#*reads writing on hand*

[3-aem]

Being on jjk twt even by proxy is a lot like watching a war unfold miles away in the distance with big explosions and fire. Meanwhile ur just like...trying to tend to ur flower bed and grow ur tomato plants but every now and then someone will come and try to conscript u into whatever is going on and ur just like I'm gonna shoot myself in front of u if u don't leave

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[milkcryptid]

do people have no shame anymore?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[aerequets]

but we both know you can't.

I was thinking about the wheeler arc and how twilight was unable to kill yuri because he knows it would break yor. and then i thought that if yuri was the one to find out who twilight was first, it would probably be the same situation but reversed.

many implications .......

[lazylittledragon]

ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????

[inbabylontheywept]

Memories of Grandpa Hank

I'm eating a bag of mormon gorp that tastes like gasoline while watching the rain run down the mountain. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore - all homemade gorp tastes like this. It's just a natural consequence of everyone keeping their prepper shit in their garages. 

My dad's out in the clearing, wandering around with his GPS. He's got some pieces of wire out on top of it to try and make the effective antennae bigger, but it just makes it look like he's dowsing. Another mormon tradition. I ask him if he's close to find water yet, and he looks up at me, little rivers flowing off him, and says yeah - he can feel it. 

I'm sure he can. I settle under my tree and watch the droplets roll down the needles. Awaiting the final judgement of Judge GPS. 

A few minutes later, it provides: 

Turns out my dad forgot to record the location of the car this morning. The GPS remembers where we parked yesterday, but by luck my dad knows how to get from there to our car. Downside is that it's a nine mile walk just to get to yesterday's position, then another five miles to backtrack. That's fourteen miles total. 

I'm only thirteen. 

Think you can make it? my dad asks. And it's a kindness that he's worried, but it's not like there's an alternative. What else would I do, sit down in the murk and cross my fingers he finds me again? Ask him to carry me 14 miles? 

I'll be pretty jelly legged, I say. But yeah. I'll make it. 

Attaboy, he says. He fishes a bag of poptarts out and offers me one as - I think - a peace offering. A, sorry you're gonna have to walk 14 miles in the rain because I goofed kind of gift. 

I take a bite and, despite being individually wrapped, it still manages to taste like diesel fumes. We start hiking our incredibly long distance in terrible weather for foolish reasons, and I joke to my dad that the only way to make this day any more mormon would be by pushing handcarts. 

He laughs. Neither of us laugh again until 11 pm, when we stumble like drunkards into camp. My grandpa has stayed up late to make sure we weren’t lost, but he only stays up long enough to see us arrive. We try to eat a dinner of sweet potato stew, but after falling asleep in the middle twice, we agree to just go to bed. 

I sleep in well past nine and wake up to nobody in camp but my grandpa. My dad left with my sister to keep hunting around 5 am. I know that everyone assumes that their dad is invincible when they're 13, but I'm 28 now and part of me still thinks he's gonna live forever. That God made exactly one perpetual motion machine, and it raised me in the desert. 

---

Around noon my grandpa suggests hunting again. If it was my dad, I'd probably tune him out, but I like my grandpa's style of hunting. My dad hikes and hikes and hikes until the elk get tired and just let him shoot them. My grandpa finds the sleepiest, sunniest, coziest field and takes a nap there, figuring if the elk have any decent taste they'll come there at some point.

Man's got a knack for knowing what elk like - he's right more often than not. I think he might've been an elk in a previous life. 

I go with him, and much as I hate to admit it, the hike is good for me. I start off walking like a pirate on two peg legs, so stiff I might as well not have knees, but by the end of the mile and a half walk I'm almost normal. We make it to the edge of the clearing, and my grandpa finds a patch of grass taller and softer than the beds inside the trailer, and he curls up to sleep there. I look across the grass and I watch the comings and goings of critters through the field. Sometimes I use the scope to get a magnified view, but I never do so with my hand on the trigger. The thought of accidentally looking a person through that glass is something that sends a chill up my spine. 

Some deer wander through the glen, but it'd take a fool to mistake one of them for an elk. A few hours later, my grandpa wakes up and asks if I want to wander around a little. It's a lovely day. Rain comes in bursts in Arizona, and the day after is almost always clear as can be. And for a short while, all the desert browns turn green and lush. Hard mosses turn squishy and cacti swell up like fresh baked muffins and for a while you can get why people settled in these god forsaken wastes. 

So I go with him, and we walk on, me with my gun, him just taking in the forest. He looks so peaceful that I get a little jealous, but it's not until my grandpa stops and looks at me that I even notice it myself. Takes a mirror, sometimes, to know yourself.

Being near my grandpa is always a strange thing for me. He's quiet, and he doesn't talk much, and I don't ever get the feeling that he's particularly emotionally intelligent - but it's like he's interacting with a reality more raw and real than mine. Like I'm watching symbols on a screen and he's counting atoms. And sometimes, just being near him gives me access to that raw matter. Just something about how he is breaks the illusions of the world.

He looks at the gun like a foreign object, like he doesn't recognize it, then he looks at me. He speaks and he doesn't mince words. 

What would you do if an elk came across the path and you shot it right now? he asks. 

Well, I'd start cleaning it, I say, and he waves the words away like cobwebs in his face. 

But would you celebrate? he presses.

And I look at him, and I don't actually see any judgement staring back. He knows the answer, and he's at peace with it. He’s asking so I can see it too. He’s being a mirror so I can see my own face.

I think I might actually cry, I admit. And he nods along in agreement before reaching forward to take the gun off my shoulder. 

Lets just walk today, he says. No chance of killing anything. No worrying about that. 

Right, I say. 

He pops the chamber open and tosses me back my bullet. I catch it, and the relief I feel is palpable. 

Can I change my mind? I ask, and he shrugs.

Whenever you want. Hunt or don’t. It’s not the hunting that I’m worried about. It’s seeing you ignore your conscience.

And for a moment, I'm there in the real world with him, and my gloves are off, and reality is a metal cube in my hand: Sharp and cold and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the bullet.

---

We make it back to camp a bit later than my dad. We get there and he’s waiting for us. If he's tired, he doesn't show it. 

How'd it go? he asks. My grandpa looks at me, and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to explain it, and I am scared. 

Great, he replies. It's a shame Babs only has a doe tag. We saw a five-point out there. Close enough to hit with a football. 

No, my dad says. If his grin was a half inch wider, both ends of his mouth would meet in the back of his head and everything above his tongue would slide off.

Tell him Babs, grandpa says. And, not for the first time, and especially not the last, I try my hand at spinning a yarn. 

It's pretty good. But at 13, I still have a lot to learn.

[liketolaugh-writes]

Thinking about a full ghost Danny AU where he just straight-up dies in the portal. I think there should be more of those. <3

Character death, obviously.

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

The drive back to Fentonworks was a blur in Maddie's memory, keeping Tucker on the line while he sobbed and stammered, trying and failing to keep himself together and explain what happened.

"-doesn't h-have a heartbeat and he's f-freaking out-"

"It just turned on, we don't know w-what happened, he, he said it didn't work-"

"-trying to keep Danny c-calm-"

"Please come home."

Jack's driving was even worse than usual, veering through the streets in an undisguised panic. Maddie hadn't been able to discern much from Tucker's ramble; the portal had finally turned on, but the kids had been messing around with it and Danny had gotten hurt. How hurt? Tucker didn't seem to be sure, but all three of them were in a state.

Jack pulled into their driveway and flung himself out, half the GAV still sprawled across the sidewalk. Maddie was right behind him, hanging up on Tucker with a quick assurance that they'd be right there.

"DANNY!" Jack yelled.

"In here!" Sam called back, from the open lab door. Of course.

Maddie slipped past Jack and got there first, almost falling down the stairs in her haste. What she saw there made her heart stop.

Danny wasn't there. There were three teens crumpled on the ground in front of the activated portal (a part of her sang, it worked, it worked) but Danny wasn't one of them. There was Tucker, staring blankly at the floor, and Sam, with her arm around a strange, glowing white-haired boy that was in tears - a ghost. A ghost? A ghost!

"GHOST!" Jack yelled in delight. The teen sobbed harder.

"Where's Danny?" Maddie demanded. Sam looked up sharply, her eyes wide like Maddie had never seen, her face dead pale under her makeup.

"I'm sorry!" Sam blurted out, looking nearly in tears herself. "I just, I, I thought it would be cool, it was just a picture, I, I didn't think-"

Maddie's heart skipped a beat. "Sam. Where is Danny?"

Sam looked at the crying boy next to her, huddled under her arm as if for comfort. The boy looked up, radioactive eyes swimming with tears and the water on his skin sparkling prismatically, and met Maddie's eyes.

"Mom," he croaked, his voice tripled and echoing with itself like a movie memory. "What happened to me?"

Maddie's knees gave out, and she crumpled to the floor, unable to take her eyes from the ghost in front of her. In a moment, she understood.

That was Danny. His colors had partially inverted, his hair turning white, the colors of his haz-mat suit - God, that was his haz-mat suit, the one they'd made for him and that he never used - reversing to white-on-black. He'd huddled into Sam, shaking and gasping, but now was pulling away, looking at Maddie like- like he thought she could fix this.

"I think something's wrong," Danny said, his voice trembling somewhere underneath all the alien reverberation. "Should we go to the hospital or, or something?"

"I don't think the hospital can fix this, man," Tucker said weakly, lifting his head just to stare at Danny.

The portal powered down with a whine. Maddie jerked her head up with a gasp, and found Jack at the control box, backing up silently. Jack stared into the portal. Maddie followed his gaze.

She couldn't stop the scream that tore itself from her throat. Jack yelled too, running inside, tripping over the bundled cables, and collapsing unceremoniously short of the body inside. Careless of that, Jack crawled forward the last few feet, scooped up the body, and then started to sob, cradling Danny's burnt and blistered corpse against him.

"...Do we call 911?" Danny asked, voice cracking. Maddie's head snapped back to him from the corpse, watching him stare in bleak, lost confusion at his father and the body he was hugging.

Danny didn't even believe in ghosts. Neither of their kids hid it, treating their profession with a lighthearted exasperation at home and plain embarrassment outside. Somehow, the fact made all of this worse.

"What's happening?" Danny asked helplessly. Shock, the stable part of Maddie's brain told her. He sees what's going on but his mind won't comprehend it. (He wasn't expecting to die today.)

"Y-yes," Maddie said at last, and then forced her voice to stabilize. "I'll... I'll call 911."

But first, she held out her arms, and Danny all but scrambled across the room to throw himself into her arms, still shaking. He was cold as ice, freezing through her haz-mat suit, and that was before he slipped forward with a yelp and tumbled through her. He scrambled back with a cry and tried again, and this time fell solidly against her, hiccupping. She wrapped an arm around him, shushing him softly, and groped for her phone with the other hand. She couldn't take her eyes off Jack, now carrying Danny out of the portal and staring from his corpse to his ghost, looking shattered.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My son is dead," Maddie heard herself say. Danny hiccupped and clutched at her tighter. There was a brief pause.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am. Where are you? Have you checked his pulse?"

"We're at the Fentonworks building, 18701 northwest..." She rattled off the address mindlessly, and reached down to fumble for Danny's wrist. He let her have it without complaint, too terrified to put up any resistance. She shuddered as she felt nothing, not even the tendons or bone that should be there. Then she looked up at the corpse in Jack's arms and swallowed. "Jack, h-his... his pulse."

Jack nodded mutely and fumbled for Danny's wrist, gingerly running his fingers down the burnt skin until he found the right spot.

"What do you mean, his pulse, his ghost is literally in your lap!" Sam half-shrieked, her mascara running and her fists clenched against her cheeks, her breath coming in short gasps.

"No pulse," Jack croaked hollowly, staring at Danny's ghost.

"Maybe they could..." No, it was a foolish thought, and she wouldn't put false hopes into Danny's head just to put off her own grief. She cradled him closer again, feeling him shudder. She spoke to the operator. "N-no pulse, ma'am."

"Ambulance and police are on their way," the operator said, calm and reassuring. "Can you stay on the line with me?"

"Yes." Maddie felt numb, her own hands trembling as she held Danny close.

"Thank you. Can you tell me your name? Is there anyone else with you?"

"Maddie Fenton," she said. "My husband is with me, and my son's two friends, and... and my son's ghost."

There was another brief pause.

"Alright, Maddie." Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought the operator sounded gentler there. They thought she was crazy, of course. Maddie shut her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I, I don't know. My son Danny was home with his friends, and they called and..." Deep breath. She started over. "There was an accident in our lab. Danny was electrocuted by one of our in-progress projects."

"Is the device still on?"

"No, ma'am. We had to turn it off to remove the, the body."

Maddie continued answering questions on autopilot, most of her attention on her son, her husband, and the body. Danny had stopped crying, but remained glued to her side, shivering and sniffling. Jack continued to cradle Danny's body, but his eyes were now fixed on Danny, grief spread across his face. Sam and Tucker had both quieted, watching them with fearful, guilt-stricken looks.

It seemed to take forever for the police and ambulance to arrive. Sam got up to show them inside without being asked, staggering up to steps on obviously shaky legs. Maddie was too grateful to insist on her or Jack doing it; with Danny's ghost cradled against her and his corpse in Jack's arms, well...

The paramedics arrived first, sharp-eyed and professional, but the first almost immediately faltered as he laid eyes on the scene. But Jack held up Danny's body beseechingly, his eyes wet and miserable, and they jolted into action.

"Thank you, ma'am," Maddie said to the woman on the line. "They're here now. May I hang up?"

"Yes. The paramedics will take it from here. Take care, Maddie."

Maddie hung up, and looked at the two paramedics as they filed down. They looked at each other, one inclined his head toward Danny, and they split up, one heading for Jack and the body, the other toward Maddie and the ghost. Both of them knelt beside their chosen patient, and Maddie fixed her attention on the one with her.

"Are you Danny?" the paramedic asked, unexpectedly gentle. Danny peeked up and nodded uncertainly, and the paramedic glanced at the body before seeming to make a decision. "Okay, Danny. My coworker June is going to check your body for signs of life to see if you can still be revived. Are you okay with that?" Danny hiccupped and nodded, though a new wave of tears welled up and trickled down his cheeks. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Danny hiccupped again, reaching up to wipe his eyes. "M-my friends wanted to see the p-portal," he managed, voice wavering. Maddie squeezed him, her own eyes welling up while the paramedic listened patiently. "A-and it didn't work so I t-thought it would be f-fine. I went inside a-and I d-didn't check if it was plugged in or anything, a-and then I tripped and fell and I think I hit a button and it turned on!" His voice rose until he was almost wailing. Maddie's throat tightened, and she hugged him closer. Her poor baby.

"You were electrocuted?" the paramedic checked softly.

"I guess," Danny sniffled. "I dunno. It just hurt. And then I felt really cold, and then I..." He looked down at himself and sniffled again, tears slipping nonstop down his cheeks. "Am I dead?"

The paramedic looked at his coworker, who met his eyes and shook her head. Maddie had to swallow a hiccup of her own, trying to be brave for her terrified son. The paramedic did a much better job at it, looking back at Danny and speaking gently.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "There's nothing we can do. June is going to call a coroner and explain the situation-" He caught the other paramedic's eye, and she gave him a nod. "-and we'll have your body taken somewhere it can be prepared for burial or cremation, whichever you prefer." Danny started crying again, and the paramedic exhaled and looked up to meet Maddie's eyes. "Obviously, there's no protocols for this situation. But, as his mother, I think it would still be appropriate for you to make a decision if he doesn't feel able to."

[moon-n-night]

Joxter teaching Snufkin how to talk to animals with his beatboxing skills.

Father and Son bonding that I wish they have.

[feral-ballad]

Zehra Naqvi, from The Knot of My Tongue: Poems and Prose; “A poem for the sixteen-year-old reading in the dark”

[justhereforsomethingnice]

In many fics Danny gets his phd. In many fics Danny is the ghost king. Now I need a fic where just for maybe one sentence, they use the sentence ‘dr. King Phantom.’ For some reason or the other. The title just seems hilarious to me.

[starrystevie]

"what are you doing," eddie mumbles in confusion, hair fanned out on steve's pillow, the moonlight streaming in giving him a hazy halo.

there's a hand on the side of his face and it's cupping his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin. it's soft, so soft, too soft. another hand is trapping his against the mattress, fingers trailing over his forearm before tangling into his own and squeezing tight. it's gentle, so gentle, too gentle.

eddie isn't soft, eddie isn't gentle. eddie isn't making love in a full size bed with wallpaper that matches the drapes. he isn't fluttering kisses in time with fluttering heartbeats and the fluttering wings of butterflies trapped in his stomach like the most lovely cage.

eddie is fucking at 2am when there's enough intoxication to make him look like he's worth it. he's rough and wild, quick and easy. a means to a barely wanted end because he's there and willing and with long enough hair to let people imagine he's someone else.

he should be caged instead of the damn butterflies. he bares his teeth and thrashes his limbs just to fight and see what he can get away with. he laughs loud and brash in the face of sweetness just to see anger, just to see hurt.

he has half a mind to think he's a feral animal that's hardly been trained, performing in some fucked up circus that charges two bucks to see him snarl and hurl insults at anyone who passes by. he bites at the hands that try to touch, try to feed, proving to the onlookers that he's only worth the pocket change they pay to see him.

but steve. he's holding his face like he wants to, holding his hand like it's the most important thing in the world. he's pressing kisses along eddie's jaw without any hurry, without any rush, kissing just to kiss. feeling just to feel. he's like a ray of goddamn sunshine even in the darkness that midnight provides, warming eddie from the inside out.

eddie wants to run. he wants to scream. he wants to feel like he's allowed steve's soft and gentle but he's-

"is this not okay?" and now steve's looking at him with all of whatever he's trying to give him lacing into his face, his eyes and spit slick lips sparkling in the moonlight like a shiny new toy. "do you not like it?"

concern and care are different sides of the same steve shaped coin and if eddie looks hard enough, he can see them blurring together in his frustratingly beautiful sparkling eyes and those damn butterflies start to come back.

"no, it's-" he let's out a sigh, relaxing his tight muscles and sinking into the bed, sinking into whatever steve is willing to give him. "just different, is all. good different, i think."

steve smiles and eddie shakily mirrors it back, before he's ducking his head again and slotting their lips together, fingers still holding tight to eddie's, still cupping his face like it's something precious.

eddie's come to terms with the taste of the metal bars of his cage, teeth wearing down as he tries to bite his way to freedom. maybe this time he'll let himself get used to the taste of soft and gentle smiles if it means loving steve.

[steviesummer]

inspired by and as a direct follow up to this post by @strangersteddierthings:

Eddie is horrified. He remembers the day Steve is referring to, though clearly not as well as Steve does. He calls out as Steve raced up the stairs and hears his door slam.

“Fuck.” He stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He can’t believe things went so bad so quickly. He’s been trying to get to know Steve better, get closer and damn if he didn’t just blow the hole thing. He’d shown up early, told Steve he needed to prepare as an excuse to spend some time with him. Despite everything that happened over spring break, Steve had remained guarded, standoffish no matter what Eddie tried. At least now he knew why. He’d fucked things up before he’d known there was something to fuck up.

He feels even worse about calling him a bully. Sure, Steve had looked the other way and even laughed at some of the mean jokes others had made, but he was far from the worst. That dubious award went to Billy Hargrove, but even without him, there was plenty of people who did far worse than Steve did. Especially because Steve is right. He did hit first, metaphorically at least. He can justify it all he wants as trying to protect himself, but that doesn’t make it right. Steve all but admitted that as he said the same thing. He feels nauseous at the realization that maybe he was just as bad as those he decried. That for all his talk about accepting outcasts and defying convention, he was just as prejudiced. Swallowing hard, he heads back to the dining room and looks at the clock. There is no way he is going to be able to run the campaign today. He’s not going to be able to focus or even play without thinking about how things might have been if he hadn’t driven Steve off all those years ago. He grabs the phone and dials Gareth’s number. “Emerson house, Sheryl speaking.” “Hi Mrs. Emerson, it’s Eddie.” Eddie is proud that he manages to keep his voice even. “Is Gareth there?” “Oh, yes! Let me go get him for you.” “Thanks Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie focuses on breathing while he waits. “Eddie? Hey man, what’s up?” Eddie breathes out. “Hey Gareth. Look, I know its last minute, but we’re gonna have to postpone Hellfire. Something came up.” He could hear Gareth’s frown through the phone. “Postpone? What happened, did Harrington do something?” As if he couldn’t feel worse. “Nah. I’ll explain later, but can you call Jeff and Frank, let them know? I gotta call the freshman, too.” “Alright, but I’m going to hold you to that.” “Fair enough. Talk to you tomorrow.” Eddie promises before hanging up. He weighs his options for how to tell the Party. Eventually, he decides on calling Mike, know that the younger teen won’t push too much. He’s dialing the Wheeler home before he can second guess his decision. “This is Mike.” Eddie feels a rush of gratitude that Mike is the one who answered, rather than Nancy or one of their parents. “Hey Mike, it’s Eddie. Listen, Steve’s not feeling great and having Hellfire here isn’t going to help. Can you call the rest of the Party, let them know we’re gonna move it to another day? I’ll keep an eye on Steve.” Eddie knows Mike is a confused, given how adamant he’s been in the past about not canceling or moving Hellfire, but as he expected, Mike accepts what he says at face value. “Sure. Need us to bring anything?” “Nah, I’ve got it. Pretty sure he just needs some peace and quiet so he can rest. But thanks.” They say their goodbyes and Eddie puts the phone back on the hook.  With that done, he checks that the door is locked and faces the stairs. Now for the hard part. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, if there is anything he can say that will fix this, but he has to try. Even if doesn’t change things between him and Steve, Steve deserves at least that much. Every step feels like it takes effort, chest heavy with guilt, but it only takes him a few moments to get to Steve’s door. It’s closed, which doesn’t surprise him. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking. Nothing. “Steve?” If it wasn’t for the quiet sound of Steve’s breathing he could hear through the door, Eddie would think he had left. He glad that he at least didn’t drive Steve out of his own home. He rests his forehead on the door. “I’m sorry.” Eddie hopes Steve can hear how much he means it. “You’re right, I fucked up. I made an assumption and took out my anger at other people on you. And that wasn’t fair and it’s not okay. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. Even if it wasn’t you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He lets out a hysterical laugh as he realizes - “And despite that, you still humor the kids when they talk about D&D and agreed to let us play here and didn’t punch me in the face, which makes you a better man than I.” He falls silent, listens as Steve’s breathing slows. He isn’t sure how long he stands there. He wonders how many other people he hurt this way, without even realizing. Knows he wants to do better, be better. He sighs, feeling his shoulders slump. “Anyway, I canceled Hellfire for today. I told everyone something came up, don’t worry about that. I’ll make up some story, make sure they know its not your fault. And uh,  let me know if you want to hang out again or something. I know I’ve been around a lot; didn’t realize that I was making you so uncomfortable, which is probably another thing I should apologize for. Anyway. Yeah. I’ll see you around, okay?” He waits a moment for an answer, but when none comes, he backs away from the door and walks downstairs to gather his stuff. It hurts, but he knows Steve deserves space and to be the one to initiate contact. He has some thinking to do, anyway.

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he still dreams of you and wishes for another chance to make you his, some lines are inspired by hakujitsu by king gnu

warnings: reader is rather lively/bubbly,

notes: TYSM FOR 100 !!!, a/n (yapping) in tags

wc: 1800

Hoshina Soushirou still dreamt of you. Every once in a while, you’d come to visit him in his sleep and it would make him believe that a miracle had occurred, that he had another chance. Every time, he would tell himself that he would never let this go, that he would give it his absolute all this time.

Yet, every time, he would wake up from this dream.

And every time, he would feel his heart drop at the realization of that. He was disappointed, and he knew, but there was no reason to be. It wasn't like anything had happened between the two of you. He liked to believe there was something going on— something more than mere acquaintances or friends, but he knew there wasn't. It must've been all in his head because the last time he had heard of you was before you were moved to the first division. He hadn't heard a single word from you since then, nor has he said anything— but that was just the way it was. There was nothing to do at this point anyway.

He wasn’t with you for all that long, and it was probably just the fact that both of you joined at the same time that naturally started the first conversation. He was far more weary of everything and far less cheerful at the time, and you didn't even work with him most of the time being a researcher, but you didn’t mind that one bit. If you had something you wanted to say, you would tell him and he’d just have to listen. At first, he had no idea why you kept talking to him when he paid hardly any mind, but after a while, he found comfort in your conversations. He had started to look forward to talking to you.

It had only been a few months before the defense force noticed how spectacular your work was and quickly called you over to the first division. There wasn’t a tearful farewell, or even a casual goodbye for that matter. You disappeared along with a cheerful ‘I’ll see you around!’ while you were moving your boxes out and he would hear those words ring in his head for the years to come— in your voice. Yet, at the time, all he could do was force a smile and nod.

It had been so many years since you had moved, he didn’t even know what you looked like now. Probably still stunning. Definitely still stunning. Although he had the chance to see the 1st division officers a lot, you were a researcher who worked behind the scenes. Naturally, there was no reason he'd bump into you, and he didn’t. He never did.

He loved to remember you, but he hated to think about you. He loved to remember the way you would laugh at his silly jokes, the way you would ramble on about the work you had to do daily but would still put in your all, and the way you would always visit him with some cold tea when he trained late into the night if you were still up as well. Actually, he hated thinking about the tea— it would make him start thinking about you. He would think about how you were now, if you were still pilled with work, and if you remembered him.

If he bumped into you, would you remember his name? Maybe if he cracked a lame joke. Maybe if he gave you a few days to think about it. Maybe if he started listing the things you talked about— his most treasured memories. Maybe then you’d say his name again.

See? This is why he hated thinking about you— he had things to be doing.

It wasn't like this happened everyday and it wasn't that big of a deal. It just ruined his day a little when it did happen. So if he had to say, he hated dreaming of you.

As you took over his thoughts again, the emergency alarm started to buzz, as if to tell him to snap out of it. He was thankful, he couldn't still be daydreaming like this.

A smaller-sized identified grade kaiju had appeared near the first division quarters, so the third division was doing more backup work this time. Hoshina was taking care of the smaller kaiju in the vicinity that had spawned from the presence of the honju. It felt nice for him to be doing work, it took his mind off his ramblings and cleared his head. He wasn't too worried about the honju, however. Although it was an identified grade, it wasn't anything they hadn't dealt with before and as much as he liked to tease Narumi about how he was always better at smaller kaiju neutralization, he knew Narumi was extraordinary at what he did.

At least that would have been true for any other kaiju of that size and strength, but Narumi seemed to be struggling far more than expected with this one. From his earpiece, he heard Okonogi notify him that the 1st division was asking to send Narumi some help if possible, and he immediately rushed over.

Yet, by the time he got there, Narumi had already neutralized the kaiju in question, although horribly beat up.

“I don't need your help, Hoshina!” Narumi still managed to yell while on the floor, absolutely bleeding out.

“Oh, shut up, do you want to die?” Hoshina asked. It didn't take an expert to see that Narumi’s condition was concerning.

Narumi soon fell quiet, probably unconscious, while Hoshina found his earpiece lying on the floor near him. He picked it up, hoping it'd connect to the first division just in case they had lost connection to his vitals.

“He's unconscious right now, but he seems to still be breathing. However, he's bleeding dangerously from multiple spots. I think a few ribs might also be broken,” Hoshina said. “There aren't any kaiju nearby at the moment and I'll take care of them if any do come— bring the stretcher right away.”

He waited a moment, but there was no response from the earpiece.

“Hello?” he asked, hoping for a response. After another moment, he heard it.

“Hoshina…?”

It was you. He would still recognize your voice from anywhere. Oh, how he missed you. His eyes were wide and he had nothing to say all of a sudden. You remembered him. You recognized his voice.

You remembered his name.

“Thank you for your report, we lost connection to some of his vitals halfway through. The medics should be there in a few minutes,” you said.

“I'll stand by,” Hoshina said and kept Narumi's earpiece in his ear. He had nothing he wanted to tell you, not one thing in mind, but he wanted to be on the line with you— even in silence. The medics came in a few minutes like you had told him and took care of Narumi right away.

“They got here, he should be fine now,” Hoshina said, as if you didn't already know. He just wanted something to say to you.

“I missed working with you,” you said and he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps he'd wake up from this dream again. Perhaps he'd open his eyes and be utterly disappointed again. But he knew there wasn't even a hint of romantic affection in your words, just the respect you've always had for the work he did, and how you missed doing this job with him. And he did too.

“Yeah, I did too,” he said. “I still do.”

You chuckled a little and he could still picture you smiling. “That made my entire year,” you said. “Probably not the time for this, but we should catch up sometime. If you don't mind, of course.”

Made your year. What did you mean by that? And If he didn't mind? Oh, you didn't know how many times he's dreamed of this day.

“I'd love to,” he said. While he was a little embarrassed to imagine the rest of the first-division team hearing this conversation, that was not going to stop him. He'd be an absolute fool to let this chance go. He has promised himself to give it his all this time.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked quietly.

“Sorry?” you asked, hoping he'd repeat that. You heard it, but you were afraid you were so delusional you were starting to hear things. Your heartbeat quickened and you waited patiently, hoping it wasn't all in your head.

“Do you have a lover?” he asked a little more clearly, but obviously still nervous and flustered. You had never seen him like this, ever.

“No,” you replied, a little too quickly. “I do not.”

Relief washed over him and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Oh, thank goodness you didn't have access to his vitals. He was going to make you fall for him somehow.

“…do you?” you asked quietly, after a moment.

“Me?” he asked. “No, I don't.”

“I see,” you said, but he could hear the soft delight in your voice. He would never miss it.

Perhaps he'd just go for it. There was nothing for him to lose at this point, and he had made his feelings plenty obvious already. If you didn't want him, he'd just try again. He's tried countless times in his dreams already, what's a few more?

“But I'd love to be yours,” he said and heard you gasp quietly. That one he couldn't read. Was that a little too bold? Far too sudden?

“Did I hear that right?” he faintly heard you scream, asking your fellow first division coworkers. That made him laugh, you hadn't changed one bit. “I’ve loved you forever, Hoshina.”

There was absolutely no way. He was going to wake up soon, he just knew it. Well, might as well indulge in the dream for now, then.

“I've definitely loved you for longer,” he said.

“Hoshina, I'm going to kill you if this is a dream,” you said, and that caught him off guard. Yet, even that sounded nice to him, and that made him smile. He'd get to see you, at least.

But it wasn't a dream. The way your voice fluttered his heart could never be felt through a dream. The way your laugh filled his soul could not possibly make him feel so warm through a mere dream.

“I cannot wait to see you,” you said softly, your voice so full of love it made him melt.

He couldn't either, but that wasn't exactly what he had on mind this entire time.

“And I cannot wait to kiss you.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Call that a Cave Story.

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[purpleelephantsocks]

Oh god, oh fuck, oh no; the parallels between Jean at the beginning of tsc panicking and telling Wymack "I want to go home" and Jean at the end of tsc falling apart after finding out his baby sister has died, telling Neil the same thing.

"I want to go home."

He is only nineteen