heart beating nervously as her skin tingled under his eyes. “This is my stop.” Zoey stopped walking in front of her house. “Thank you for walking me home and for carrying my bags. That was very nice of you.” Zoey sent Duncan a cheeky grin, knowing how much he disliked being called “nice”.
“Just don’t tell anyone about it,” Duncan huffed, handing her the bags. “Probably about time to start heading back anyway. Later, Zoey. See ya, Mal.” With that, Duncan turned away and walked down the street.
Leaving Zoey and Mal standing alone together on the sidewalk.
“Thanks for walking me home, Mal. I appreciate it.” Zoey held out her hand for the other grocery bag.
Mal stared at her open hand uncomprehendingly, long enough for Zoey to get uncomfortable before saying, “I’m supposed to be walking you to your house.”
“We are at my house.”
“No, we’re in front of your house,” Mal corrects.
“My house is literally right there,” Zoey stabs a finger up the front lawn. “I can carry a couple of bags across the lawn. I’ll be fine.”
But Mal just stared at her unwaveringly, so Zoey huffs and marches towards the door. Mal trails after her, and it’s only until she unlocks the front door and opens it when he gives the bags to her.
Zoey flicks on the light, already feeling unsettled by the darkness before she turns to Mal. He’s already staring at her intently, and Zoey bites her lip uncertainty. “Thank you for walking me back,” she says. “For real, this time.”
“No problem,” Mal shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking behind her to see the undeniably empty house. He turns to walk away, before he hesitates. “If you’re ever feeling lonely …” he starts, looking like he was already regretting it, “call me. I’ll always be there.”
Zoey’s face explodes in red and her mouth drops open. Mal quickly turns around and hurries away, leaving Zoey to gape after him in shock.
She closes the door before leaning against it sliding down to the floor. She buries her face in her hands, cheeks hot from her blush.
Yeah, she would call him. She did have his number after all.
She had all of theirs.
* * *
Vito (Spring)
Now, Vito has always been a massive player.
While Manitoba liked to flirt, Vito actually went out with girls. When he wasn't busy starting fights, he was chasing skirts — and while his behavior had always bothered Zoey, lately it bothered her for an entirely different reason.
That reason used to be because she hated the way Vito eyed girls like they were a piece of meat. The smug smirk he wore whenever he flirted with them made her want to punch him.
These days, it was because he flirted with girls. Period.
Not because he was a jerk about it, not because he was crude, not because he finally realized females were more than just boobs and a butt.
It was because every time she caught him winking at a girl or talking her up, it sent her blood spiking. Zoey would find herself gritting her teeth and clenching her fists and she didn't know why.
(Well, she did know why. She just didn't like it, so she ignored it.)
But the fact remained that something had changed, and it was aggravating the life out of her.
Despite everything, Zoey had resolved to simply ignore it. Whatever had happened to her would fade over time, and Vito was his own person (well … sort of. As much as he could be with five others in his brain). He was allowed to make out with whoever he wanted to.
Zoey also knew she was a major people’s pleaser and the type to obsess over every single detail — so she stuck to the mindset of ignoring Vito as well.
And it served her well, until one day after art club she rounded the corner and nearly crashed into Vito, who was currently sucking face with Anne Maria.
Zoey gasped and skidded to a halt. For a moment she simply stood there, gaping. Her feet were glued to the floor and her heart was pounding rapidly.
Zoey clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm to clear her head. Zoey could feel a powerful emotion bubbling up and she bit her tongue.
What was Vito doing here? Football practice was over, he should have driven home by now. If he wanted to make out with Anne Maria then he should have done it under the bleachers — unless it was occupied by Geoff and Bridgette again. But why would he bring her here? He knew this was the path she always took to get to the bus —
Zoey suddenly stopped at the thought.
She watched as Vito pulled away and noticed Zoey staring at them in shock. For a moment their eyes met, holding a connection as they looked at each other.
Then Vito had the audacity to smirk at her, mouth pulling up in a cocky smile. His hands rested on Anne Maria’s hips and Zoey’s blood boiled.
She wanted to punch him. She wanted to punch him so bad, and she wanted to rip Anne Maria off him and yell and yell and yell until he made her shut up. But she knew what Vito would look like if she did that and Zoey would rather die than give him the satisfaction.
So instead Zoey clenched her fists, scoffed in annoyance, and brushed right past them with her head held high.
Zoey was jealous. Vito didn’t need to know that.
* * *
Chester (Winter)
Zoey was late, and she was dying.
The girl flies by pedestrians, red hair blowing out behind her as she runs down the sidewalk in a full sprint. Her legs burned and her lungs ached as she took heaving breaths of cold air.
It was one of those days in Canada where the air was so frigid it literally hurt to breathe, but the clouds still stubbornly clung to the snow that would fall later. She was late to her shift at work — too busy studying for classes after school — and had missed her bus, leaving her to wait for the second one impatiently.
Zoey burst into the shop. “I’m here!” She announced grandly.
Gwen looked up mid page-turn from her book at the register, observing the disarray that was Zoey. “You’re late,” she raised a judgemental brow.
“I know, sorry. I was just so caught up with school I lost track of time.” Zoey sighs, taking off her coat. Things would be so much easier for her if she had a ride … unfortunately, she and her ride had had a falling out a while ago and she doubted they would want to talk to her anytime soon.
Shaking off the negative thoughts, Zoey falls into the routine of getting ready. She worked at a small vintage shop that was tucked into the corner of the block for decades. Gwen had introduced it to her, and she had fallen in love with the still, older vibe of the place. Zoey was naturally attracted to older aesthetics, so it made sense that she fit in here.
Gwen and Zoey worked in tandem, attending to customers and working the register until people came in fewer and fewer. After a few hours, Zoey took a breath, checking her phone. Evening had come early, the sky turning a gorgeous shade of midnight blue outside.
Gwen reappeared from the back, bundled in a beanie and scarf. “I’m going to head out early. You okay with closing?”
Zoey smiled. “Of course,” she said, waving off Gwen’s guilty eyes. “Go have fun with Trent. I’ll see you at school.”
Gwen turned crimson, said a quick goodbye, then ran out the shop to the car parked outside at the curb. She slammed the door shut, and Zoey caught a quick glimpse of Trent waving at her before they took off.
Zoey sighed and started to close up. She was glad Gwen and Trent were back together after the rocky hardships that had actually led them to breaking up for a little bit. She wasn’t sure about the details of it — some jealousies and lack of communication — but she knew for sure that Gwen had found it hard to deal with her boyfriend's OCD, and struggled to manage it. She had confessed to Zoey about it, how she struggled to keep a normal relationship with Trent when his mental disorder was constantly interfering.
Gwen had come to her about that, asking for her advice about how to have a partner and manage their mental health, and Zoey had given it, feeling like a total hypocrite in the process.
The ding of the doorbell interrupts her thoughts, and Zoey looks up with an automatic smile to treat the last customer of the day before she freezes as she recognizes the person walking through the door.
Chester.
The alter shakes out his coat, wiping snow with a decisive sort of disdain off his cane. He looks up, takes note of Zoey’s unflattering stunned expression, and says, “Are you goin’ to be sittin’ there starin’ till my bones drop off or are you goin’ to make me some tea?”
Snapping out of it, Zoey blushes, rushing to make the drink under Chester's freezing glare. She sets down the pot, pouring the liquid into the cup as Chester grumbles before sitting down awkwardly.
“So,” Zoey manages to get her voice not to squeak. “How have you been, Chester?”
“Like you care,” Chester says gruffly and takes a sip of his tea. Perfect, just how it's always been. He and Zoey always had the same taste.
“I do care, that’s why I asked,” Zoey responds patiently. Without realizing it, her tone slips into the familiar, soothing, serenade that usually came out whenever Chester made a mean comment. “Just because we haven’t spoken in a while doesn’t mean I don’t wonder how you or everyone else is.”
Chester eyes her suspiciously, and Zoey finds herself randomly struck with how she sees him as Chester, and not Mike. To anyone else, it would look like a teenage boy was acting like an old man, but that wasn’t it. Chester hunched in on himself, and had crooked fingers that always itched for his cane; he subconsciously squinted in one eye and spoke with an inflection that Zoey never knew came from. Mike was the total opposite — he walked straight, but with a small slump in his spine as if to make himself less taller; he used enthusiastic hand motions and spoke loudly when excited. He didn't even like tea like Chester — he preferred juice.
“I’m as fine as these old bones can be in this weather,” Chester says after a moment.
“I see,” Zoey smiles. “You should stay inside and keep warm — what will happen if you slip and fall?” Even if Mike’s body was still young and strong, he had Chester’s psychology — so if he fell, he’d be in immense pain because he believed he had the bones of an old man and wouldn’t be able to get up on his own because of the psychological limits in Chester’s own mind.
“ ’s not like I meant to come out on my own,” Chester scowls. “The boy was already frustrated before that darn hooligan ran the red light while we were crossing. Nearly hit us too, that no good son of a —”
“You’re walking in this weather?” Zoey interrupts before he can go on his tirade. “What about your car?” Mike’s parents had bought him a car in the middle of autumn for passing his drivers test, a beat-up old thing. But still, Mike loved it, and the rest of his alters did too, taking it and driving it around to all their individual appointments.
It had been a fight for Mike to get his license — officials were too worried about him disassociating and switching out while he was driving — but thanks to his psychiatrist’s approval and his adopted parents pushing, he was finally able to get it. She can still remember how proudly Mike's eyes had shone when he first showed her his ID.
“Parents took it away,” Chester grunted. “He was switchin’ out with the rest of us too much.”
“Oh,” Zoey’s mouth felt dry. “I —”
“He's a mess without you, you know. They all are, those stupid young fools. But you should know, with what you said before.”
Zoey feels the words hit, like a sucker-punch to the gut. Her mind flashes back to the time when she asked Mike out. She had worn her favorite red halter top, with wildflower sticker tattoos stamped up her arm as she had rubbed it shyly. She had been so nervous; it had felt like the nerves her belly had turned into a livewire full of electric butterflies.
The words she’d said to him came back to her when he asked why she liked him.
"It's just that … the sort of mess you are ... has always felt like the sort of mess I am.”
How cruel of Chester to bring that up so suddenly. But then again, Chester never really had a problem with being cruel when he wanted to get his words across. Zoey found herself momentarily at a loss of words, stomach flipping in guilt. “That’s not … I didn’t …” What was she supposed to say? Sorry? As great at apologizing as she was, that felt too insensitive to say.
She was self-aware enough to know that she couldn’t keep her friendship with Mike, not after how much she’d hurt him. Maybe if they talked more, if she’d been more commutative …
The familiar sting of tears building up mortifies Zoey and she hides her face behind her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. That only makes it worse as the pressure causes a few wayward drops to slip out. God no, she wouldn’t cry in front of Chester, she wouldn’t …
Zoey waits for the sound of disgust that should be coming from him, a grumble about how sentimental young people were, but —
Something soft touches her cheek and she looks up to see Chester avoiding her eyes, holding out a handkerchief. She sniffles, taking it from his hand and unceremoniously scrubbing her eyes as hard as she can.
“You want to help everyone. You're too sweet to be alone,” Chester says gruffly. “Too dependent on others. You’d save a houseplant if you thought it could be your friend.”
Zoey lets out a choked laugh, not sure if she should be amused or offended at the words. “I just — I thought I'd get over it by now. We weren't even together that long anyways.”
Chester stared at her. “Why do ya still miss him? You’re the one that left.”
Zoey stares down into her cup, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Sometimes you don't get a choice. You think about someone ... a lot.” After she broke up with Mike, she had hoped that that would be the last of it. That he would fade into the background of all the other students, and that the only thing left would be a bittersweet memory.
But no. He still lingers, in her heart and in her mind. He was a bolt out of the blue, and a catastrophe that shakes her to the core. She could go about her day just like any other, and like a habit, she'd think of him.
“That’s what happens when ya give up on somethin’ ya care about. You grieve it just as much as you loved it.”
Zoey glances up at Chester before looking away again.
“What do I do now?” She whispers.
Chester takes a sip of his tea. “Ya know what you did wrong. Ya know what ya wanna change. The only thing that you can do now is try to be better next time around.”
Zoey blinks, the bowstring tightness drawn around her shoulders loosening at his words. She gazes into the mug like it holds all the answers, thoughts swirling around her head like a whirlwind. The fears and insecurities still weighed in her consciousness but now — although tentative — resolve was there as well.
She took a sip of her tea as well, chamomile lingering on her tongue. She could still try.
She wanted to try.
* * *
Svetlana (Winter)
Zoey watches on the sidelines as Svetlana dances on the ice, lost in her own music. The scrapes of ice against her blades are the only sound in the rink. It's completely empty, which she felt fortunate for because now Svetlana can completely focus on her routine while Zoey sits on the sidelines.
Svetlana skates by again, arms moving like the wind, somehow making the most complicated movements look like the easiest thing in the world.
She was intricately beautiful, and Zoey can’t take her eyes off her. Even with all the inner turmoil in her head, she can’t help but stop and stare at her. She knew this place — here, on the ice rink — was where Svetlana belonged. Skating was her passion, and the movements of the dance were her religion. The air rushing by her ears could clear her head more than any words can, and Zoey knows that she is the reason why Svetlana is out on the ice.
The cold bites her fingers numb and brings a rosy color to her cheeks, stinging like a slap. Zoey didn’t bring gloves with her, a self-inflicting punishment for what is to come. If this was, perhaps, a month ago, she would have been out on the ice with her, sliding on her skates and trying to catch up to Svetlana. Laughter would be echoing throughout the rink as she kept on slipping, not the void of silence now between them.
She couldn't do it anymore.
She could feel her mind fracturing the more she was stretched thin.
She was just so tired. She couldn't handle it. Dating five personalities, each with their own individual traumas, was too much. The stress, the insecurities, the fears were piling up and she just wanted a break.
She thinks (or hopes, maybe) that the others can sense it — her pulling away. It was cowardly, but she hoped that they would willingly drift off into the sea of faces in the school so that Zoey wouldn’t be able to say anything at all.
Svetlana dances across the ice, blissfully lost in her own winter wonderland and slows to a stop. She opens her eyes and catches Zoey’s. She isn’t quite sure what look reads in her gaze, but Svetlana doesn’t skate forward and close the seemingly sudden large gap between them.
Zoey was gonna break her heart. Take the fragile organ that all of the alters held so dear and shatter it into a million pieces.
* * *
Manitoba (Fall)
Manitoba pulled her along by her hand, dragging her to wherever he was taking her. She honestly had no clue. Mike had switched when he was in gym class, and the now-present Manitoba Smith had promptly ditched and went to seek Zoey out, even though she was in a different class at the time.
It had been … an experience to find out about Mike’s alters. She had known that he had some sort of disorder, because he always seemed to have a pink slip note of visiting the counselor’s office. It wasn’t until Mike had told her about his Multiple Personality Disorder —or Dissociative Identity Disorder, as Cameron often corrected— and Cameron had explained what it was when she suddenly understood.
Apparently, back at his old school, Mike had been severely bullied for his disorder and was often called a freak. Monster. Jekyll and Hyde. It had enraged Zoey beyond reason. She herself had been picked on for being different back in her old town, and she knew how much words could hurt.
When he came here, Mike’s plan of laying low was shot when he saw Duncan, who recognized him when they were in juvie, and from Scott, who had wrangled the truth from Cameron with slightly unethical means. Because it was a small school, the information traveled around the grapevine. Nobody batted an eye. Wawanaka High, if nothing else, was filled with eccentric people.
Mike had explained that he didn’t tell her about his personalities sooner because he was afraid she would think he was a freak, but Zoey had simply laughed and told him how much she loved oddballs. But secretly, she was nervous. She had no idea on how to handle his alters, or his trauma that sometimes arose at the most random things. It had been weird, and scary, and confusing, to see the boy she liked (like … really liked), acting like someone else entirely. His posture, his voice, his entire attitude did a complete turn around, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
“Why are you dragging me out of class?” Zoey complains. “We have midterms coming up, and—”
“You’re focusing on the wrong things, treasure!” Manitoba laughs. Zoey trips at the nickname. “You only live once! Why not make this one worth living with adventure!”
Easy for him to say. Mike was the only one who had to focus on school grades and studying. All the others were there for fun.
Manitoba leads them up the stairs to the roof and Zoey withdraws when she sees the Emergency Exit plastered on the doorway.
“Wait, what are you doing?!”
“Huh?”
“You’ll set off the fire alarm!”
Manitoba laughs like she’s said something cute. He opens the doorway to the rooftop and Zoey holds her breath, waiting for the alarms to start. When there is nothing, she lets it out almost disappointedly. A dud.
Manitoba doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk onto the roof and Zoey doesn’t pull away either as she looks around. So this is where Manitoba went whenever Mike switched out with him. Since Mike had a full-time pass to the counselor’s, he was technically obligated to go there whenever he felt like he was about to dissociate, but he and the others never did. She knows that for a fact because the other alters have been caught trying to leave school (Vito and Manitoba mostly) and now Zoey finally knows where one of them disappears.
Zoey can’t help but stare at him while his back is towards her.
She liked to keep busy. Needed to, really, because then she can ignore the persistent loneliness that ached whenever she was alone in a house that was too big for only her. So she made friends, joined clubs, and studied hard. She took it as a challenge when Cameron had asked if she would date any of the alters since she was dating Mike. If her boyfriend had more parts of himself then she wanted to know them as well.
And she liked them, too. Zoey didn’t doubt that before long she would like them just as much as she liked Mike. Svetlana had a beautiful soul and Zoey loved spending time with her. Manitoba was wild but captivating and she could feel herself getting used to him as well. Vito was coming around as well, taking her on drives whenever possible. She was slowly finding the gaps in Chester’s prickly nature and she remained a polite distance with the ever-elusive Mal.
There were doubts, perhaps, that she had been too hopeful. Not that she would ever think Mike a freak, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she had bitten off more than she could chew. If she was truly the right person to handle this. Zoey had her own problems and insecurities, and she could admit that she was prone to keeping it in due to her upbringing — unlike Mike, who knew how to communicate thanks to his training with his therapist.
“You get quiet when you’re stressed.”
She blinks, broken out of her thoughts due to Manitoba’s casual remark.
“Sorry,” she said. “I think more in my head than aloud.”
“I know, love.”
Zoey is glad Manitoba doesn’t comment on the small jerk she makes at his nickname and her furious blush. It was still embarrassing to get used to the others’ affection.
“Now, get on the ledge, Sheila.”
Zoey raises a brow.
Manitoba’s mouth curved into a smirk. “’Course, if you’re feeling afraid I’ll have no problem holding onto a beautiful—”
Maybe it was because of the thought of Manitoba thinking that she was weak or too afraid or boring to do it, but before she thought about it she grabbed onto the metal bars separating her from the ledge and leaped over them. Her converse hit the other side and Zoey spun around to face open air. The wind wasn’t too bad, but if she let go of the bar it would only take a push to send her careening to her death.
Zoey glanced over her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. “You were saying?”
Manitoba gazed at her, none of his usual cockiness in his eyes. “Look.”
She's never had a fear of heights, so she isn't afraid when she stares down at the world. Trees dappled with red, orange, and gold leaves lined the block of houses they adorned. The cars looked like toys on the winding road, the people so small they looked like ants. She hears Manitoba jump on the ledge to join her but doesn't turn her head.
“Wrong place, Shiela.”
“What?” Zoey asks. She turns to look at Manitoba only to see him watching her already.
“You’re looking in the wrong place.”
Without any further comment, he takes her chin and gently lifts it up so her gaze shifts upwards. Away from the town and to the world beyond that. Midnight-colored lakes, rolling plains, and forests stretching as far as the eye can see. And even farther, mountains peaking towards the blue sky, desperate to touch the clouds.
The air rushed out of her in her next breath.
And suddenly, Zoey understood what Manitoba was trying to make her get. There was a whole world out there. A whole country, and whole continent, even, and Zoey was still lost in her head. Her problems seemed like nothing in the grand scheme of things, and Zoey was just letting her life pass her by because she let them consume her.
She stands on the edge of the rooftop. Wind brushes along her skin, causing goosebumps to rise along her arm, but Zoey doesn’t say anything. She didn’t bring her jacket, and Manitoba wasn’t wearing one either. Even if he was, she doubted she would ask for it. She stands on the ledge, making no move to shield herself from the wind and looks at the Canadian wilderness in front of them.
She tips her head back and closes her eyes, the wind making the loose strands of her hair fly around her. Her feet felt rooted to her place, but she imagines herself as free as a bird. She could taste the tantalizing weight of wilderness on her tongue and wants.
So Zoey stands, and stares, and breathes.
* * *
Mike (Fall)
Zoey walked into her last class of the day, Chemistry. It had taken her a while to find the classroom, so most of the tables were filled up. She spotted Lightning in the back showing off with Cody staring up with adoring eyes. Noah was on the other side of the class, rolling his eyes at the antics before burying his nose in his book.
Apprehension pooled her gut. She didn’t know who to sit by and barely knew anyone. The class was mainly filled with seniors she only knew by name with only a handful of juniors she had never spoken to.
Zoey feels sick. She wants to walk right out. Why was her social anxiety starting to act up now?
She spots a boy sitting with a table to himself, a giant bookbag next to him. He’s hunched over, like he wasn’t used to the open air around him, and is wearing thick glasses and a giant red hoodie that hide nothing with how scrawny he is. Zoey is surprised to see him have such a big bag, seeing as how the boy is basically twigs it looks like even the weight of a butterfly could knock him over.
He seemed like the safest bet to sit next to.
Zoey walks towards the small boy — anxiety trembling in her bones — and gives him a nice smile, trying to appear more confident than she truely was.
“Hi!” She greets cheerfully. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
The boy jolts so hard that he nearly topples to the floor. “Oh! Yeah, sure! No problem!” He eagerly swipes all his belongings off the side of the table to make room for her.
“Thanks,” she says, taking a seat. Continue the conversation, ask questions rings in her head from all the How-To-Make-Friends podcasts she had obsessively listened to over the summer. “I don't think I've ever seen you around before. Are you a freshman?”
The boy lights up, and soon he is talking a mile a minute. His name is Cameron, and he's sixteen like her — which surprised her, given his small stature — but this is his first year of attending Wawanakwa High after being homeschooled all his life. Apparently his mother was obsessively overprotective of her only son and as a result, Cameron was what was known as a “bubble boy”. He was sweet though, and eager, even though he lacked any real world experience he was quite knowledgeable in academics.
By the time Cameron kindly offers her some hand sanitizer, Zoey is estatic to find that she has made her first real friend of the year.
Their conversation comes to a natural lull and Zoey busies herself organizing her backpack and pulling out the notebook she will need for the class.
Officially, chemistry should have already started, but none of the seniors pause in their continuous chatter and after waiting for another awkward couple of minutes, Cameron turns and asks a senior, Courtney, where the teacher was. The honors student makes a face, nose wrinkling in a way that makes her freckles scrunch cutely and responds, “Our teacher is Blainely. She never shows up to class on time, no matter how much Principal McLean complains.”
A desk over, a girl named Heather with beautiful, glossy long hair, scoffs in a way that shows her just how much she’s a fan of their teacher and goes back to filing her nails. Zoey wants to compliment her on her hair, but something primal very deep inside of her tells her that any word spoken to her would be met with a nasty comment on her hair.
She goes back to doodling on her own notebook before all of the sudden the door slams open and a harried teen rushes in. He’s holding a pink slip that meant he was coming from the office, and after seeing that the teacher is nowhere in sight, looks for a table.
He lights up as he sees the only open seat on Cameron’s other side and hurries towards it, practically dumping all his belongings on the table as he collapses in his seat.
“Hey,” he says, running his fingers through his spiky hair. “Did class start yet?”
Cameron shook his head no.
“Really? But didn’t class start like —” he glances at the clock, “— ten minutes ago?”
“Well, our teacher for this class is Ms. Blainely, and I heard she doesn't care about tardiness because she's always late.” Zoey reports back what Courtney said to her.
“Can’t see why,” the boy responds flippantly. “We’re as pleasant as all the teachers in the school.”
Zoey feels her cheeks pull up in a grin and she giggles. “Nice to meet you. I’m —”
Blainely slams through the door of her classroom like a typhoon of bravado and too-much confidence for a teacher who was late to her own class by ten minutes. “Alright, you little brats, it’s time for Chemistry!” She sing-songs.
There’s a thunk from behind of Bridgette slamming her head into her table and her deskmate Lindsay sympathetically pats her on the back. A few tables over, Heather fake gags.
Blainely, in her true, characteristic nonchalant fashion, tells them to have at it in mixing the chemicals after barely skimming the safety protocols and handing out labs.
Her, Cameron, and their new teammate work in tandem together, like they’re a well-oiled machine. He cracks jokes with Cameron and laughs with Zoey, and she feels her cheeks getting sore with how much she's grinning.
She hasn't had this much fun in a long time. Their new teammate is charismatic. And cute. And nice. Zoey didn’t really have a type, but if she did …
Well. It would probably be him.
From over Cameron’s head where he’s chattering, Zoey chances a peek at the boy to see him already watching her. Her heart leaps in surprise and she can’t help but stare at him even after he quickly glances away. Does she have pen ink on her face? It wouldn’t be the first time. Zoey opens her mouth to ask, but before she could —
The bell rings.
The students stir and begin packing their bags with vigor, chatter filling the air as the last class of the day is finished. Cameron bids them goodbye and leaves quickly, and Zoey waves as he practically sprints towards the door, saying something about his mom picking him up.
She spots the boy beginning to pack his bag with the new chemistry papers and realizes amongst all the fun they had together, she has yet to learn his name.
“Hey,” Zoey smiles over the space at the boy. “My name is Zoey.”
The boy blinks, then gives her this big, beautiful, beaming grin that seemed to light up his entire face. Zoey feels her heart skip a beat, then trip and stumble and crash against her ribcage at the sight of it. Oh boy.
“I'm … Mike.”
* * *
okay this has been rotating in my mind for a while, but i had an idea that the ghosts pull some Ennard type shit and use Chris's body as a vessel. or in otherwords; a host (ik im so funny)