The question is, do you have it in you to make it epic?
FURIOSA: A MAD MAX SAGA | OFFICIAL TRAILER #1
Three Goblin Art
Xuebing Du
Jules of Nature
Peter Solarz
trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium
noise dept.
$LAYYYTER
đŞź
Stranger Things
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Misplaced Lens Cap
cherry valley forever
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

@theartofmadeline
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

romaâ
No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Peru
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from India

seen from Sweden
seen from United States

seen from U.S. Virgin Islands
seen from United States

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from United States

seen from Slovenia
seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from Paraguay

seen from Singapore
@thatonezombiecosplayer
The question is, do you have it in you to make it epic?
FURIOSA: A MAD MAX SAGA | OFFICIAL TRAILER #1
Continuation of the ghost!Max AU
So apparently we were kind of breaking things with the ridiculous length of the old post. So. New post. Go here to read the fic from the beginning.
Furiosa is interrupted from her work by a knock on the door and a cheerful âFuriosaaa! We brought your favorite!â
Furiosa looks over her shoulder and starts to haul herself off the couch, but Max is already at the door and opens it slowly for her friends, being careful not to accidentally slam it into the wall. He had nearly broken the glass on the sliding back door a while ago when he opened it to throw the ball for Sue one day.
âThanks, Max,â Dag says cheerfully as she strides inside.
The one Max is pretty sure was introduced to him as Cheedo steps in a little more timidly, her eyes wide. âI swear, thatâs so creepy.â Max lets her close the door herself, if him doing it freaks her out so much. He does click the lock shut when she forgets to, though, which may not have been the least creepy thing he could have done, but heâs not about to leave the door unlocked with people who want to kill Furiosa somewhere out there.
Max then floats through the wall to occupy himself elsewhere as Dag unveils three wrapped fast food hamburgers with more flourish than it probably requires. Dag doesnât seem to mind him lurking around so much anymore, but he knows Cheedo still gets a little freaked out when either Dag or Furiosa talks to him, so he figures heâll just not provide the opportunity this evening.
He waits until he hears the front door close and the voices are gone, then waits a little longer, until he hears Furiosa shuffle off to bed before he comes out of hiding.
As much as heâd rather have Furiosa in his house than some other trespasser who heâll probably like less, he keeps finding his mind wandering back to ways he might be able to scare or threaten her out of this house, if only for her own good. Heâs pretty short on ideas that would actually work, though. Heâd done some pretty awful stuff (intentionally or not) when she had first moved in, and she had certainly not been deterred then, so why would she be any more deterred now that she knows him? He sighs and settles in for yet another long night of nothing but his own thoughts.
Max had never really thought it was lucky that he doesnât sleep anymore - mostly itâs boring as all hell being awake constantly, and he misses being able to dream, even if the dreams he used to have were bad sometimes - but this night he considers himself lucky.
Heâs staring lazily at Sue asleep on her dog bed, feet and nose twitching as she dreams, when a quiet click and rattling catches his attention. It canât be the cat, he always sleeps in Furiosaâs room these days. Max floats through a wall and toward the noise. He stops in the living room and stares at the front door as the handle jiggles.
Quickly Max goes to the front window and peers out toward the door, trying to see whoâs there. Male. White. Twenties. Might be bald, but he canât tell for the black cap over the guyâs head. Regardless, he looks like the same sort that had tried to break in previously, and Max doesnât doubt the same sort that tried to crush Furiosaâs car with a truck.
The man moves around to the back door and Max is momentarily frozen in indecision. The deadbolt on the front door is pretty solid; the back door, not so much. Should he go wake up Furiosa, or stay to make sure this guy doesnât get in?
The guy pries a knife in the door frame, pushing at the measly little latch that keeps the sliding door locked. Max watches the little lever slowly lift, and quickly smashes it back down. The guy grumbles quietly, unaware that that had been anything other than a sticky lock, and tries again. Max flips it closed when he nearly gets it open again.
Truthfully, Max could do this all night, but he figures the man will eventually give up on the door and try to find another way to get in. Probably a more destructive way. He doesnât know if he can keep stopping him, but he does know that if Furiosaâs awake she can have a good shot at defending herself. He flips the lock closed one more time and rushes through the kitchen wall and straight into Furiosaâs room. He shakes the bed violently for a moment, earning a yowl of surprise from Frank and a string of curses from Furiosa, and then he grabs her service weapon off the night stand, drops it on the bed next to her, and flies back through the walls toward the back door.
He had honestly hoped the could mess with the man some more, keep him out just long enough for Furiosa to get out here and see him, maybe get an ID on him, but as Max comes through the kitchen wall, he sees the man already stepping inside and quietly closing the door behind him. The intruder moves straight toward the stove, where he cranks all four knobs, turning on the gas without letting the burners light, and Maxâs eyes widen. Oh no. Nobody blows up his house, especially not with his friend and his dog inside.
He grabs the nearest object, a tea mug sitting next to the sink, and flings it at the intruderâs head. It misses by a few inches and smashes into the wall a good distance past the man, and Max goes for another. This one slams into the guyâs back a moment after heâs jumped and spun toward the sound of the previous mug smashing against the wall, and with a surprised grunt he spins around again to defend himself against his attacker, only to get a third mug right in the face. He stumbles back, dazed but not halted by the hit, and Max rushes forward, focusing only half his mind on making himself solid. He shoves the man back as he passes through him, gritting his teeth against the unpleasant sensation. Judging by the sound Mooreâs lackey makes, it wasnât any more pleasant for him, either.
The guyâs on the floor now at least, and Max goes for the nearest object again - the toaster, not that heâs particularly paying attention at the moment - and lifts it up into the air.
âMax, stop!â
Furiosaâs voice halts him instantly, toaster held high as he looks over to see her standing in the entrance to the kitchen, gun aimed at the man on the floor.
âWhat did I say about breaking my shit?â
the intruder- not any of joeâs goons that she knows, but itâs hard to be sure in the lightless kitchen- takes one look at the gun in her hand and cuts his losses, diving after the toaster slipping through the air to flee out of the newly-broken-open back door. furiosa fires anyway but the bullet lands out in the dark yard, missing by about a kilometer. apparently standing in lopsided discomfort has a way of messing with your aim, go figure.
âthere more?â she asks the vague shadowy area that she thinks is max. the stove keeps hissing out gas until she twists the knobs back down with sharp flicks, glad that at least the shattered glass means the place will air out quickly enough. she doesnât want to think about why it was turned on, about smothering and explosions, her luck in having the muzzle flash from her gun not spark anything off
max doesnât respond, but the shadowâs bobbed its way out of the kitchen and she figures heâs going to check. she should check the rest of the house herself, she thinks, thumb resting on the safety to her gun but not flicking it back on just yet. sheâd taken off the leg brace to sleep and hobbling her way down the short hallways is an ungraceful affair now that she doesnât have the spike of pure adrenaline to fuel her. when she reaches the living room she stops and listens but canât hear anything else in the house beyond the clinking of sueâs tags
âclearâ max says from somewhere near the front door, voice no longer such a surprise to hear coming from thin air. not that itâs really thin air all the time these days, especially in the dark of night like it is now, where she could almost swear she actually does see the figure of a man standing in her living room as exactly as if he is really there
she waits a few beats to be sure, tense and straining for noise and movement, but agrees with his assessment, and flicks the safety before putting the gun down on the coffee table. sheâs been healing, but the stress hasnât done her any good and she leans herself against the back of the couch with a groan next, wishing she could just go back to bed
âdid you break the kettle?â she asks maxâs general direction, the image of her poor toaster flying through the glass door even after sheâd told him to stop flashing through her mind again. she would wonder if heâd done it on purpose except that sheâs pretty sure theyâve passed that particular stage of their relationship for good a while ago
in answer she catches a glimpse of shadowed movement, and then hears from the kitchen the plastic click of the kettle turning on. one piece of good news, then, and she starts levering herself up to get to her phone so she can deal with this before someone gets over-dramatic about hearing a gunshot in their quiet neighborhood
-
max watches the strangers with trepidation
theyâre not local cops but part of the same agency-department-whatever furiosa works at, heâs pretty sure, and while theyâre people sheâs invited into the house theyâre not people heâs invited in, not people he knows or likes or, considering how they allowed furiosa to be left alone with just him as backup, not people he particularly trusts
itâs probably for the best that none of them seem to take any notice of him, but their chatter doesnât tell him anything useful as they go over entry points and footprints and whether they should bother asking the neighbors anything
âoh geeze,â the woman of the pair says, jarring enough that max thinks it was unintentional. âfuriosa, whatâs all this?â
when he focuses his attention on her, the womanâs holding onto a thick stack of printed pages with a sour expression
furiosa shifts in place in a way max knows means sheâs uncomfortable and defensive, and he leans in to get a look at what the papers are- just research for the case, heâs pretty sure
the woman sighs. âi know they havenât replaced your laptop yet so what, youâre accessing classified reports on some civvie terminal? and printing them out? do i even have to say it?â she wags the papers in her hands pointedly and max has to resist the urge to slap them away from her on principle
âlooking at paper saves me a headache,â furiosa says, which is probably a better lie than the truth, that sheâs printing stuff out so he can read it without frying any delicate electronics
âyou shouldnât be looking at it at all!â she says. scraps of paper puff out of the stack when she slams it onto the kitchen table, and max surreptitiously nudges away what ones he can because heâs pretty sure this woman isnât going to leave them here give the chance
âitâs my case,â furiosa nearly snarls, her tense body suddenly looming over the shorter woman as she steps in close
but the woman isnât intimidated, and glares right back. ânot anymore and you know it,â she says. âyouâre on leave for a while yet and after tonight iâd be surprised if they donât kick you off this for goodâ
furiosa takes a breath, and he watches her phantom hand twitch and contort before she deflates. when theyâre alone again- assuming they get to be alone, that she isnât assigned a guard whoâll notice her talking to the air and haul her off to a shrink- max almost thinks he might reach out to commiserate with her about being thrown off cases when itâs the last thing you want
awake and grumpy, sue finally decides sheâs had enough of the commotion inside the house and makes for the back door, despite the area still being strewn with glass and ceramic shards. max canât risk picking her up to carry her outside nor does he want to grab a broom and try to clean up right now, not with strangers wandering around still, so he instead crouches down and herds her away from the kitchen as best he can, eventually shutting her up in the bathroom so she doesnât get out. when he returns the papers have been bundled up under the womanâs arm and she and her partner seem to be leaving, finally
when theyâre gone furiosa lets out a long sigh, and max tries to grab for the broom so he can clear a path for sue. it slips off its hook obligingly enough but then falls down, and his hands seem to keep slipping through it so it clatters against the floor
âi get it,â she says irritably. âi need to clean upâ
max grunts; heâs not trying to make her do things, heâs trying to be helpful. his fingers finally close around the handle of the broom correctly enough to hold on, and he makes a show of starting to sweep up the bits of glass that have been tracked this far into the kitchen
âoh,â she says in a softer tone, and then yawns. âiâm going back to bed, thenâ
he hums in reply, not that it matters whether she can hear or not, and focuses on his task while the sun rises
Furiosa has never been one to sleep in long, and now is not an exception to that rule, even with the lost sleep from last nightâs events. She looks tired and grumpy when she finally limps out of her room that morning and into the kitchen. She starts the kettle for tea, and grabs two slices of bread and hobbles over to where the toaster normally sits before she remembers that the appliance is currently laying out in the back yard. She heaves a heavy sigh, and Max wonders if perhaps it would be best for him to go hide in the basement for a while.
He had finished cleaning up the glass shards in the house last night, and had even attempted to retrieve the toaster, wondering if the broken glass door might have somehow opened up a gap for him to get out. He could be of so much more help to Furiosa if he werenât stuck in this house all the time.
It turned out that breaking the continuity of the house was not the loophole he had hoped it would be, and his hand met the same resistance it always did when he tried to leave. He couldnât even retrieve the damn toaster he had inadvertently thrown, and in fact ended up losing the broom to the outside as well. In an effort to give Sue a fully clear path to go outside without cutting her paws, he had reached the broom outside as best he could and swept the glass out there aside, but in the process he had lost his grip on it, and it had fallen out of his reach. With a grumble he had given up and gone to let Sue out of the bathroom.
Furiosa is staring tiredly out the door and into the yard at the toaster and broom. Max takes the two discarded pieces of bread and puts them back in the bread bag. Heâs betting he fried the toaster in the process of using it as a weapon, which means there would be no toast for Furiosa today. He considers making it up to her by making scrambled eggs (he remembers he used to be pretty good at it), but decides against it in the end. It would probably just result in raw egg everywhere, and he figures heâs done enough damage already.
Instead, he settles for preparing her usual tea as she makes her way outside to retrieve the broom and toaster. She tosses the broom just inside the door before she picks up the toaster and comes back in, inspecting it with a grim expression. Max grabs the broom and hangs it back on its hook, then offers her the mug of tea.
âSorry,â he grunts quietly.
âItâs replaceable,â she answers tiredly, and follows it up with a quiet âthanks,â as she puts the toaster down and reaches for the mug. Her living hand brushes his incorporeal one as she does, and they both jerk back in surprise. Heâs gotten better at not causing unpleasant sensations when he intentionally touches Furiosa or when Sue touches her nose to him, but apparently that still takes conscious effort.
Tea sloshes out of the cup and onto the floor, thankfully splashing through Maxâs legs and feet rather than onto Furiosaâs, and Max mumbles another âsorry,â before putting the mug down and going for some paper towels to clean up the mess. The paper towel roll slips off of its holder and tumbles onto the floor, unrolling far more paper towel than he needed, and Max grunts in frustration.
âItâs okay,â she says. âYouâve helped a lot already. I can get that later.â She picks up the tea mug he had set down and moves over to the table. Max quietly focuses his attention on finishing what he started anyway, tearing off the unrolled length of paper towel and wadding it up to mop up the spill. When heâs done, he floats past her toward the other side of the kitchen, but stops when he notices her eyes following him. He backs up a bit. Her eyes follow him backward, and then she glances away suddenly and focuses on her tea, as if being caught staring at a ghost is a social faux pas.
Sheâs gotten better lately at figuring out where he is and he thinks sometimes that she can at least sense his movement, but heâs never noticed any signs before that she can actually see him. He takes an unnecessary breath to ask, wondering if sheâs actually seeing him now or just following whatever keys her off to his movement, but she opens her mouth at the same time.
âSometimes youâre an asshole, but⌠Iâm glad youâre here.â She glances toward him again briefly as he stands silently, unable to think of a response. âHe could have killed me,â she continues. âBut⌠I feel safe here.â
Max doesnât think too hard about the fact that heâs the reason she feels safe. He doesnât think either about the glow of warmth he thinks heâs feeling somewhere around where his chest should be. Both of those lead to far more attachment than he thinks a dead man warrants, and instead he simply grunts quietly and continues his trip across the kitchen. Thereâs still a broken piece of tea mug sitting against the far wall that he had missed cleaning up.
He glances at her again on his way back to the trash can with the mug shard, and he can tell that sheâs actively smothering a tired smile.
â
The brunt of that dayâs events involve men coming over to replace the broken back door and Capable bringing over the new toaster that Furiosa had asked her to pick up, and then Furiosa settles into a doldrum of boredom and agitation. He doesnât know if sheâs been officially kicked off her case or not, but the papers she had printed out are gone, and she makes no move to replace them. She has the TV running in the background, the volume low, and they both sit idly by, only half paying attention to it as the day drags on. Ironically, the present show is some cop drama, the details of which Max isnât really following.
âI told them about that lead,â Furiosa says suddenly. âDonât know if theyâll do anything about it, but itâs not like I can.â She sighs. âIf they can find anything sketchy about those warehouses, maybe they can get somewhere.â
âYou got a good ID on the intruder,â Max supplies.
âWith me stuck here, that only does any good if they catch him again for something.â
Max grunts. âStill. Could help.â
They settle into a silence, and Max fidgets a little. âGot kicked off a case once,â he finally admits, and he suddenly has Furiosaâs full attention. âGot too involved. The suspects had it out for me too.â He knows that if Dag were here he would immediately be asked if that was how he died, but heâs glad Furiosa doesnât push like that.
âIt got solved anyway,â he says with a shrug he knows she probably canât see. âIt was frustrating, but things were bad then too. They probably would have got me if I had kept at it.â Heâs struck by how silly it feels to talk about his life being saved when heâs dead now anyway, but at least he had gotten a little more time to live.
He doesnât know if that was any kind of reassuring, but when he looks over at Furiosa, she has a sympathetic look on her face.
âYouâre right,â she says with a sigh, then a little smile creeps across her face. âAt least here I have a bodyguard to help me keep an eye out.â
Max huffs a little, but heâs smiling too. âIf you died, Iâd have to put up with someone even more annoying moving into my house.â
âAsshole.â
Max grins.
capable, cheedo, and dag visit the day after the break-in, bearing junk food and some cheesy movie that they insist will make her feel better
furiosa relents and lets them put it on, though she smugly takes over the entire couch to ensure her braced leg is propped up comfortably
max is a dark shimmer of air in the corner of the room, like a shadow that doesnât quite belong. if she looks out of the corner of her eye, she can sometimes see the actual shape of him, the details of his clothes and expressions. once this would have been startling, would have made her go on alert, but now she finds his presence comforting. he doesnât sleep, heâs said, and so she knows thereâs always someone looking out for her and the animals
frank curls up on her lap and stubbornly refuses to purr, but his warm weight is another form of comfort
midway through the movie, her phone rings, discordant against the quiet chatter as the girls talk about something inconsequential. furiosa sighs, and starts to lever herself up to fetch it- max canât touch it without frying it, after all
âiâll get it,â cheedo says, and furiosa feels a hint of embarrassment. sheâd forgotten that just because max couldnât touch her electronics, didnât mean that no one else could
the phoneâs stopped ringing by the time cheedo returns with it, giving the corner max is lurking in a wide berth. furiosa thanks her and brings up the call log, stomach tightening into a knot when she sees itâs the office
âi should call them back,â she says, and capable nods, pausing the movie as if sheâs actually paying any attention to it
toast picks up after the second ring. âfuriosa, good,â she says. âhow are you feeling?â
âfine,â furiosa replies, knowing that toast wouldnât call her during office hours for something as unimportant as a check-up. âwhatâs going on?â
âwe have some new information,â toast says, âlong and short of it is, we need to put you up in a hotel for a few daysâ
furiosaâs eyebrows raise in surprise, her eyes flickering around the living room on instinct. nothing looks amiss, not that she expected differently. âwhy?â
âi canât give details, of course,â toast says, and thereâs the sound of a keyboard clacking, âbut we have reason to suspect that mooreâs goons are going to try and get to you againâ
âtheyâre putting too much effort into this,â furiosa says with a harsh exhale. sure, sheâs the one who broke open the case, but itâs out of her hands now. what do they gain from keeping to try and kill her?
âmaybe,â toast says, âor maybe we donât have all the facts yet. weâve got a pretty good tip-off, though, so youâre being placed in protective custody for a few days while we get this sortedâ
âwhat about my animals?â furiosa says, left arm stroking down frankâs furry spine. the girls are watching her with interest, but theyâre not interrupting with questions
toast sighs. âwe can get a pet-friendly hotel, i guess,â she says. âget to packing, weâre sending a car by in an hourâ
thereâs a lot furiosa would like to ask, but she knows that toast wonât be able to give her answers. now that sheâs had her case access revoked sheâs in the dark completely until things are settled, and itâs hard to swallow
âokay,â she says. toast says her goodbyes and hangs up, leaving furiosa to stare at the phone before lifting her eyes to the other occupants in the room
âsorry,â she says, âweâre going to have to finish this another timeâ
âwhat? why?â capable asks
âi canât say,â furiosa says, âbut iâll be gone for a few daysâ
the shadow that is her resident ghost wavers in the air, but he doesnât speak. not until after the girls are gone, anyway, and furiosa is starting to hobble her way to her bedroom to pack up
âwhatâs going on?â he asks, voice materializing out of the air at the threshold of her door
furiosa flicks her eyes towards him, but the shadow of his presence is gone. âthey want me in protective custody for a few days,â she says. âtheyâre worried somethingâs gonna happenâ
max hums. âsue and frank?â
âcoming with me,â she says. âiâd leave them with you, but if they do something to the houseâŚâ
âno,â he says, âmakes senseâ
thereâs silence as she stuffs a few changes of clothes into her worn duffle, and then he clears his throat and says, âare you coming back?â
that makes her pause, and she straightens back up so she can look directly at where sheâs pretty sure heâs standing. floating. whatever. âyes,â she says simply, with conviction. this place is hers now, or maybe theirs, and either way she isnât going to be driven out by some cut-rate thugs
thereâs a gust of air like a sigh, then max says, âiâll do what i canâ
it shouldnât be comforting, to hear that a ghost is going to be keeping an eye on the place while sheâs gone. but max isnât just some nebulous idea of a horror movie ghost anymore- heâs a person, a friend. even if heâs still an asshole on occasion.
âthanks,â furiosa says
For years Max had dreamed of having the house to himself. And it used to be he enjoyed the times between tenants, after he had scared one out and before they managed to sell the house to another.
But now? Now he finds that being alone is actually⌠not what he wants.
He had gotten so used to Furiosaâs company, had even started really adjusting to the fact that she had no intention of leaving despite him being there, and that was actually not horrible.
It surprises him, to be honest. He had spent so long resenting the living for coming into his space, that the idea of wanting one here feels strange, despite his willingness to admit it to himself.
He keeps himself occupied for a little while thinking about this, about what things could be like if Furiosa stays long-term, and what that means for him. It kind of feels like he could have a chance to almost, almost live again. At least he could pretend, as much as he can. Having someone around who can usually hear him, sometimes sort of see him, and yet doesnât treat him like thatâs all horrible and he shouldnât be here does remind him of what it was like to be alive. His body may never feel alive again, but with Furiosaâs help, maybe his mind can.
With nobody around, thereâs no need to hide in the basement, or up in the rafters of the attic like he usually does when he wants to give Furiosa and her friends some privacy, or just wants to think to himself without distraction. He figures he should stay on the main floor of the house anyway, and keep an eye out for anybody who might come and mess with it.
He roams about, checking windows, making sure things are secure. He floats by the front window and watches carefully for anything suspicious.
He kind of wishes Furiosa had left the TV on for him, but figures maybe itâs better that she didnât. He might not be able to hear someone trying to break in over the noise of it.
By the second day, he takes to cleaning up the house. In lieu of taking care of Sue, he figures he might as well do something helpful while he waits.
By the third day, he has straightened and tidied just about everything he can find that he figures Furiosa wonât mind that he touches.
By the fourth day, heâs really starting to wonder how he used to do it. How did he spend hours and even days completely alone? How did the silence and the emptiness not drive him crazy?
By the fifth day, heâs getting truly antsy. Heâs been keeping an eye outside, waiting for somebody to come and try something, but he hasnât seen a single soul approach the house, other than postal workers. He wonders if he should have been watching more carefully instead of cleaning up the last few days. Maybe he missed something. Maybe they did something when he wasnât paying attention.
He flicks a few lights on and off again to check that the electricity is still working. He briefly turns on one of the burners on the stove to make sure the gas line hasnât been tampered with. And after that, thereâs not a lot he can think of to test to make sure the house is safe before Furiosa comes back. He wishes he could go outside to check the perimeter. Instead, he settles by the front window again, and watches cars and people go by, none of them even stopping to look his way.
â
Furiosaâs stay in the hotel is nice enough, if a little boring. Frank is agitated at being in a new place. Sue, as usual, is pretty chill in general, though even after theyâve settled in, she spends some time occasionally wandering around the small area, as if looking for something.
Furiosa keeps the privacy tag outside her door. Part of protective custody means having someone with her if she wants to go anywhere, and thatâs annoying more than anything else, so she opts for just staying in, only going as far as the lawn outside when Sue needs to go out.
She watches TV, scrolls through pages on her computer, and tries to give Sue some attention now and then to distract her from just wandering around.
Itâs not too different from what she was doing when she was stuck at home, but it feels lonelier. She hadnât really realized how much she had gotten used to having another person around, always having someone to talk to if she wanted to. Or at least having someone around when he wasnât busy moping somewhere out of sight.
Moving into a house that had a ghost had never even been something she would have considered as a possibility before, but now that she has, sheâs become kind of fond of her dead companion. The last few days have solidified that. The quiet and the loneliness have only made it more clear that really, she does like having him around.
Itâs a comforting bonus that heâs willing to keep her - their - house safe, and at least she can relax a bit while sheâs here knowing itâs all in good hands. She likes that house and decided a while ago that she didnât want to move, but she realizes now that Max is as much a part of that decision, if not more, than the house itself.
She doesnât hear a word from anyone about the case, which she has come to expect, but that doesnât make it any less frustrating. She doesnât hear anything about if anybodyâs made an attempt on her home, either, and she just tries to take that to mean that everything on that front is fine.
It has been nearly a week and she thinks sheâs going to go crazy with boredom, when her phone rings. She glances at the caller ID, and she snatches the phone up.
âToast,â she says quickly in greeting, and then immediately tries to tone it down and not sound as desperate for news as she is. âWhatâs going on?â
âCase is closed,â Toast says simply. âYou can go home now. Iâll send someone to pick you up within an hour.â
âDonât suppose you can tell me how it went,â Furiosa cuts in before Toast gets a chance to end the call.
Toast hesitates, and Furiosa expects sheâs going to stand her ground on Furiosa still being off the case, even though itâs done and closed. She hears a small sigh before Toast finally decides to speak. âThe same source that tipped us off to another threat coming your way came through with another tip. That combined with the warehouses you suggested was the key. We have Moore in custody, along with a number of his people.â
Furiosa lets out her breath. Itâs not as much as sheâd like to know, but itâs more than she was actually expecting to get, so sheâll take it.
âPack your stuff, weâll send someone soon.â With that, Toast hangs up.
She canât help but do a quick visual scan of her house as she approaches it. Toast said that Moore and some of his people are in custody, but sheâs still just suspicious enough that sheâs not going to trust that thereâs not still someone out there with a grudge.
The house looks exactly as she left it. No damage that she can see, nothing out of place, no sign of a break-in.
The officer who had picked her up from the hotel, a relative newbie who she hadnât really worked with much before her injury, seems relaxed enough about the situation. He helps her carry Frankâs carrier from the car and leaves it on the porch as she limps toward the house with her duffel in one hand and Sueâs leash in the other. He asks if she needs anything else, and she tells him no because she can tell the question was more an obligation than any real interest in helping further. He probably has better things he thinks he could be doing than driving her around.
Furiosa glances over her shoulder as he gets back in his patrol car and pulls away from the curb, and then she goes digging for her keys. Sue whines hopefully, tail wagging and nose in the corner of the door. If Frank cares that theyâre home, she canât tell.
âYeah, yeah, okay,â Furiosa says to Sue as she gets the key in the door and unlocks it. Sue noses her way in as Furiosa pushes the door open, and Furiosa follows behind her, tossing her duffel carelessly on the floor inside and dropping Sueâs leash rather than dragging the dog back to take it off. She glances around the room, happy to be back home again and taking in the tidiness of the space. But then her eyes catch something that is definitely not supposed to be here, and she freezes for a brief second.
Thereâs someone standing in her kitchen, his back to her, and Furiosa reaches for her service weapon where she still has it strapped to her leg brace. She clicks the safety off and levels it at the intruder in one quick motion.
âWhat are you doing in my house?â She says dangerously.
The man also freezes for a moment, then turns toward her, a look of surprise on his own face. He looks at the gun, glances behind him as if to make sure thereâs not somebody else in the room she could be aiming at, and then looks slowly back at her.
And then, even more surprising than the fact that heâs simply standing in her kitchen, he sort of⌠fades. The sharp outline of him blurs for a second, his form darkens, and the counter behind him becomes visible through him. It happens a couple times in a few seconds, and then heâs back to being as solid as a person normally should be. Furiosa immediately lowers the gun.
â...Max?â
Sheâd seen the vaguely human-shaped shadow of him before, but was never really able to make out much in the way of features, at least not while looking directly at him. He sometimes seemed more visible out of the corner of her eye, but always faded away when she looked toward him. But now he looks real and solid enough that she had mistaken him for a living person.
His appearance isnât a complete surprise to her, having caught sort-of glimpses of him before, but being able to see him this clearly is still surprising. And a little odd, she realizes, to be only now seeing the face of someone sheâs gotten so familiar with. Dagâs past assessment of him as both cute and scruffy flits through Furiosaâs head, and she canât disagree.
He still looks surprised, and takes a slow step toward her. âCan you⌠see me?â
The familiar voice coming from the manâs mouth confirms it for Furiosa. Thatâs definitely Max.
âYeah,â she answers. âYou look⌠alive.â
Max looks down at his hands. She doesnât know what they normally look like to him, or if he looks any different to himself now than he usually does, and the crumple of his brow when he looks back up at her doesnât actually answer any questions. âPretty sure âm still dead,â he answers.
Furiosa doesnât want to look away, as if heâll disappear again if she does, but standing here staring at him seems to be making him a little uncomfortable. She glances down long enough to reholster the gun still in her hand, and is relieved to find him still there when she looks back up. He sounds real, he looks real, and she knows he can feel real too, and part of her just wants to confirm to herself that he really is there. She steps toward him as her right hand moves to deftly unstrap her prosthetic arm. She deposits it on the couch on her way past, and reaches carefully toward him with her left arm as she steps up in front of him.
Her hand feels tight with the phantom cramps that seem to always want to take it over these days, but not so tight that she canât make it open, and she brings it up but stops with her fingers several inches from his face. âCan IâŚ?â
Max barely moves, but his eyes dart over to where her hand would be as she holds it motionless in front of him. His expression is hard to read, but he gives a faint nod. She slowly reaches the rest of the way to him, unable to see her own arm, but she can definitely feel when her fingertips meet his cheek. Itâs the same as when he massaged the tension out of her phantom arm: warm and real and alive. Max takes an audible breath, and she can feel muscles move beneath her hand, can feel the prickle of days-old stubble, and the faint vibration that comes with the little sound he makes as she slides her palm against his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, his entire body language relaxing, and Furiosa has to wonder when was the last time he felt anything like this. But she wonât ask. Itâs not for her to know. Right now she knows that she can see him and feel him, and it doenât matter if heâs alive or dead, because heâs here.
âItâs good to see you, Max.â
Mad Max: Fury Road // Back From The Dead Halestorm
Yaaaas
Happy Mad Maxiversary
Ride eternal, shiny and chrome, fellow wastelanders.
Mad Max: Fury Road was released in US theaters 4 years ago today.
And Slit, just lounginâ.
A CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE!
holy shit they did it
Trash pandas, the both of them.
Tiredâ˘ď¸
inspired by this post, i had to
!?
Continuation of the ghost!Max AU
So apparently we were kind of breaking things with the ridiculous length of the old post. So. New post. Go here to read the fic from the beginning.
Furiosa is interrupted from her work by a knock on the door and a cheerful âFuriosaaa! We brought your favorite!â
Furiosa looks over her shoulder and starts to haul herself off the couch, but Max is already at the door and opens it slowly for her friends, being careful not to accidentally slam it into the wall. He had nearly broken the glass on the sliding back door a while ago when he opened it to throw the ball for Sue one day.
âThanks, Max,â Dag says cheerfully as she strides inside.
The one Max is pretty sure was introduced to him as Cheedo steps in a little more timidly, her eyes wide. âI swear, thatâs so creepy.â Max lets her close the door herself, if him doing it freaks her out so much. He does click the lock shut when she forgets to, though, which may not have been the least creepy thing he could have done, but heâs not about to leave the door unlocked with people who want to kill Furiosa somewhere out there.
Max then floats through the wall to occupy himself elsewhere as Dag unveils three wrapped fast food hamburgers with more flourish than it probably requires. Dag doesnât seem to mind him lurking around so much anymore, but he knows Cheedo still gets a little freaked out when either Dag or Furiosa talks to him, so he figures heâll just not provide the opportunity this evening.
He waits until he hears the front door close and the voices are gone, then waits a little longer, until he hears Furiosa shuffle off to bed before he comes out of hiding.
As much as heâd rather have Furiosa in his house than some other trespasser who heâll probably like less, he keeps finding his mind wandering back to ways he might be able to scare or threaten her out of this house, if only for her own good. Heâs pretty short on ideas that would actually work, though. Heâd done some pretty awful stuff (intentionally or not) when she had first moved in, and she had certainly not been deterred then, so why would she be any more deterred now that she knows him? He sighs and settles in for yet another long night of nothing but his own thoughts.
Max had never really thought it was lucky that he doesnât sleep anymore - mostly itâs boring as all hell being awake constantly, and he misses being able to dream, even if the dreams he used to have were bad sometimes - but this night he considers himself lucky.
Heâs staring lazily at Sue asleep on her dog bed, feet and nose twitching as she dreams, when a quiet click and rattling catches his attention. It canât be the cat, he always sleeps in Furiosaâs room these days. Max floats through a wall and toward the noise. He stops in the living room and stares at the front door as the handle jiggles.
Quickly Max goes to the front window and peers out toward the door, trying to see whoâs there. Male. White. Twenties. Might be bald, but he canât tell for the black cap over the guyâs head. Regardless, he looks like the same sort that had tried to break in previously, and Max doesnât doubt the same sort that tried to crush Furiosaâs car with a truck.
The man moves around to the back door and Max is momentarily frozen in indecision. The deadbolt on the front door is pretty solid; the back door, not so much. Should he go wake up Furiosa, or stay to make sure this guy doesnât get in?
The guy pries a knife in the door frame, pushing at the measly little latch that keeps the sliding door locked. Max watches the little lever slowly lift, and quickly smashes it back down. The guy grumbles quietly, unaware that that had been anything other than a sticky lock, and tries again. Max flips it closed when he nearly gets it open again.
Truthfully, Max could do this all night, but he figures the man will eventually give up on the door and try to find another way to get in. Probably a more destructive way. He doesnât know if he can keep stopping him, but he does know that if Furiosaâs awake she can have a good shot at defending herself. He flips the lock closed one more time and rushes through the kitchen wall and straight into Furiosaâs room. He shakes the bed violently for a moment, earning a yowl of surprise from Frank and a string of curses from Furiosa, and then he grabs her service weapon off the night stand, drops it on the bed next to her, and flies back through the walls toward the back door.
He had honestly hoped the could mess with the man some more, keep him out just long enough for Furiosa to get out here and see him, maybe get an ID on him, but as Max comes through the kitchen wall, he sees the man already stepping inside and quietly closing the door behind him. The intruder moves straight toward the stove, where he cranks all four knobs, turning on the gas without letting the burners light, and Maxâs eyes widen. Oh no. Nobody blows up his house, especially not with his friend and his dog inside.
He grabs the nearest object, a tea mug sitting next to the sink, and flings it at the intruderâs head. It misses by a few inches and smashes into the wall a good distance past the man, and Max goes for another. This one slams into the guyâs back a moment after heâs jumped and spun toward the sound of the previous mug smashing against the wall, and with a surprised grunt he spins around again to defend himself against his attacker, only to get a third mug right in the face. He stumbles back, dazed but not halted by the hit, and Max rushes forward, focusing only half his mind on making himself solid. He shoves the man back as he passes through him, gritting his teeth against the unpleasant sensation. Judging by the sound Mooreâs lackey makes, it wasnât any more pleasant for him, either.
The guyâs on the floor now at least, and Max goes for the nearest object again - the toaster, not that heâs particularly paying attention at the moment - and lifts it up into the air.
âMax, stop!â
Furiosaâs voice halts him instantly, toaster held high as he looks over to see her standing in the entrance to the kitchen, gun aimed at the man on the floor.
âWhat did I say about breaking my shit?â
the intruder- not any of joeâs goons that she knows, but itâs hard to be sure in the lightless kitchen- takes one look at the gun in her hand and cuts his losses, diving after the toaster slipping through the air to flee out of the newly-broken-open back door. furiosa fires anyway but the bullet lands out in the dark yard, missing by about a kilometer. apparently standing in lopsided discomfort has a way of messing with your aim, go figure.
âthere more?â she asks the vague shadowy area that she thinks is max. the stove keeps hissing out gas until she twists the knobs back down with sharp flicks, glad that at least the shattered glass means the place will air out quickly enough. she doesnât want to think about why it was turned on, about smothering and explosions, her luck in having the muzzle flash from her gun not spark anything off
max doesnât respond, but the shadowâs bobbed its way out of the kitchen and she figures heâs going to check. she should check the rest of the house herself, she thinks, thumb resting on the safety to her gun but not flicking it back on just yet. sheâd taken off the leg brace to sleep and hobbling her way down the short hallways is an ungraceful affair now that she doesnât have the spike of pure adrenaline to fuel her. when she reaches the living room she stops and listens but canât hear anything else in the house beyond the clinking of sueâs tags
âclearâ max says from somewhere near the front door, voice no longer such a surprise to hear coming from thin air. not that itâs really thin air all the time these days, especially in the dark of night like it is now, where she could almost swear she actually does see the figure of a man standing in her living room as exactly as if he is really there
she waits a few beats to be sure, tense and straining for noise and movement, but agrees with his assessment, and flicks the safety before putting the gun down on the coffee table. sheâs been healing, but the stress hasnât done her any good and she leans herself against the back of the couch with a groan next, wishing she could just go back to bed
âdid you break the kettle?â she asks maxâs general direction, the image of her poor toaster flying through the glass door even after sheâd told him to stop flashing through her mind again. she would wonder if heâd done it on purpose except that sheâs pretty sure theyâve passed that particular stage of their relationship for good a while ago
in answer she catches a glimpse of shadowed movement, and then hears from the kitchen the plastic click of the kettle turning on. one piece of good news, then, and she starts levering herself up to get to her phone so she can deal with this before someone gets over-dramatic about hearing a gunshot in their quiet neighborhood
-
max watches the strangers with trepidation
theyâre not local cops but part of the same agency-department-whatever furiosa works at, heâs pretty sure, and while theyâre people sheâs invited into the house theyâre not people heâs invited in, not people he knows or likes or, considering how they allowed furiosa to be left alone with just him as backup, not people he particularly trusts
itâs probably for the best that none of them seem to take any notice of him, but their chatter doesnât tell him anything useful as they go over entry points and footprints and whether they should bother asking the neighbors anything
âoh geeze,â the woman of the pair says, jarring enough that max thinks it was unintentional. âfuriosa, whatâs all this?â
when he focuses his attention on her, the womanâs holding onto a thick stack of printed pages with a sour expression
furiosa shifts in place in a way max knows means sheâs uncomfortable and defensive, and he leans in to get a look at what the papers are- just research for the case, heâs pretty sure
the woman sighs. âi know they havenât replaced your laptop yet so what, youâre accessing classified reports on some civvie terminal? and printing them out? do i even have to say it?â she wags the papers in her hands pointedly and max has to resist the urge to slap them away from her on principle
âlooking at paper saves me a headache,â furiosa says, which is probably a better lie than the truth, that sheâs printing stuff out so he can read it without frying any delicate electronics
âyou shouldnât be looking at it at all!â she says. scraps of paper puff out of the stack when she slams it onto the kitchen table, and max surreptitiously nudges away what ones he can because heâs pretty sure this woman isnât going to leave them here give the chance
âitâs my case,â furiosa nearly snarls, her tense body suddenly looming over the shorter woman as she steps in close
but the woman isnât intimidated, and glares right back. ânot anymore and you know it,â she says. âyouâre on leave for a while yet and after tonight iâd be surprised if they donât kick you off this for goodâ
furiosa takes a breath, and he watches her phantom hand twitch and contort before she deflates. when theyâre alone again- assuming they get to be alone, that she isnât assigned a guard whoâll notice her talking to the air and haul her off to a shrink- max almost thinks he might reach out to commiserate with her about being thrown off cases when itâs the last thing you want
awake and grumpy, sue finally decides sheâs had enough of the commotion inside the house and makes for the back door, despite the area still being strewn with glass and ceramic shards. max canât risk picking her up to carry her outside nor does he want to grab a broom and try to clean up right now, not with strangers wandering around still, so he instead crouches down and herds her away from the kitchen as best he can, eventually shutting her up in the bathroom so she doesnât get out. when he returns the papers have been bundled up under the womanâs arm and she and her partner seem to be leaving, finally
when theyâre gone furiosa lets out a long sigh, and max tries to grab for the broom so he can clear a path for sue. it slips off its hook obligingly enough but then falls down, and his hands seem to keep slipping through it so it clatters against the floor
âi get it,â she says irritably. âi need to clean upâ
max grunts; heâs not trying to make her do things, heâs trying to be helpful. his fingers finally close around the handle of the broom correctly enough to hold on, and he makes a show of starting to sweep up the bits of glass that have been tracked this far into the kitchen
âoh,â she says in a softer tone, and then yawns. âiâm going back to bed, thenâ
he hums in reply, not that it matters whether she can hear or not, and focuses on his task while the sun rises
Furiosa has never been one to sleep in long, and now is not an exception to that rule, even with the lost sleep from last nightâs events. She looks tired and grumpy when she finally limps out of her room that morning and into the kitchen. She starts the kettle for tea, and grabs two slices of bread and hobbles over to where the toaster normally sits before she remembers that the appliance is currently laying out in the back yard. She heaves a heavy sigh, and Max wonders if perhaps it would be best for him to go hide in the basement for a while.
He had finished cleaning up the glass shards in the house last night, and had even attempted to retrieve the toaster, wondering if the broken glass door might have somehow opened up a gap for him to get out. He could be of so much more help to Furiosa if he werenât stuck in this house all the time.
It turned out that breaking the continuity of the house was not the loophole he had hoped it would be, and his hand met the same resistance it always did when he tried to leave. He couldnât even retrieve the damn toaster he had inadvertently thrown, and in fact ended up losing the broom to the outside as well. In an effort to give Sue a fully clear path to go outside without cutting her paws, he had reached the broom outside as best he could and swept the glass out there aside, but in the process he had lost his grip on it, and it had fallen out of his reach. With a grumble he had given up and gone to let Sue out of the bathroom.
Furiosa is staring tiredly out the door and into the yard at the toaster and broom. Max takes the two discarded pieces of bread and puts them back in the bread bag. Heâs betting he fried the toaster in the process of using it as a weapon, which means there would be no toast for Furiosa today. He considers making it up to her by making scrambled eggs (he remembers he used to be pretty good at it), but decides against it in the end. It would probably just result in raw egg everywhere, and he figures heâs done enough damage already.
Instead, he settles for preparing her usual tea as she makes her way outside to retrieve the broom and toaster. She tosses the broom just inside the door before she picks up the toaster and comes back in, inspecting it with a grim expression. Max grabs the broom and hangs it back on its hook, then offers her the mug of tea.
âSorry,â he grunts quietly.
âItâs replaceable,â she answers tiredly, and follows it up with a quiet âthanks,â as she puts the toaster down and reaches for the mug. Her living hand brushes his incorporeal one as she does, and they both jerk back in surprise. Heâs gotten better at not causing unpleasant sensations when he intentionally touches Furiosa or when Sue touches her nose to him, but apparently that still takes conscious effort.
Tea sloshes out of the cup and onto the floor, thankfully splashing through Maxâs legs and feet rather than onto Furiosaâs, and Max mumbles another âsorry,â before putting the mug down and going for some paper towels to clean up the mess. The paper towel roll slips off of its holder and tumbles onto the floor, unrolling far more paper towel than he needed, and Max grunts in frustration.
âItâs okay,â she says. âYouâve helped a lot already. I can get that later.â She picks up the tea mug he had set down and moves over to the table. Max quietly focuses his attention on finishing what he started anyway, tearing off the unrolled length of paper towel and wadding it up to mop up the spill. When heâs done, he floats past her toward the other side of the kitchen, but stops when he notices her eyes following him. He backs up a bit. Her eyes follow him backward, and then she glances away suddenly and focuses on her tea, as if being caught staring at a ghost is a social faux pas.
Sheâs gotten better lately at figuring out where he is and he thinks sometimes that she can at least sense his movement, but heâs never noticed any signs before that she can actually see him. He takes an unnecessary breath to ask, wondering if sheâs actually seeing him now or just following whatever keys her off to his movement, but she opens her mouth at the same time.
âSometimes youâre an asshole, but⌠Iâm glad youâre here.â She glances toward him again briefly as he stands silently, unable to think of a response. âHe could have killed me,â she continues. âBut⌠I feel safe here.â
Max doesnât think too hard about the fact that heâs the reason she feels safe. He doesnât think either about the glow of warmth he thinks heâs feeling somewhere around where his chest should be. Both of those lead to far more attachment than he thinks a dead man warrants, and instead he simply grunts quietly and continues his trip across the kitchen. Thereâs still a broken piece of tea mug sitting against the far wall that he had missed cleaning up.
He glances at her again on his way back to the trash can with the mug shard, and he can tell that sheâs actively smothering a tired smile.
â
The brunt of that dayâs events involve men coming over to replace the broken back door and Capable bringing over the new toaster that Furiosa had asked her to pick up, and then Furiosa settles into a doldrum of boredom and agitation. He doesnât know if sheâs been officially kicked off her case or not, but the papers she had printed out are gone, and she makes no move to replace them. She has the TV running in the background, the volume low, and they both sit idly by, only half paying attention to it as the day drags on. Ironically, the present show is some cop drama, the details of which Max isnât really following.
âI told them about that lead,â Furiosa says suddenly. âDonât know if theyâll do anything about it, but itâs not like I can.â She sighs. âIf they can find anything sketchy about those warehouses, maybe they can get somewhere.â
âYou got a good ID on the intruder,â Max supplies.
âWith me stuck here, that only does any good if they catch him again for something.â
Max grunts. âStill. Could help.â
They settle into a silence, and Max fidgets a little. âGot kicked off a case once,â he finally admits, and he suddenly has Furiosaâs full attention. âGot too involved. The suspects had it out for me too.â He knows that if Dag were here he would immediately be asked if that was how he died, but heâs glad Furiosa doesnât push like that.
âIt got solved anyway,â he says with a shrug he knows she probably canât see. âIt was frustrating, but things were bad then too. They probably would have got me if I had kept at it.â Heâs struck by how silly it feels to talk about his life being saved when heâs dead now anyway, but at least he had gotten a little more time to live.
He doesnât know if that was any kind of reassuring, but when he looks over at Furiosa, she has a sympathetic look on her face.
âYouâre right,â she says with a sigh, then a little smile creeps across her face. âAt least here I have a bodyguard to help me keep an eye out.â
Max huffs a little, but heâs smiling too. âIf you died, Iâd have to put up with someone even more annoying moving into my house.â
âAsshole.â
Max grins.
capable, cheedo, and dag visit the day after the break-in, bearing junk food and some cheesy movie that they insist will make her feel better
furiosa relents and lets them put it on, though she smugly takes over the entire couch to ensure her braced leg is propped up comfortably
max is a dark shimmer of air in the corner of the room, like a shadow that doesnât quite belong. if she looks out of the corner of her eye, she can sometimes see the actual shape of him, the details of his clothes and expressions. once this would have been startling, would have made her go on alert, but now she finds his presence comforting. he doesnât sleep, heâs said, and so she knows thereâs always someone looking out for her and the animals
frank curls up on her lap and stubbornly refuses to purr, but his warm weight is another form of comfort
midway through the movie, her phone rings, discordant against the quiet chatter as the girls talk about something inconsequential. furiosa sighs, and starts to lever herself up to fetch it- max canât touch it without frying it, after all
âiâll get it,â cheedo says, and furiosa feels a hint of embarrassment. sheâd forgotten that just because max couldnât touch her electronics, didnât mean that no one else could
the phoneâs stopped ringing by the time cheedo returns with it, giving the corner max is lurking in a wide berth. furiosa thanks her and brings up the call log, stomach tightening into a knot when she sees itâs the office
âi should call them back,â she says, and capable nods, pausing the movie as if sheâs actually paying any attention to it
toast picks up after the second ring. âfuriosa, good,â she says. âhow are you feeling?â
âfine,â furiosa replies, knowing that toast wouldnât call her during office hours for something as unimportant as a check-up. âwhatâs going on?â
âwe have some new information,â toast says, âlong and short of it is, we need to put you up in a hotel for a few daysâ
furiosaâs eyebrows raise in surprise, her eyes flickering around the living room on instinct. nothing looks amiss, not that she expected differently. âwhy?â
âi canât give details, of course,â toast says, and thereâs the sound of a keyboard clacking, âbut we have reason to suspect that mooreâs goons are going to try and get to you againâ
âtheyâre putting too much effort into this,â furiosa says with a harsh exhale. sure, sheâs the one who broke open the case, but itâs out of her hands now. what do they gain from keeping to try and kill her?
âmaybe,â toast says, âor maybe we donât have all the facts yet. weâve got a pretty good tip-off, though, so youâre being placed in protective custody for a few days while we get this sortedâ
âwhat about my animals?â furiosa says, left arm stroking down frankâs furry spine. the girls are watching her with interest, but theyâre not interrupting with questions
toast sighs. âwe can get a pet-friendly hotel, i guess,â she says. âget to packing, weâre sending a car by in an hourâ
thereâs a lot furiosa would like to ask, but she knows that toast wonât be able to give her answers. now that sheâs had her case access revoked sheâs in the dark completely until things are settled, and itâs hard to swallow
âokay,â she says. toast says her goodbyes and hangs up, leaving furiosa to stare at the phone before lifting her eyes to the other occupants in the room
âsorry,â she says, âweâre going to have to finish this another timeâ
âwhat? why?â capable asks
âi canât say,â furiosa says, âbut iâll be gone for a few daysâ
the shadow that is her resident ghost wavers in the air, but he doesnât speak. not until after the girls are gone, anyway, and furiosa is starting to hobble her way to her bedroom to pack up
âwhatâs going on?â he asks, voice materializing out of the air at the threshold of her door
furiosa flicks her eyes towards him, but the shadow of his presence is gone. âthey want me in protective custody for a few days,â she says. âtheyâre worried somethingâs gonna happenâ
max hums. âsue and frank?â
âcoming with me,â she says. âiâd leave them with you, but if they do something to the houseâŚâ
âno,â he says, âmakes senseâ
thereâs silence as she stuffs a few changes of clothes into her worn duffle, and then he clears his throat and says, âare you coming back?â
that makes her pause, and she straightens back up so she can look directly at where sheâs pretty sure heâs standing. floating. whatever. âyes,â she says simply, with conviction. this place is hers now, or maybe theirs, and either way she isnât going to be driven out by some cut-rate thugs
thereâs a gust of air like a sigh, then max says, âiâll do what i canâ
it shouldnât be comforting, to hear that a ghost is going to be keeping an eye on the place while sheâs gone. but max isnât just some nebulous idea of a horror movie ghost anymore- heâs a person, a friend. even if heâs still an asshole on occasion.
âthanks,â furiosa says
For years Max had dreamed of having the house to himself. And it used to be he enjoyed the times between tenants, after he had scared one out and before they managed to sell the house to another.
But now? Now he finds that being alone is actually⌠not what he wants.
He had gotten so used to Furiosaâs company, had even started really adjusting to the fact that she had no intention of leaving despite him being there, and that was actually not horrible.
It surprises him, to be honest. He had spent so long resenting the living for coming into his space, that the idea of wanting one here feels strange, despite his willingness to admit it to himself.
He keeps himself occupied for a little while thinking about this, about what things could be like if Furiosa stays long-term, and what that means for him. It kind of feels like he could have a chance to almost, almost live again. At least he could pretend, as much as he can. Having someone around who can usually hear him, sometimes sort of see him, and yet doesnât treat him like thatâs all horrible and he shouldnât be here does remind him of what it was like to be alive. His body may never feel alive again, but with Furiosaâs help, maybe his mind can.
With nobody around, thereâs no need to hide in the basement, or up in the rafters of the attic like he usually does when he wants to give Furiosa and her friends some privacy, or just wants to think to himself without distraction. He figures he should stay on the main floor of the house anyway, and keep an eye out for anybody who might come and mess with it.
He roams about, checking windows, making sure things are secure. He floats by the front window and watches carefully for anything suspicious.
He kind of wishes Furiosa had left the TV on for him, but figures maybe itâs better that she didnât. He might not be able to hear someone trying to break in over the noise of it.
By the second day, he takes to cleaning up the house. In lieu of taking care of Sue, he figures he might as well do something helpful while he waits.
By the third day, he has straightened and tidied just about everything he can find that he figures Furiosa wonât mind that he touches.
By the fourth day, heâs really starting to wonder how he used to do it. How did he spend hours and even days completely alone? How did the silence and the emptiness not drive him crazy?
By the fifth day, heâs getting truly antsy. Heâs been keeping an eye outside, waiting for somebody to come and try something, but he hasnât seen a single soul approach the house, other than postal workers. He wonders if he should have been watching more carefully instead of cleaning up the last few days. Maybe he missed something. Maybe they did something when he wasnât paying attention.
He flicks a few lights on and off again to check that the electricity is still working. He briefly turns on one of the burners on the stove to make sure the gas line hasnât been tampered with. And after that, thereâs not a lot he can think of to test to make sure the house is safe before Furiosa comes back. He wishes he could go outside to check the perimeter. Instead, he settles by the front window again, and watches cars and people go by, none of them even stopping to look his way.
â
Furiosaâs stay in the hotel is nice enough, if a little boring. Frank is agitated at being in a new place. Sue, as usual, is pretty chill in general, though even after theyâve settled in, she spends some time occasionally wandering around the small area, as if looking for something.
Furiosa keeps the privacy tag outside her door. Part of protective custody means having someone with her if she wants to go anywhere, and thatâs annoying more than anything else, so she opts for just staying in, only going as far as the lawn outside when Sue needs to go out.
She watches TV, scrolls through pages on her computer, and tries to give Sue some attention now and then to distract her from just wandering around.
Itâs not too different from what she was doing when she was stuck at home, but it feels lonelier. She hadnât really realized how much she had gotten used to having another person around, always having someone to talk to if she wanted to. Or at least having someone around when he wasnât busy moping somewhere out of sight.
Moving into a house that had a ghost had never even been something she would have considered as a possibility before, but now that she has, sheâs become kind of fond of her dead companion. The last few days have solidified that. The quiet and the loneliness have only made it more clear that really, she does like having him around.
Itâs a comforting bonus that heâs willing to keep her - their - house safe, and at least she can relax a bit while sheâs here knowing itâs all in good hands. She likes that house and decided a while ago that she didnât want to move, but she realizes now that Max is as much a part of that decision, if not more, than the house itself.
She doesnât hear a word from anyone about the case, which she has come to expect, but that doesnât make it any less frustrating. She doesnât hear anything about if anybodyâs made an attempt on her home, either, and she just tries to take that to mean that everything on that front is fine.
It has been nearly a week and she thinks sheâs going to go crazy with boredom, when her phone rings. She glances at the caller ID, and she snatches the phone up.
âToast,â she says quickly in greeting, and then immediately tries to tone it down and not sound as desperate for news as she is. âWhatâs going on?â
âCase is closed,â Toast says simply. âYou can go home now. Iâll send someone to pick you up within an hour.â
âDonât suppose you can tell me how it went,â Furiosa cuts in before Toast gets a chance to end the call.
Toast hesitates, and Furiosa expects sheâs going to stand her ground on Furiosa still being off the case, even though itâs done and closed. She hears a small sigh before Toast finally decides to speak. âThe same source that tipped us off to another threat coming your way came through with another tip. That combined with the warehouses you suggested was the key. We have Moore in custody, along with a number of his people.â
Furiosa lets out her breath. Itâs not as much as sheâd like to know, but itâs more than she was actually expecting to get, so sheâll take it.
âPack your stuff, weâll send someone soon.â With that, Toast hangs up.
Eddie and Venom Get High as Shit
Okay, soâonce in a while, maybe, if they have the time, and if Eddie is feeling petty enough, maybe, perhaps, occasionally they might sometimes loot their food.
Theyâve acquired some knives in pretty good condition that way, and a sick ass jacket that Eddie canât even wear outside or sell because he doesnât want to be arrested for murder. And two guns that they keep in the apartment, but Venom wonât tell Eddie where he hid them. And a decent amount of cash.
And now, an unopened packet of gummy bears.
âAwh,â Eddie says when they find it, because gummy worms are the superior shape, and now this guy is too dead for Eddie to explain that to him.
â˘
âDo you think itâs gonna work on you?â he asks as he rips the bag open. âBecause this is really, really different to alcohol.â
THIS IS STUPID, says Venom. WE ARE ALREADY HUNGRY AT ALL TIMES AND OF ALL THE THINGS WE COULD EAT RIGHT NOW, YOU WANT TO EAT THE THING THAT WILL MAKE US HUNGRIER.
âOkay,â says Eddie, âbut you wanna eat âem too.â
Irritation trickles down the back of his skull.
I GUESS, says Venom.
â˘
It is not even ten fucking minutes before Venom says, OKAY.
Eddie continues to scroll through the List of Times People Died in Amusement Parks page on Wikipedia. âOkay what?â
OKAY YOU ARE IN THE PROCESS OF GETTING HIGH.
Eddie stops scrolling.
Actually, he, yeah, now that Venom brings it up, he does feel a little familiar something. âWhat the fuck?â he says.
THAT WAS THE IDEA, WASNâT IT?
âWâyeah, but. Now?â
OUR METABOLISM IS PERHAPS WHAT YOU MIGHT DESCRIBE AS âBANANAS,â Venom explains. I ASSUMED YOU KNEW.
âIâI knewââ A very small pocket of Eddieâs brain is gearing up for full-blown panic. He sits up and looks at the trash can in the kitchen. âI figured thereâs two of us so itâll act twice as slow and be half as strong.â
OH, says Venom. NO, THAT DOESNâT SOUND RIGHT.
âWell, why didnât you say something about it before I ate them all?â
YOU SAID YOU COULDNâT DIE FROM IT SO I QUIT PAYING ATTENTION AFTER THAT.
Eddie contemplates for a minute, lies back down on the couch, sighs, âweâre going to fuckinâ Jupiter, I guess,â and resumes the amusement park death list.
â˘
Eddie unfocuses and refocuses his eye on the digital clockâs LED display. âI kinda feel like we should be at the beach for this,â he says. âYou getting anything now?â
NOT THAT I CAN TELL. Venom swirling around in his body feels real nice, especially when he rubs up against the inside of Eddieâs face. Itâs like stretching muscles he didnât even know he had. Eddie puts his hand against his face and does his best to rub Venom back.
THAT IS NOT HOW OUR PHYSIOLOGY WORKS, Venom says, BUT THANK YOU.
â˘
âWeâre gonna rock! Down! To! E-lec-tric Avenue,â sings Eddie, âand then weâll take it higher!â
ANYTHING ELSE.
âWeâre gonna rock! Down! To!â
EDDIE, I WILL STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN HANDS AND WE WILL BOTH DIE.
âE-LEC!-tri-caa-ven-oo! And thenââ
CAN WE LISTEN TO ANYTHING ELSE.
â˘
The hunger comes on gradually. It kind of occurs to him and then he forgets about it, and it occurs to him and he forgets about it, and then at a certain point he pries his teeth off of the arm of the couch and says, âIs it dinner?â
I DONâT THINK SO.
âI think maybe so.â He pulls out his phone and looks at the numbers. Those are numbers, alright.
EDDIE, IT IS ONLY THREE FORTY EIGHT.
âThat is close enough!â declares Eddie, vaulting himself onto his feet and rounding toward the kitchen. A pile of black goo congeals at his hip and anchors him to the corner of the couch. âHey, what.â
NOT HUNGRY YET, says Venom.
âDonât shit me,â says Eddie, âyouâre hungry always.â
NOT NOW. I AM FEELING PRETTY NICELY FULL NOW, ACTUALLY. I WANT TO SAVOR IT.
âAbsolute bullshit,â Eddie insists, and then he sticks his finger in the goo. Huh. âHuh,â he says.
He presses until itâs knuckle deep, hooks it, and drags a trench down the middle of the mass. The mass repairs itself almost immediately. Eddie grins and grabs a whole squirming handful.
OKAY, says Venom. ACCEPTABLE.
â˘
Heâs gnawing on a mouthful of Venom when he remembers Buffalo Wild Wings exists.
âOgghh mâgohd,â he moans, âyou haânât had winggh yet. I oughâa innadooshyu to winnggh.â
IâM STILL NOT ALL THAT HUNGRY.
Eddie shoves the goo aside with his tongue, and it recedes into the flesh of his mouth. âYou serious?â
ITâS VERY REFRESHING.
A little loop of goo rises out of Eddieâs chest and writhes around itself like a snake with indigestion, but itâs happy. Eddie can feel it being happy. He half-wonders whether itâs the gummies keeping Venom full, but as a thought itâs just not as interesting as the happy little dance he gets to watch right now.
â˘
âAm I still getting higher?â he asks. Bob Ross is painting trees on YouTube and Eddieâs not watching, âcause thereâs a handful of little black worms sliding around on his chest like ice skaters.
Another little worm slides in an arc over his forehead. Tickles. JUDGING FROM THE BLOOD AROUND HERE, says Venom, YOU SEEM TO BE LEVELING OUT.
âOkay,â says Eddie with several heavy nods, âgood, thatâs good, thatâs good, I feel good.â
â˘
âOh,â Eddie moans, âohh, no, no, I donât, I, I donât feel good, I dâVeâm, I donât feel good, I reallyâI doooonât feel good, Veâm.â
THAAAAATâS OKAY, croons Venom, HERE YOU GO. A tentacle nudges Eddieâs head down between his legs so his barf lands in the trash can. Behind him, the window jiggles open and fresh air rolls over his back.
He stares into the soggy mess of trash. The empty fuckinâ gummy bag peers up at him. âGet that gone,â he slurs weakly, and a black thing adheres to the bin and drags it out of his line of sight. âThanks.â
INCOMING, Venom answers. Another dish towel, heavy with cold water, smacks against his face and stays there. Eddie sticks out his tongue on it.
â˘
The little pile of goo squelches out from between Eddieâs fingers. His legs would be jiggling if he wasnât on his back, but as it is, itâs just his feet waving frantically back and forth.
He opens his mouth, lines the words up, and dispenses them in what heâs pretty sure is the correct order: âGihhh⌠gimme another ice tea.â
Venom snatches another bottle from the shrinking twelve-pack on the counter and opens it for him.
âOhhhh,â moans Eddie as heâs wrapping his hands around the bottle, âthannnnks,â and he drinks half the bottle all at once before crashing down on the couch again. A little movement on his chest catches his eye.
Venomâs got another of those worm shows going, but itâs harder to watch now. Eddie shuts his eyes. âUh, oh boy. Iâm, Iâm seeing a lot.â
NOOOOO PROBLEM, says Venom. I CAN DO IT ON YOUR BACK. HOLD ON.
There are two wet thuds, and then Eddieâs hovering over the couch, suspended by thick ropes of goo at his shoulders and hips. Their roots, the places where they connect to his body, creep to the left. Eddie rotates in the air like a rotisserie chicken.
âWhy are you even doing that, anyway?â he asks.
FEELS GOOD, says Venom. LIKE HOW WE IMAGINE THOSE CATS PROBABLY FEEL WHEN THEY STRETCH THEIR BODIES.
Eddie watches the ceiling drift out of his peripheral vision. âWow,â he says. âIs this you, high?â
THIS IS ME HAVING FUN NOT BEING HUNGRY, says Venom, and he deposits Eddie on the couch face-first.
âOh,â says Eddie.
The worm dance resumes, on his back this time, like a shitty little massage.
â˘
âIf I die,â Eddie mumbles into the pillow, âyou need to go to the White House and possess the president.â
A flipper of goo strokes Eddieâs scalp from front to back. YOU ARE NOT DYING, coos Venom, YOU ARE SLEEPY.
âMake him a communist or make him shit his pants and die,â Eddie continues.
EDDIE.
âItâs all up to you, man. Iâll be dead.â
YOU WILL NOT.
Eddieâs head jerks up. âWait, I want the rest of my iced tea,â he slurs.
YOU FINISHED THOSE.
âWwwwww,â says Eddie, and puts his head back down. âWhy not peeing?â
YOU ARE STILL PRODUCING, explains Venom, I HAVE JUST BEEN PUTTING IT ELSEWHERE.
âOkay,â says Eddie, âokay. Donât talk anymore.â
AN IMPOSSIBILITY.
Yeah, fair. âWell, then, talk about something nice, then.â
So, for the rest of the night, Venom tells Eddie all about Eddie.
How about...Eddie and Venom experiencing somewhere outside of San Francisco :D
Theyâre on the Kree battleship for about five minutes before theyâre caught and shot out of the nearest airlock. What the fuck, Eddie thinks, and canât stop himself there, his thoughts circling an endless howling loop of What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.
âStop it,â Venom instructs, from where theyâre trying to pick the lock on the airlock control panel. âYou are distracting us.â Thereâs an awkward little squirm from somewhere near Eddieâs small intestines that makes Eddie think Venom is also a little embarrassed at how itâs making them look, which is stupid because Spiderman plainly lost consciousness about thirty seconds ago, and even though the kidâs only not drifting off into the endless cold and black because theyâve got a tentacle wrapped around one of his ankles, Eddieâs jealous of him. His suit has an oxygen pack. Fucking Stark tech. âWe are better than Stark tech,â Venom says, insulted. âStop overreacting.â
This is not an over-reaction, Eddie protests, suddenly aware that heâs sweating so much heâs shivering. This isâthis is outer goddamn space, V!âSo?â So thatâs not right! Thatâs not where weâre supposed to be, weâre supposed to beâon a planet, on a ship, somewhere with oxygen, anywhere thatâs not theâjesus christ, the literal fucking void.âWe are on a spaceship,â Venom points out, and stomps one foot down on the hull, as if to remind Eddie of the facts of their situation, when he absolutely doesnât need to be reminded. Frighteningly, the hull dents a little under their foot. Weâre on the outside of a spaceship!!!!! Very different from being in a ship, V!!!! Humans are not supposed to be in outer space, or like, like if we are, weâre supposed to wear space suits. Eddie is sweating so much he starts shivering, even totally encased in symbiote. âWe donât need a space suit,â Venom says sharply, and takes control of their reflexes to stop the shaking. âWe are superior to any suit.â
Oh my god, donât get jealous, Eddie says, and feels a hysterical swell of laughter welling up. I justâI need reliable access to oxygen, V. âI am healing our oxygen-deprivation damage, Eddie. You wonât feel a thing. And I donât need to breathe.â Like, Eddie tries. Like also psychologically. I need oxygen psychologically. âYouâre so delicate,â Venom complains. âFine.â The airlock pops open with a hiss. Oh my god, Eddie thinks, delirious with relief. Oh my god, I love you. âYou do?â Venom asks, plainly delighted.
Youâlive in my head! Eddie thinks, and this time heâs the one giving an embarrassed internal wriggle. You know this. âWe still like to hear it,â Venom says, and hauls Spiderman through the airlock, where he lands with an ungentle thunk. Youâre such a goddamn sap. I love you like I love air. Come on, take a breath. Letâs wake the kid up.
They breathe in.
Venom 2: venom eats Eddieâs food and itâs just 2 hours of them not talking
OPâs tags: #cold shoulder style#like#theyâre still Venom but theyâre both being difficult and not talking#Spiderboy rambles#Venom#âI LABELLED IT AS MINE IN THE FRIDGEâ
mo! mo!
more little Venom doodles
I canât @ the scene where Anne is taking Eddie to the hospital and she asks âis he.. talking to you?â and Eddie mournfully gazes out the window and whispers a cracked âalwaysâ ,,, heâs only been there for like a DAY you dramatic bitch