#I think the stuff just happens thing might be to mimic real life where stuff just happens

[mushroomsie224]

I watched Kiki's Delivery service yesterday and, cute movie and all but the plot...is...uh? I mean, the first half was cute, it was nice, but it got confusing after the part with the dirigible, with Kiki losing her magic and then the whole thing with the artist and then her suddenly having to save the boy from the dirigible...I'm...just left confused. It was fun to watch, but I'm not sure how one would describe the story??? Stuff just happens.

[lunacornfan2k24]

You seem young so I’m going to try and explain this.

Firstly, yes it was written to be a kinky thing. There’s this thing called Consensual Non-Consent (CNC) which is where people roleplay being in those situations in an environment that feels safe with someone that they feel safe with.

That is what reading Docking Bay 2 is supposed to be. Yes it’s non-con but it is no more than a fantasy with two fictional characters that you consented to read. My works cannot physically harm people. Mentally and emotionally, maybe, but that’s why I included warnings when I posted my fic.

You read the warnings I provided to warn people of what they were going to get when they clicked on the fic and consented to read it. The website even explicitly made you consent to the fic when this popped up:

And you couldn’t have read the fic without hitting “Yes, Continue”. It also showed every warning that I had on the website too. You consented and then continued to read it once you had the warnings confirmed.

Yes they are in fact warnings. I know this stuff is not everyone’s cup of tea and may mimic possible traumas in the past or just things that make people uncomfortable. I am not romanticizing actual real life non-con in any way nor do I feel anything but disgust and anger when it happens to anyone in real life and I’m appalled that you would think otherwise.

When you’ve been told that getting pleasure from sex is bad or that your sexual desires are something that you should be ashamed of, the idea of being tied down and losing agency can be arousing. Its a bit like “all my life I’ve been told sex isn’t pleasurable so I can’t find pleasure in this” being met with “I’m going to make you feel pleasure so you might as well lay back and enjoy this.”

Again that’s not everybody’s cup of tea which is why I tag. But it is why our grandmothers read books about damsels being whisked away by handsome pirates back when the female orgasm was a myth. While there still is this stigma for female pleasure, it’s largely gone.

However, in modern day, if you’ve been told that a woman feeling sexual attraction to another woman is wrong, wouldn’t you feel a similar way to your grandmothers? Would it be so bad for an evil woman to tie you up and grant you pleasure and there’s nothing you can do about it?

One thing you mentioned in the discord is that non-con is illegal. Very true and I hope it stays that way.

You know what else is illegal in a lot of countries?

Being gay and being trans. Are we supposed to not write gay or trans people because it’s illegal?

You’re a John Juniper fan but you know what else is illegal?

Kidnapping people, impersonating them, and intentionally firing nukes at the world.

But you still love the character because he’s fictional. He didn’t kidnap real people, he didn’t threaten to blow up the real world, and Solaris didn’t tie up a real person in Docking Bay 2

There is a difference between the fictional world and the real world, fictional non-con and real non-con.

I am sexualizing non-con but in a fictional way where it’s a safe space where no one gets hurt as long as people heed the warnings.

I accept your apology for bashing the fic in the discord as long as you don’t do it again with any other fic.

However, you’re still villainizing me for writing something that you didn’t like even though you knew you wouldn’t like it after I warned you so I can’t in good conscience accept your full apology. If non-con fantasies aren’t for you, that’s okay but don’t falsely judge me because it makes you uncomfortable.

My words may change your mind, they might not, but next time don’t read a fic you know you won’t like

[shroudcore]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (III)

Summary: You successfully convinced Eliza to stop the wedding. Unfortunately (or is it really), Eliza has come to a solution that she thinks would be best for everybody and it’s happening no matter what. 

Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

As if by some miracle, he was still standing—even after you failed to convince Eliza how unnecessary a wedding would be. Now face-to-face with you on the altar, he still couldn’t believe how things turned out. This wasn’t  supposed to happen in real-life. Things like these were the stuff of movies. Or anime. Or dating sims. 

Ace, Epel, Rook, and Riddle were freed at your request. They, along with Ortho, were now arranging the paralyzed students into chairs, since Eliza refused to let them move for disrespecting the “couple”. When you ran out of excuses, some heavily opposed the impromptu wedding. Idia knew why: he wasn’t the only one in NRC who liked you like that. He’d been aware of some schoolmates’ attempts to romance you for a while now. Really, all you had to do was pick a route. 

How did he know, you might ask? It’s not like he secretly researched and listed down his competition so he could keep an eye on them. 

Alright… maybe he did. Heat crawled up to his neck at the thought of anyone finding out. 

“So… we’re getting married,” you said, pulling him out of his thoughts. You spoke slowly, as if testing the words in your mouth. Like him, you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fake wedding just yet. You fidgeted more than usual—barely looking at his face or talking to him since you joined him at the altar. 

Were you thinking of the same thing? The inevitable kiss after you say your vows?

A weak hum was all he could manage. A smile appeared on your face, showing that you understood. You didn’t tell him to speak up; you never told him to. Somehow, the sight of that smile put him at ease like a recovery potion after a Despair battle ailment. It felt like another day in his room, the two of you hanging out and eating candy. 

“Nice suit, by the way.” 

“Th...anks?” Idia turned his head to the side. If he looked at you any longer, he might combust. Not that he didn’t already. Which was embarrassing btw.

You inched closer, making him gasp and jump back as multiple alarms went off in his head. Really… mind the Personal Space Bubble! Oh wait… that’s right. He’d stopped telling you off for getting too close long ago. 

Your face flashed a look of surprise, which quickly faded into concern as you observed him. When you whispered, your breath grazed his neck and ear. Hopefully his shudder escaped your notice. 

“You okay?” Immediately, you backtrack. “Wait, that was stupid. I know you’re not.”

“So many people watching...” he mumbled. His eyes quickly scanned the hall. “I can’t do this.” And he ended it there. You didn’t need to know how he felt about marrying you.

Again, you understood. Your smile faded and Idia found himself missing it immediately as it went. 

“Sorry, I...” you look down, fiddling with your fingers again. “I really should’ve tried harder to stop this.” 

Idia silently wished for dialogue options, because he didn’t quite know what to say to that. However, it looked like he didn’t need to. You took his hand and squeezed it, a determined fire flickering behind your eyes. 

“This’ll be over soon. Just hold on,” you said, squeezing his hand. “It’s just another quest, player 1.”

At the familiar nickname, he smiled in spite of his thumping heartbeat and everything that had happened. “Let’s do it, player 2.”

“Let us proceed with the ceremony!” Eliza, who had been watching the two of you closely, was eager for the wedding to commence. She clasped her hands in anticipation, looking no different from a normie watching a Rom-com. At her command, the wedding music played again—the same one as before. You gave Idia a look and shrugged. 

“Can’t believe we’re getting married to this music...”

“Sounds like doom, doesn’t it?” 

“Isn’t that what marriage is? Doom?” 

“Haha! E-exactly…” Normally, he would’ve agreed wholeheartedly. This time, he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how you felt marrying him. 

The ghost officiant returned to the makeshift altar (maintaining a good distance from you). Each NRC student who had the misfortune of attempting a proposal sat in a chair, watching the event. You smiled reassuringly, eyes sparkling like embers. 

“We are gathered here today to unite these two lovers in the bonds of matrimony,” the officiant begins. The darkness of the hall gave him quite a sight: the flickering flames of his hair illuminating your face in blue light. Seeing it, when in the safety and darkness of his room, made him feel this warm, fuzzy feeling he thought was reserved for 2D characters. 

“Do you, Idia Shroud, take … as your lawful spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward—for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, keeping yourself solely unto them for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer " I do". 

This’ll never happen in real life. “I do.” I don’t have a chance, do I?

Confessing would only ruin the bond he had with you. If it meant never losing your friendship, then this fake wedding would be enough. 

He looked at you, standing in front of him as you were about to say your own vows and silently implored Mnemosyne to burn this scene into his memory forever. 

“Do you take Idia Shroud as your lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward—for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer "I do."”

It seemed that you were doing the same. Idia faltered under the intensity of your gaze. “I do.”

“I now pronounce you as spouses. You may now kiss!”

Here it comes. CODE RED! CODE RED!

The way Idia’s face burned rivaled that of his hair. He was becoming hyper-aware of the snickers coming from his schoolmates. Seeing you made him worse—the corners of your mouth twitched and your shoulders shook as you fought back a laugh. 

“Hey! We’re about to kiss and you’re laughing?!” he cried, covering his face. “Kill me now.”

Just like that, your quiet and tender moment was gone. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Covering your face like he did, you erupted in giggles. Peeking out from the gaps of his fingers, Idia thought about #3 from the Signs of Attraction list he found on the Internet: 

“Another unconscious sign of attraction is mirroring, or matching another person's movements. When people are interested in one another, researchers have found that they tend to mimic each other's movements and gestures.”

Nah. Can’t be. He would have thought it was cute, if you weren’t laughing at his expense. 

“S-sorry! Your hair’s just—” another round of giggles interrupted you. “...burning really brightly!” 

“I can’t help it, okay?” he said, face red from annoyance and of course, the thought of what you were about to do. “Stop!” 

You tried to stop, but just the sight of his red face and hair sent you into another round of wheezing laughter. So hard you laughed, that an inhuman sound came out of you. Immediately, you stopped and looked at him, eyes wide. 

But it was Idia’s turn to lose it. 

“You… sound like… a Minecube pig!” he said, each word punctuated by uncontrollable peals of laughter. The wedding attendees had no choice but to watch on as you and your groom wheezed at the altar instead of kissing. 

“Baaya, what is wrong with them?” a confused Eliza asks. 

“I do not know, but it is apparent that they were made for each other.”

It wasn’t until the annoyed officiant cleared his throat that you and Idia stopped. You straightened up, wiping tears from your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. It was only then that your expression turned serious, but not without a few traces of your mirth from a few seconds ago. 

“Idia, we don’t have to—I’m really, really sorry about this, okay?” you whisper to him. “I know how much you value your firsts…”

“It’s fi—”

“...not that I’m assuming you haven’t had your first uh, kiss yet but—oh god, I uh… ” 

No dating sim—nothing could have prepared him for this situation. But strangely, laughing his ass off with you gave him a spark of courage that he rarely ever felt. In a moment, he would be kissing you. He hopes that courage lasts. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Idia surprised even himself with how steady his voice sounded.

“Oh…” 

You were still, staring at him open-mouthed for what seemed like a few minutes. He stared back, until you were forced to avert your gaze to the ground. Something told him that he was doing something right. A lone voice from the audience chanting “Kiss!” pulled the two of you back to reality. Someone was making an obnoxious kissing sound. Neither of you dared to look and see who it was. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the ghosts joined in on the chant. 

Shyly, you lifted your head back up. “O-okay. Here goes nothing!”

He tried recounting how first kisses were described by people on the Internet, from his manga, and the countless dating sims he played. Some said there were fireworks. Some said it felt electric. Some described the feeling as the rest of the world falling away. One swore it made them feel like the ground disappearing beneath their feet and before they knew it, they were floating. 

Should he close his eyes? Which side should he tilt his head? Where does he put his hands? How exactly do you kiss? Questions, panicky thoughts, and movie kissing scenes ran through his head like a computer reading code. When you leaned in, someone pressed ‘mute’ on the sounds in the hall and all that was left was him and you. 

When you held his face in your gloved hands, it was Error 404. He let his eyes flutter closed. When everything went dark, all he felt was the shy, feather-light brush of lips against the corner of his mouth. Not quite on his lips, just dangerously close. 

Purer than a first kiss, but more than just a friendly peck. The students of NRC witnessed Idia’s hair at its most fiery just the same. 

~~

To be continued. 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA Characterization hard

Hehe, hope you liked this. Part 4, the finale, coming soon. 

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: August 8th

Well, doing big posts all together worked for a while but lately I’ve been putting it off because it takes a long time to get them done. I think I’m gonna try switching back to answering asks whenever I can fit it in and posting them one at a time instead of waiting until I’ve filled out one of these major collections.

But for now, here’s more ask answers! Thank you for the questions and for all the kind words along with them ^^.

Hello!! I'm here to ask if its possible to get  the game and its dlcs on steam and play it on android?

I’m afraid not. Steam doesn’t have Android builds on their own site and Steam is not cool with keys for other sites being given out for Steam purchases, so you don’t get the Itch version from buying on Steam.

Hello! Sorry to bother you but, I had a question, if we buy the Game on itchio do we get steam keys or would we need to purchase it twice? 

You would have to buy it twice if you want it in both places, I’m sorry. To repeat myself a little, Steam doesn’t like the key trading thing. Itch may support giving keys for another site, but the reverse isn’t doable with Steam and Steam doesn’t even really want you to get a Steam key for buying somewhere else either. So we just don’t mess around with that.

hey, sorry if this is frequently asked, but is step 4 free dlc or paid for? some of your sources are contradicting each other. 

It’s free! There’s a paid wedding DLC, but Step 4 itself is entirely unpaid.

Hello! I just had a quick question, for the Baxter and Derek DLC's will we be able to confess our feelings to them or let them confess to MC? or will it only be one way? (they confess to MC)

Both type of options will be available!

Hey there! I wanted to ask whether or not the Derek DLC is still on track to be released in August since on the steam discussion board it says it will be released mid 2021. I totally understand if it isn't, I'm just really looking forward to it! If you answer then ty! And keep up the amazing work :D 

It’s not, aha. Unfortunately, 2021 wasn’t easier than 2020 as we hoped so things are still slower than planned. It’ll come out late 2021 or early 2022.

Hi! Firstly I just want to say that I LOVE Our Life. I have played a bit of similar games but this one instantly wins for the best one! Everything about it is amazing! I just wanted to ask if Derek would ever lose feelings for MC, like if they make the deal and then MC gets with Cove would he move on? and even if you don't, after "losing contact" would his feeling fade or would he still like MC? 

If you don’t really keep in touch with him and clearly move on with your life, Derek will too and he’ll be over it. But if you are still close as best as you can be, he’ll still think the MC is special. Though, he’ll always support your relationship with someone else if that’s what’ll make you happy.

Hello! Sorry if you've answered this before but: 'How's Lee related to us? Though which momma? And does she share our player-chosen last names? Also, do you know if Noelani took Pam's last name or did it happen the other way round? 

She’s related to Pamela and Pamela’s last name is the one they use, so the MC has the same last name as Lee.

Will we be able to choose which (they or he) we tend to call Qiu by more often, or will it randomly change depending on the moment? 

Qiu knows which pronoun they’re comfortable with at a time and you’ll call them what they’re happy with. And it doesn’t change between lines, it takes multiple scenes or even full Steps for it to switch. So for extended periods Qiu will be totally a guy or fully agender.

Will Step 4 of OL2 have moments?

It’ll be an epilogue like it is in OL1, so it won’t have a bunch of different Moments.

Hello! Just a quick question, is Sunset bird from OL1 based on a real location? If so what's it called? I wanna visit it +_+

ps i love your games so much <3

It isn’t based on one specific town you can go to, but there are a lot of little coastal towns in Cali that have a similar vibe!

Heyaaa ( I hope you're all well ), umm… it might seem kinda stupid to ask but did Patreon members can have a key for the dlc's ( all the steps-released dlc ) even if they became a member this month or later ? (me? saying this cuz it's my case? maybe ;-;), and once again thanks for absolutely all the amazing works on all the games ! u-u 

You wouldn’t get the DLCs for backing there. The Patreon is for extra bonus content/early access, rather than being a storefront to purchase the normal DLCs. Rarely we give them out as a side gift, but it hardly happens and if what you want is the DLCs it’s best to ignore the Patreon and  buy keys for those directly from Itch or Steam. I’m sorry for the confusion.

Hey y'all, love what youre doing w/Terry. Trans rep outside of player customization is so rare and important to see more of so thank you so much. I do have a question and its that does he have a canon sexuality? I know Miranda was said to be straight ace but I dont believe anything was stated for Terry probably because he wasnt revealed to be a guy which changes things. Im also curious if well get answers on how long hes liked Miranda since he may have liked her in step 3 before she liked him 

Terry likes women and Randy likes men! And he did like Miranda back in Step 3.

Will the Wedding Dlc release at the same time as Step 4? 

They’ll come out separately with Step 4 releasing first.

I really love Our Life so much! I've spent over 20hours playing it even though I only got it a week ago! I was wondering if I could make a fangame for Our Life with a different love interest but same plot. Next-door neighbors romance, multiple steps, etc? I'll probably make it on Google Slides though- 

Sure! I hope you have fun with it and I’m glad you love the game.

How does Cove feel about poly relationships? 

He’s got nothing against them for the people they work for, but he’s 100% monogamous and would only be comfortable with a partner who was willing to be monogamous with him.

Idk if this has been answered before but will Step 4 include the option to advance your feelings towards Cove? 

Yep, you’ll be able to determine your feelings and what your relationship is.

In step 4 will there be a chosen to say we live with Cove even as just friends? 

Yeah, you can choose to live with Cove and that can be done when you’re friends.

I just played the game with the MC and Cove being best friends and omg it’s still so damn cute like the wholesomeness of it all is too much for my heart I swear ^.^  Now with that all said I was wondering can we still marry Cove? if we only love him as a friend like let’s say we’ve made deal with him similar to the one we can make with Derek because let’s real no one could compete with what the MC and Cove have even if they aren’t in love. 

It’s great to hear you enjoyed the friendship story! You can live with Cove, but you can’t marry him platonically. Cove has familial affection for the MC if they’re best-est friends. He wouldn’t think to marry someone he loves like family and even grew up with as though they truly were siblings.

Are you still going to be making a DLC for XOBD? :] 

Yes! We’re slowing adding voiced lines and fixing errors.

It makes me laugh that Shiloh's last name is Fields because that's what I put as my last name! So in Our Life when he talked about "Ms. Fields" picking him up I was extremely confused, lol. That dude mimics personalities so much that he stole my surname!

Oh, wow, that’s a very funny coincidence, haha.

hi !! i cant seem to be able to get the scene where mc is able to propose to cove despite being at the 'love' stage and telling him i'd want to get married, are there any other details that im missing out on? the options just dont appear at the end... 

Maybe you missed telling Cove you were in love with him even if you mentioned wanting to get married or you might’ve accidentally said earlier in the game that you don’t want to progress your relationship further with Cove. We haven’t removed them, so you can get the scene again. It’s just kind of easy to miss since there’s multiple requirements. You can read a little guide in the FAQ.

wait what di you need to do to be able to propose to cove? I've been trying but haven't had much luck 

You can check out the FAQ linked above!

does cove only develop a crush on the mc if the mc is also at crush/in love with him? 

Technically, yes. We treat the non-romantic relationship options as truly non-romantic since we don’t want to bait and switch people. But there’s nothing wrong with headcanoning that Cove does have feelings developing for the MC even before the MC has.

Is there a way to make/allow Lee and Baxter to date?

No, they just don’t have enough time together.

We also got a group of asks related to Tamarack in OL2, but I’m afraid the way they talked about people with larger bodies made me not want to post their words, even if the person didn’t say they’re trying to be hurtful. I will separate out the core question and answer it though, so people can know that info.

Does Tamarack lose weight in later Steps?

No, she doesn’t. As for the other questions included, to be honest, I don’t have to explain/defend having romance options of different sizes. I’m sorry if you’re dealing with unhappiness that’s connected to body image, if that’s where the negative emotions are coming from, but even so I can’t meet you on that level and pretend it’s a problem that needs an answer. A girl who simply isn’t thin being a main love interest is just not an unreasonable concept. Also, Tamarack isn’t a lesbian. Yes, she can date a female MC, but that doesn’t undo her actual sexuality, so I’m not sure where that one part at the end was coming from.

I wonder... can we "fight" with Qiu over leader status? 👀

Not really, haha. No matter how cool your MC is, they’re never gonna replace Qiu for the other kids around. So you can either partner up with him, follow him too, or not be a part of all that group politics stuff.

So when I play the game, sometimes I mentally call Cove “Covie/Covey” and that made me wonder, how does Cove feel about being nicknamed? Not like Romeo/Space Cadet/etc. but like pet names relating to his actual name

It’d depend on his age, personality, and your relationship with him! When he’s younger he’d probably be embarrassed, when he was grown he’d probably be more casual or happy about it.

will you be able to date baxter in step 3 while at crush with cove (but not dating him ofc) sorry if this has been asked already. i really love baxters step 4 design btw!! 

Yeah, you can be crushing on Cove and date Baxter if you weren’t already dating Cove. You just can’t be truly in love with Cove and then switch to Baxter.

I just got my friend into our life, and they adore shiloh and derek sooo will there be more of them in the second game? 

I’m afraid not. But you can see plenty more of Shiloh in XOXO Droplets/XOXO Blood Droplets, haha.

I see you haven't gotten any xoxo droplets asks recently but I'm still obsessed with these boys!! I was just wondering if Nate would curse under any circumstance? 

Yeah, Nate does use certain swear words (damn, hell, bastard) on very rare occasions.

Hi there! I have a question about the wedding dlc. Will we be able to plan a honeymoon during the planning stages of it or would it be something that Cove and the mc would rather plan later on? Thank you! Absolutly love the game by the way, definitely one of my favorite games! 

The focus will be on the wedding day itself. The topic of the honeymoon might come up a bit, but there won’t be any choosing of the exact location and such.

Hi! I have two questions and it's completely understandable if you only answer one/neither and I'm sorry if you've already answered either before! First, is there a set year in which OL:B&A takes place (ex: Step 1 being set in 2010 & Step 2 being set in 2016, etc.) or is it simply up to interpretation? Second, have you guys thought about doing a coming-of-age game where the MC has a tough home life or upbringing? (like one of their parents is an addict, a parent being transphobic whilst the player has the option to be trans, or having friends that are influencing them to do drugs, etc.) That's all! Thanks for making beautiful games. <3 

There is a set timeline!

Step 1: 2006 Step 2: 2011 Step 3: 2016 Step 4: 2021 

And we don’t currently plan on making a game like that. The Our Life series exists to be a safer environment for people to play around in and if we did do a brand new series that was harsher edged it’d be something more fantastical and/or plot-driven instead of a different type of modern day slice-of-life growing up story. I’m sorry.

i don’t know if you’ve already answered this, but do you have a guess on when phase 4 will come out? as well as ol2? i’m so excited for both of them, the inclusivity in this game is amazing, you guys should be really proud of it! 

Step 4 will be coming out very soon! OL2 is gonna take until 2023 to be anywhere near completion. But we might episodically release the Steps one at a time as they get done instead of waiting for three to be finished before launch like we did with the first game.

Hello, I was curious if there was an official or unofficial discord server for the game? 

We do have a discord! You can join by clicking this link HERE.

how long do you plan to keep ol's patreon running? 

Hopefully for at least a few more years.

Are you considering ever making merch? 

Yeah, but I don’t know when it’ll happen or what exactly we’ll make, aha. It’s something we want do, just nothing is set.

hi! i just found out about your game a couple of days ago on tiktok (so sorry if you’ve already answered this question) and i was wondering if y’all are ever planning to release it on iOS? 

I have no idea. It’s hard for a small group to get Apple approval and I honestly can’t say if it’ll ever happen or not. Maybe someday, though!

Hi, I love the art style of Our life and I would like to know if the artist has a Twitter? Also, could it be possible to fund more CGs for the game from him/her? So many times, I wish there was one like when the cutscene of the sunshower. 

That’s nice of you to offer. He doesn’t have a Twitter, at least not one that’s public enough to be shared with me. And I’m afraid not. The issue is that the CGs take huge amounts of time rather than there not being a budget for it. He’s gotta make CGs for Step 4, the DLCs, and new character sprites, too. There isn’t space in the schedule for even more. Sorry for that.

Hi, how are you?!

Are you planning on accepting new writers or is it always the same people who write your stories??

Thanks!!

Our Life: Beginnings & Always won’t be getting new writers, but we will be hiring a new team of writers for Our Life: Now & Forever eventually!

perhaps this counts as nsfw and I'm sure it has been answered before but what does Cove prefer, chests/boobs or butts? or perhaps both :3c thank you for this wonderful game (and the patreon bonus moment, it was worth all the waiting and more ♥) 

He’s a “chests of all shapes and sizes” kind of guy, haha.

i was wondering- did any of the writers actually grow up by the beach? as someone who's lived in a beach town all their life it really did feel nostalgic to play through our life 1 

I was born and raised in Cali! Though, not right by the beach. We still had to make trips out, but the setting is based on my own childhood memories of small beach towns we went through.

In Derek’s upcoming DLC, will we be able to reference the pact we made as teens? (love olba and xod/xobd so much btw you’re literally amazing) 

Yep, you will be able to talk about that!

Oh, sorry about the Cole being secretly L ask, then!

If you wanted context: Death Note is about this one guy who finds a notebook that kills anyone who you write the name of in there. The guy eventually develops a God Complex and starts mass killing criminals and stuff. L is the one trying to find out who is killing all these people.

Me and my sister first joked about it because I couldn't remember how to translate a word about the way Cove was sitting, so I just did the pose, and it looked a lot like how L himself sits! Then we just snowballed from there, with more and more nonsense connections.

That’s okay! Thanks for explaining. I’m sorry I didn’t know what you meant.

[mmmonie]

I have obey me brain rot and I physically cannot take it anymore so here are some random HCS I fucking busted out about demons under the read more (and some angel stuff thrown in. For fun. Spice is the variety of life or whatever) I formatted this on mobile so forgive me for my crimes pls..... 😔

Also as an fyi I have never written anything in my life <3 (and also I’m dyslexic) so if something sounds stupid I’m sorry lol <3 also I’m sure u can tell but I never know where to put commas so if that bothers u........sorry again lol

*There are (at least) two demonic languages: one is a bit like Latin albeit way more fucked up. The second one is spoken only. A human can learn to understand both but the second one requires a lot of concentration to discern due to the subtlety in the growls, clicks and other noises demons are capable of making. It’s also very dependent on body language, especially in demonic form.

*It would be nearly impossible for a human to be fluent in the second one because of that. (unless you’re like. A really good mimic?)

* the second one is the oldest language. The new language and it’s written counterpart are derived from it with a little twist, so you’ll still hear some interesting noises thrown in there. It would take some dedication to learn, though the written part is fairly easy once you get the hang of it. It was made to be read quickly and efficiently. The speaking part however...................good luck.

* Demons and angels can instantly pick up human languages including reading and writing. Wouldn’t do you much good to be summoned in like. Germany and not know the language LOL

* Demons purr LOL you can’t click and growl and NOT purr. Like cats, it is both a happy thing and a self soothing thing.

* There is a slight difference between a happy purr and a self soothing purr, but the difference depends entirely on the demon.

* Demons (and angels) are nearly impossible to kill. It’s also very hard to damage them in any meaningful way. They also heal very quickly, so even if you did get a good hit on one, if they managed to get away chances are they’d heal in a matter of hours.

* Stronger demons like the brothers are even MORE impervious to damage. The amount of times Beel’s reached into the oven barehanded just to pop a piping hot cookie in his mouth is insane. He swears it’s the best way to eat them.

* Angels are very stiff but very physically powerful. They have a lot of control over their bodies and are trained from a young age to be able to wield that power responsibly.

* Demons on the other hand are incredibly flexible and bounce back easily. Though your average demon might not be the same physical strength as an angel, they have agility on their side. Angels are heavy hitters where demons rely on their ability to strike multiple times very quickly.

* This was a very weird transition for the brothers, though the amount of strength they had barely changed between realms. Fallen angels don’t change that much strength wise, but a little bit is burned up in the fall (to protect themselves.)

* Angels may be strong but demons also posses a massive amount of strength and have to learn to control it over time. This is known as a “juvenile phase” but it happens at different ages depending on how they were born. Fallen angels do not go through this as they have already learned to keep a grip on their power. Do I have an entire separate post ready about this bc I just couldn’t shut up? Maybe...

* There are four ways of being “born” a demon. Fallen angels, half demons, human borns and natural demons.

* Humans can choose to be turned into demons, but it is a very painful process and they won’t be able to gain any strength, what they get is what the get. They are referred to as “human born” and were considered the lowest of the humanoid demons until Diavolo came into power.

* Human born used to just be made whenever by whoever but that caused problems. Demons would make human borns and then just leave them to flounder about by themselves in an unknown territory. Diavolo’s father put an end to that during his reign, but “accidents” still happen. Now you have to do paperwork if you want to turn your human friend/lover into a demon lol.

* The ceremony for turning humans into demons is incredibly complex, which is why banning making human born unless given permission is less of a problem than you’d think.

* Half demons are just that, they’re only half demon. Most are half human but there are a few other kinds of magical creatures mixed in there. They aren’t as strong as a natural demon nor a fallen angel but they can gain power through their other ancestry. Many of them specialize in unique kinds of magic.

* Half human/demon children aren’t as rare as you’d think they are. This is due to the fact that demons have all sorts of ways to keep a demonic baby alive. Ranging from shapeshifting and (magically) taking the baby themselves once it’s grown enough to handle the transition to various forms of potions and spells to help a human along.

* Half demons and natural demons have the luxury of being born already (mostly) acclimated to the devildom, making some of the transitions that come with a demons lifespan easier on them than human born and fallen angels.

* Angels are taught to control/ignore their instincts where demons are taught to rely on/embrace theirs. Because demonic instincts often work against the things taught in the celestial realm fallen angels have a hard time adjusting to their new environment. Though, as their sins overtake them, their instincts become easier to fall back on.

* Demons have multiple forms, not just the two shown in game. All in all, the brothers have 5, each becoming less and less humanoid.

* Half/human born demons are more likely to have both a tail and wings in their first demonic form. Stronger demons like the brothers are merely showing off the strongest of the two, but everyone has both. (Bc I think they slap LOL *points* u get a tail and wings! *u get a tail and wings*)

* •a demons features can be influenced by what sin they are, but it’s not a hard or fast rule. Don’t be surprised if a demon who looks more akin to Mammon is actually a Sloth demon.***this does not apply to little Ds who’s look is entirely dependent on their sin. Little Ds are an entirely separate conversation 😈

* human borns/half demons can have two sins assigned to them, though this makes them less powerful in both. Usually there is a more prominent sin.

* Diavolo’s rule has helped quite a bit with bringing humans into a new better light, and many natural born demons who haven’t been able to interact with the human realm have become increasingly curious about humans and the way they work. Much of this is due to media that was brought from the human world to sedate Dia’s intense curiosity.

* In the eyes of many older demons, humans are merely playthings and it is expected that most demons will eventually mate with at least one other demon. A human and a demon dating is seen as just infatuation on the demons part, and it’s often thought that there are no real feelings behind a relationship like that. However there have been/are many successful and happy human/demon relationships.

* Demons don’t really have a concept of marriage. They live so long there really isn’t a point to tying yourself to one single person (or a few people) However, that’s not to say that there aren’t relationships like that. There are binding ceremonies for expressing love and devotion to other beings and it has its own unique culture.

* though the gates to the human realm are still technically closed and have been for a long time, demons can still be summoned by witches (sorcerers, wizards, warlocks, whatever you call yourself.) They can also be successfully summoned if you are not a magic user, however this is rare and often can go wrong, much like horror movies.

* Summoning very powerful demons like the brothers is incredibly hard even for an extremely experienced magic user, so often the demon you get claiming to be Satan really isn’t LOL. There are demons who are actually assigned to go to summonings in the place of the seven lords of hell, but many demons will just take on the role to fuck around with whomever summoned them. You think a prince of hell has time to just go possess some object or person for fun? (Ok...Mammon Satan and Belphie might.......if they’re bored enough LOL)

* Demons are actually relatively cuddly creatures. They might be a little rough with strangers but base instincts with family members will always be to coddle rather than fight. They’re more like humans in that right.

* Angels don’t do much casual touching, they’re very uptight. Beel and Belphie being as close as they are was a bit of an oddity in the celestial realm. That’s not to say angels don’t need causal touch lol just that they were trained to avoid that “temptation”.

* the brothers had a hard time starting out in the Devildom because of this. They still have a hard time with casual touches, which is why they seem so touched starved with the MC.

Things I might elaborate on later:

* There is a difference between demons, incubi and succubi but it’s not what you think it is.

* Demons, angels and humans all have very different takes on gender.

* The juvenile phase (DO not tempt me I wrote out like 1000 words about it bc I couldn’t shut the fuck up)

* Animals in the Devildom are fucked up. I WILL fucking talk about this bc it’s my passion.

* Pacts and how they work..........

* Maybe I’ll also elaborate on the hierarchy/power structure of demons sometimes 

[paradoxalriven]

hey! love your stuff. do you have any tips on how to write smut? i feel like mine is always just going through the motions ;w;

i feel like "read a lot and absorb what you like and then use that going forward" is a cop out but it's... probably the best advice i have to give? focusing on what you find most interesting in smut and then emphasizing that, figuring out the stuff that reads best, seeing if there's common themes in what you like and then trying to mimic that

for me, a lot of time that revolves around emotional weight and introspection, but i'm a pretty tactile person too, so i think a lot about touch and the sensation of touch; both of those things are what i end up focusing on in scenes (or attempting to, lmao, i don't always hit the mark)

and if you're worried it's repetitive, it might be worthwhile to read through it while looking out for any repeating phrases! there's only so many ways you can type "and then he fucked so hard and good because he's so cool and sexy" but like, if you find yourself rotating through the exact same beats, highlighting where that's happening and then making an effort to change it up can help

(for another me-specific thing, i like staggering orgasms in scenes, both because i like overstim and because i think it gives a sex scene more room to breathe if you're not trying to have both people match up perfectly in sync. people rarely do in real life! and playing around with people who come multiple times, or don't come at all, can be a way to liven things up. but yknow that's a very personal choice i make for ME i'm not saying that's necessary, lmao.)

[hutchhitched]

My thoughts on Monday under the cut…

I spent a week in Greece almost 15 years ago, and I loved it. This movie makes me what to go back. I wasn’t sure if I’d get to see it in theaters because the two main chains I go to weren’t carrying it. Thankfully, one of the “premium” theaters in Houston has it, and a friend and I went to the first showing earlier today at 7:00 pm. Masked the entire time and completely isolated from others in a pod with recliners. It was delightful (and pricey). Seeing Sebastian Stan on the big screen in this movie was worth every penny.

 Before I dissect the movie, it has to be said. Sebastian Stan is gorgeous, and this movie showcases that in every shot of him. There are closeups and a lot of skin and scruff and charm and smiles that are beautifully shot. So. Much. Pretty.

 Speaking of pretty—the cinematography. Chef’s kiss. Gorgeous blue skies and blue sea. It looks exactly like I remember. Beautiful. Also, lots of ouzo. Chloe’s shudder when she does a shot is so relatable. That stuff is disgusting, and, man, it burns all the way down.

 The movie itself is solid. The story centers around a relationship that mimics a train wreck (and the soundtrack does, too)—fascinating, speedy, and gripping. I shook my head many, many, many times. So many choices made that just weren’t good ideas. The thing is that pretty much all of them were understandable for these characters. I kept thinking over and over, “bless their hearts.”

 Yes, there is a lot of nudity. Yes, there is (very brief) full frontal. I did not find it distracting or out of place. There’s also a lot of sex. For the most part, those scenes were organic and made sense. Only one was a little bit surprising. That blue couch… Major side eye.

 Mickey ended up with a twist I didn’t know was coming, and that helped humanize him as more than a frat boy with Peter Pan syndrome. He’s charming and manipulative and loving and jealous and insecure. I know men like him, and some of my friends are married to them. They are wonderful people, and I could never live with any of them (not that I would live with a friend’s husband, but you know what I mean). The ending shot of him is so full of hope and sweetness and tenderness, and I was mad because I knew it was the end of the movie. I wanted to see where that went, and now I’ll only be able to imagine it. People who don’t like open endings will hate this one, but I thought it was completely apropos for Monday. Sebastian plays Mickey will all the nuance and charm and insecurity I expected. He does wounded so well. He does chaotic even better.

 Denise Gough is a fantastic actor. Chloe, her character, was an enigma to me. She’s supposed to be the serious, responsible one that tempers Mickey’s wild side, but the two times when things go off the rails, she’s the instigator. I find those choices fascinating and completely understandable for someone who’s been holding things together and really desperately wants to cut loose. Unfortunately, when she does that with Mickey, it’s bad, bad, bad, bad.

 MAJOR SPOILERS

 Mickey’s got a six-year-old son, and the only way the mother will let him see his kid is if he and Chloe are physically together and in a committed relationship. Because Chloe knows that, she’s trapped. If she leaves, Mickey loses visitation rights with his son. If she stays, she might implode. Together, the two are both wonderful and absolutely terrible for each other.

 Chloe gets pregnant and has an abortion without telling Mickey. I assume it was his, but it could have been Chloe’s ex-boyfriend’s. It’s not that easy to figure out how much time has passed, but it’s at least a few months for the entire movie. When she tells Mickey and he isn’t upset, she’s furious, but they’re interrupted and end up running back to Mickey’s motorcycle. He seems ready to drive them home, but Chloe wants to go to the beach—naked on a motorcycle. It’s a really bad plan. They’re high and drunk. Mickey hesitates and then agrees. All hell breaks loose, which leads to Monday—the reality of their messed up but very real relationship.

 Mickey interrupts the entertainment at a wedding to drunkenly ask Chloe to marry him. He’s just been confronted by his friend about ruining everything good in his life and not to do it. He’s jealous of Chloe’s ex, who happens to also be at the wedding. He’s scared to death of messing things up, so of course he does exactly that. It’s cringe-worthy, and I watched it through my fingers due to secondhand embarrassment. There’s a shot when Mickey’s looking in a mirror, and we can see all the pain and hurt and fear in him. It was like seeing Bucky in Greece.

 Why is Chloe’s ex-boyfriend so awful? We don’t know, but it’s clear it was a bad breakup, which makes her rebound with Mickey understandable. The problem is that both of them ended up falling in love, and now they can’t figure out how to fix it. I hope they do. I really do, because the affection and love and chemistry they have is beautiful when they’re open and honest and authentic with each other.

 Mickey’s ex-bandmate…I don’t even know what to say about her. She’s a nightmare. And Chloe’s friend Stephanie needs to a major attitude adjustment. Baby Mama (I don’t remember her name) is super angry. These three characters are just wow.

 There are some gaps. There’s not a complex plot, but this movie puts the relationship of two flawed but genuinely good-hearted people at the forefront and asks us to cheer for them when they aren’t easy to cheer for. In short, Monday is a movie that anyone who’s been in love can understand if they’ve ever been absolutely terrified to lose the person they love. The desperation to hold onto something good is painful to watch, but it’s a gorgeous journey. 

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar Of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby

Day 11: Where The Fuck Is The Top? 

Warnings: Bad Language Words, some Naughty Times. 

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: Alright, so this instance has happened to me. I loathe tupperware because I can never ever find the damn cover and half the time I saran wrap that bitch. As always stayed tuned for what @what-is-your-plan-today​ and @jennmurawski13​ have up there sleeves for this Man Child. 

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Ransom groaned while stretching, your feet in his lap and your head propped up on the other end of the couch, his hand dropping to your ankle and giving it a good rub which made you mimic his groan from before, rolling your foot a bit while his fingers worked there magic over the arch of your foot. “Right there Ransom, feels so damn good.” 

He smirked hearing you while his eyes were still glued to the America’s Worst Cooks episode you two were watching. “Same thing you said to me the other night Y/N.” 

“I did, but this might be even better than that Ransom.” You grinned down your body at him, while you switched feet so he would do the other one, which he shifted his attention to, making you give another satisfied groan. 

“Well you were mixing my name with God’s, I think that kinda beats everything doesn't it?” He slid a finger from your heel up to your toes that he wiggled the ends of. 

“Nah, I was just adding that for your benefit.” You said while turning back to the television, scrunching your nose at some of the stuff the contestant made. “Fuck these people are hopeless Ransom. We should sign you up, I bet you would kick all their asses.” 

He gave a slight squeeze to your heel, and worked his hand over the top of your foot, knowing how much you enjoyed it. “Hey, I think those tacos were not to bad tonight, I even manage to toast the shells without burning them.” You grinned thinking back on how carefully he diced the lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, bitching the whole time he was dicing the onion cause of the tears streaming down his face. You let him also open the salsa jar while you carefully monitored the stuff on the stove top. 

You to had an eye on the shells and subtly reminded him to check them when you noticed they were starting to toast up. 

“Baby, those fucking tacos were the best, Spawn Baby was extremely pleased with it.” You rubbed your belly and shifted to move up to a sit, dropping your feet from his lap. “So I will go clean up, since you spoiled me.” 

“Nah, I got it Baby. You just stay right there.” He pushed up, and leaned over to grasp your chin lightly, placing a deep loving kiss on your lips. You inhaled deeply as he pulled away, your eyes shining a bit brighter than before. Inwards, Ransom cheered as he knew that look well. With all he had been doing today, and actually not making a disaster of it, you were getting turned on, and frankly he was ready for it.  

“Uh when you come back, maybe I will make you cry out my name.” You wink at him, biting your lip playfully and he smirked at you while giving a nipping kiss on your lips before moving away. 

“Mmh Princess, sounds like a deal. Be right back.” Ransom winked at you, then made his way to the kitchen, whistling happily while flicking on the light to show the disaster of the kitchen. He might have made decent tacos, but hell if he knew how to clean up after himself. 

Strewn across the counters were bowls of chopped veggies, tops to sour cream and salsa, some shredded cheese fell across the counter, taco shells and wraps half scattered from where you two had flung them at each other across the counter joking about what the best taco toppings were. You stood behind your salsa and sour cream combo, and Ransom swore that the more cheese the better, what the hell was sour cream good for? 

Deciding to put the chopped veggies and meat away, he went into the tupperware cupboard. They were stacked so neatly that he easily chose a few different sizes. Then he started sorting through the tops, trying to find some to fit the bottoms, and not a one would click on. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He growled under his breath, flinging the tops that didn't fit over his shoulder in aggravation across the kitchen to skid across the tile floor. 

He just kept pulling them out and no matter which he tried, even forcefully trying to make them fit, they just wouldn’t snap and finally the kitchen floor was scattered with tupperware tops and a few bottoms he also flung when he had gotten frustrated. 

“Fuck the tupperwear, wheres the saran wrap?” He asked himself and searched the rest of the cupboards till he found what he was looking for. Unwrapping the saran wrap, it kept folding on him and wrapping around his hand, which he shook his hand hard to dislodge from, getting more agitated and hostile until it dislodged from his hands. Now the kitchen looked like a toddler had gone through it. “Fuck it.” 

He ended up just leaving everything in the dishes he had served it in, and just stuffed it in the refrigerator without anything covering them. Thoroughly distracted with your earlier offer, he didn't even think to pick up the scattering of tupperware dishes and lids, or the tangled saran wrap all over the kitchen floor. 

“Ready for bed?” He asked going back into the living room and you flicked the tv off and moved to a stand. 

“Kitchen is all picked up?” You asked while heading around the couch and Ransom steered you towards the stairs, obviously now just having your offer to get him off in mine. If you had any idea, damned if he would be getting lucky tonight. 

“Done, cleaned and sorted.” He pinched the curve of your ass playfully, making you jump and go up the stairs faster, him grinning devilishly while following you up towards your bedroom. 

You waited till he got to the bedroom and wrapped your hands in his soft tee shirt and pulled him to sit on the bed, smirking at him. “Well since you’ve stepped up Ransom, you deserve what was promised.” You move, somewhat awkwardly to your knees and work your hands on his pants. 

Fuck if Ransom has ever been more turned on watching his pregnant wife work to get her mouth on his cock. 

*********************

It was hours later, Ransom was passed out in bed, and you had woken up craving orange juice. Ransom's kid seemed to love the stuff, leaving you craving it all the time. So you made your way down to the kitchen which you accidentally kicked at one of the containers, making it skid across the floor before you had even turned on the light. 

“What the-?” confused as to what had went bouncing, you turned on the light to see the mess left behind. Your jaw dropped in shock at first, looking around and said out loud in disbelief. “I’m going to kill that fucking asshole.” You picked your way through it and sighed to yourself. “I’m not cleaning it, nope… this is on him. He can do it in the morning.” Your resolve set as you made your way to the fridge and opened it to find all the food had been shoved in without any covers. Leaving it smelling awful. “That motherfucking bastard. So god damn stupid.”  

 You snatched the orange juice and shut the door before you were assaulted with the smell any longer. Pouring yourself a big tall glass and drinking half of it before topping it off again. “I’m not his maid, or housekeeper.” You continued on, having debated if you should clean up the mess Ransom had left behind. But it wasn’t your job, you continued telling yourself as you made your way back through, and right back up the stairs to bed you went. 

Ransom groaned and rolled around to spoon up behind you as you settled back in, nuzzling the back of your neck and muttered “Where did you go?” 

You looked over your shoulder at your sleeping husband, knowing he wasn’t really listening. “You fucking left the kitchen a disaster Ransom.” 

He smirked as his arm tightened around you. “I did a damn good job didn’t I?” so smug with himself, even in his sleep. 

You snorted as you tugged the blankets over yourself. “Yea, a real regular professional man child I have. I can’t wait to have two of you.” In which you then tucked your cold feet against him and made him yelp. 

“Fucking hell Y/N, you know I hate that.” 

You wriggled further in bed. “Make sure you put away the tupperware on the floor and scrub the fridge before I get up in the morning Ransom. I can’t believe you did that. What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“I couldn’t find a god damn lid that fit.” Ransom slid his hand along your hip and shifted back in close to your back, hoping he could warm up your sudden cold demeanor. You retaliate by reaching to smack his hand he had the nerve to touch you with. 

“Don’t you dare think your going to fuck your way out of this one. Don’t touch me for the rest of the night Ransom.” You snapped out, leaving him cursing mentally at how his luck had so swiftly turned. 

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 4

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A/N: hello there!!! here is the next chapter, I'm so so sorry it took me so long, I was sick for 5 days and no feeling unmotivated, but I hope the others will not take nearly as long!! I really hope you like it and please LMK what you think!! And as always, thank you to my babe Ash ( @imagines-r-s ) for helping me with literally everything🥰💕💕

change in POV is signalized by:

Y/N= regular ELIAS= italics

(any other info is on the masterlist)

Warnings: lots of cursing, specifically excessive use of the word "ass", mentions of iCarly , I think thats it, if you think I missed a warning please inform me!!!

Summary: Brocks plan continues... more stuff happens

Word Count: 2.82k

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< ———————— >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

There was an awkward pause where, to you, it looked like Elias was thinking really hard about something.

“...wait,” he finally spoke.

“Yeah?”

“Okay, like a few weeks ago, we were in the hotel room and, you were upset with Marky because of the whole Gabe Landeskog thing,” he started.

You thought for a second and- oh, “Oh...shit. No. No, no Elias, I'm not having this conversation right now,” you knew exactly what he was talking about since that exact moment had caused about 3 panic attacks in the past month.

“You don't even know what I’m going to say,” he said with a little laugh at how you were reacting.

“Oh yes, I do.”

“Ok, Y/N wait just sit down.”

“BROCK,” you ignored him and got up, shouting at the door that you entered in about, hmm, yep, 5 years ago.

“Y/N,” he seemed like he wanted to talk when you really, truly did not.

“BROCK BOESER OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT FUCKING NOW,” you continued shouting at that damned door.

“Y/N...please,” he sounded sweet and calm. Which kinda calmed you down slightly, so once you realized Brock wasn't going to open that door any time soon, you sat back down on the couch next to where Petey was sitting. You sat a little too close at first, both of you looking into each other's eyes. Your faces were roughly a foot away from each other, as you looked in his eyes, you thought you saw a glimmer of something, something you knew he was seeing in your eyes. You snapped yourself out of it and pulled away, scooching yourself back about a foot. Right then, Elias reached for you and placed his hand on your arm. “Y/N, just...sorry. I was just going to ask what Quinn meant that day when he said ‘you really have a thing for swedes, huh,’” he tried to mimic your other American friend, his impression made you laugh.

You groaned and put your forehead on his shoulder. You stayed like that for a second, taking in his scent. Then you pulled your head back and started to speak, “Yeah, about that. Um, so, yeah, that-that thing, uh,” you cleared your throat.

“Are you going to say anything or is it just ‘um, yeah, so, um?’”

“Shut up” you giggled “I just never thought I’d have to say this to you,” you covered your heated face with your hands.

“Well, I always thought he was talking about Marky, but apparently thats not true. I just didn’t know you knew many other swedes.”

“...yo-,” you sighed. He didn’t realize what Quinn was saying, “oh my god, my dumbass brother is rubbing off on you. Ok, name the other swedes I know.”

“Well there's Marky, Oscar, Loui, Alex, and uh, Brock said you knew uh, Partick Nemeth and Johnny Oduya when you interned in Dallas during college. Oh, and Brock had mentioned you had a crush on Klingberg at one point, right?”

“Yes, but, uh- oh my lord,” you took a deep breath and tried to make sure you didn’t blurt anything out like an idiot would do, “I think you’re missing one.”

“What? Well, Nilsson before he got traded. And Brock was here when the twins were still playing, right?”

“Ok, Elias, you’re missing one person, one fucking person,” you were starting to get frustrated.

“I dont think I understand…”

“Ok, if you were to make it on team Sweden for the winter Olympics, Marky, and Landeskog too, ok?”

“Yeah?”

“Ok, who on that team would know me?”

“Well considering I dont know who else would be on that team it’s hard to say, but me, mark and Gabe would.”

“Ok, perfect. So that list of Swedes earlier was missing…” you gestured for him to finish your sentence.

“Oh, I’m stupid, I forgot myself,” you nodded and waited for him to process, it took longer than one would’ve thought but that's beside the point. His eyes got wide and his face turned red. He didn’t speak, you knew he knew now, but he wasn’t saying anything.

Shit, fuck, it’s exactly what you were afraid of.

WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK??? How did this happen, Elias is so completely and utterly stunned. Y/N Y/M/N Boeser had an actual, real-life crush on him? (God he feels like he’s in middle school again, freaking out about a “crush”)Ok, he’s definitely dreaming, that's the only thing he can think right now because he didn’t think this was a possibility. That’s when he realized, he hadn’t said anything yet, he’d just been staring at her with what he could only assume was an idiotic expression. He took in her expression, she was staring at her lap, her eyes wide, she looked tense, like she needed a hug.

Elias grabbed her and pulled her into his body, she tightened her arms around his waist and tucked her head into his neck. He could feel her heart racing, or was that his? He squeezed her tighter, trying to stall the inevitable. What was he supposed to say? “Yeah, Y/N I’ve had a massive crush on you, even before I met you in person. I’m pretty sure I might just be in love with you, sorry I never said anything. Oh, also, I can’t be with you because your brother and all of our friends would murder me.” Elias knew he wasn’t the smartest, but he wasn’t that much of an idiot.

Just then Y/N pulled back from the hug, looking much happier than before, her eyes met him and they both smiled fondly, just then Elias realized just how close their faces were. Shit, he really wanted to, he could feel her breath and his eyes flickered down to her lips. He unknowingly swiped his tongue over his, and she did the same and bit her lip ever so slightly. His heart was racing, she must be able to hear it. He leans in the slightest bit, to test the waters. To his surprise, she leans in the rest of the way and their lips finally connect.

It’s even more amazing than he ever would have imagined. Every nerve in his body is firing. He grabs her neck and they move together, in unison, and it's almost as if they’ve done this a thousand times before. It feels so easy, so natural, so perfect. He is by every definition, elated. He truly can’t believe this is happening. As he comes back to reality, he feels her hands siding up to his chest, she groans slightly as her hands settle on his shoulders. He slides his tongue across her lips and he can feel her shiver in reaction. They break apart for the first time, both panting into each other’s space, Elias is smiling bigger than he ever has. Their dilated eyes meet, he’s sure she’s probably noticed his flushed skin, his more-than-pale complexion doing no favors to hide it. Elias looks down and notices her smiling. Thank God.

She pulls back suddenly and speaks, “uh, sorry I just- um, I know you didn’t want that.” she stands up, “I-um- I’ll just-”

He touches her arm, making sure not to grab it. He doesn’t want to be controlling. “Hey, who said anything about me not wanting that” he was still smiling and looking up at her fondly, “trust me Y/N, I wanted that. I’ve wanted that for a lot longer than what you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have supposed that I may also have a “crush” on you too.”

“Fredrik? Are you going soft on me?” she teased.

“Ok, one: what is with you and my middle name, and two: I don't know if ‘soft’ is ever a word I would use to describe how I feel about you” he smirks, trying to mess with her. Which works as her expression clearly shows, her eyes widen and she looks away from him.

“Elias shut up, you’re such a douche,” though she’s grinning a little.

“Um, I don't know if you know what douche is, but if you want help, if you opened a dictionary, I’m pretty sure it would have a picture of Thatcher Demko, and Troy Stecher,” she laughs, there it is: that damn laugh. “You have the best laugh,” he says while giggling himself.

She smiles and looks into his eyes, purely beautiful as always. “Ok, well I will have you know, I like to call this a cackle” She eventually sits down next to him on the couch again, they’re facing each other, fully enthralled in each other’s presence. “Uh, so I’m not one to say these things, I have actually built up a reputation to explicitly avoid these conversations, but” she starts, “but- uh- what does all of this mean exactly? I like you, you like me, we kissed, I mean there’s obviously something here and I just- I guess, I’m not opposed to seeing where this could go, but you know, you could feel differently and that's ok-”

“Woah” he cuts her off as he’s laughing, “You’re rambling nervously, which is making me even more nervous than I already was, ok?” he placed his hand on her shoulder, “but I do have to tell you something,” this is where Elias took a pause and thought about what he should say, which he now realizes is a mistake due to how long it takes him to make decisions. But anyway, he had to decide if to tell you the entirety of the story, or to keep it brief and hope it comes up later at some point.

“Elias”

“Ah, yes.” he emerges from his thoughts, “so first I want to say that I also would love to see where this can go. I likes you-uh- more than a lot. But, I really have to figure something out before I can even think about doing anything with you, I just don't want to screw it up.”

“More than a lot, huh Fredrik?” you think about what he said. The fact that he felt the need to preface what he said with the fact that he also likes you and also wants to see where this can go, truly made you feel better. It felt like he wanted to make sure you didn’t misunderstand him, and that he didn’t want to hurt you. And obviously, you couldn’t let him get away with saying something like “I likes you- uh- more than a lot,” you did grow up hanging out with basically a shit ton of hockey guys, so you couldn't just let that slide. Plus, it was so cute how he said ‘likes’, instead of like, due to his language barrier.

“Yes, Y/N, more than a lot.” he rolled his eyes, “but is that ok with you, that I have to wait?”

“Yeah, that's fine. I mean as long as it’s not like a year, then that's fine,” you say, giggling.

“Oh god no, geez, not that long I promise. Maybe a month at most, I promise,��� you both sit and laugh for a minute. You truly didn’t think he liked you, even as a friend, let alone as more than.

“You’re not going to go back to ignoring me, are you?”

“No, we can be friends until I figure that out. And I assume the reason we’re in here is that Brock thought I didn’t likes you. I mean he had mentioned it to me a few times but I obviously didn’t tell him why so,” he looked nervous, but you could see him try thinking of a way to change that. “ but hey, since we’re going to be friends now, your idiot brother will be pleased, and maybe he won’t lock us in a room again,” That makes you chuckle. You noticed that when you laughed, you could see Elias’s face light up, just a little bit, “I mean, not that it went horribly this time” and of course that made you laugh harder, which made him smile bigger. Then his face shifted a little bit, he looked more serious, “But hey, speaking of Brock, could you maybe not tell him, what we talked about in here?”

“Well, no shit. I wouldn’t tell him about this kind of thing on any day of the week anyways. He gets so nosey,” he looked relieved and smiled.

“Ok, so seeing as how we probably have some time to kill…” he grabbed a remote off of the table next to the couch and pressed a button. Then from the seemingly inconspicuous piece of furniture, a tv rose.

Your face was shocked, “I’m sorry, has it always done that??” you say, confused.

“Yeah. Y/N, you work here, how did you not know that?”

“Well I had seen a TV in here before but I thought they like took it away or needed to fix it or something, I didn’t know we had a magic tv in here!!” Elias laughed. “Wait, you waited till now to turn on the TV. we could have been watching TV this whole time!?”

“Yeah but then you wouldn’t have condensed your feelings for me.”

“Um, it was a mutual confession, jackass.”

Elias was smiling at your sass, “so what do you want to watch?”

“I know exactly what to watch,” you grab the remote from his hand and navigate to iCarly on the TV.

“Perfect,'' he says with a fond smile, and you both relax on the couch and watch the old nickelodeon classic. At this point, you both are sitting far enough apart so you look more like friends, just to make sure that if someone comes in, they cant think otherwise.

You watch 2 episodes and you are in the middle of the third when brock comes in. you both are laughing at spencer trying to tell everyone that a 13-year-old boy, Chuck, is torturing him, when you are both startled, “well you two seem to be having fun.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Brock,” Elias mutters, obviously scared from the sudden arrival of the jack-ass that you are forced to love and call your brother.

“Well if it isn't the champion of ass-facery, congratulations on the medal bro.”

“Ok, before you yell at me and hit me and tell on me to mom, it looks like it worked,” he says, gesturing to the two of you on the couch.

“Yes, it worked, he no longer hates me, blah blah blah.”

“Hey, I never hated you.”

“Suuuuuure,” you say, and you give him a wink only he can see, “well, either way-”

“Also,” Brock interrupts, “you technically did it to me first.”

“In fucking high school.”

“Y/N/N, high school was only 5 years ago. And technically should have been like 3 years ago for you but you went and graduated early so checkmate.”

“I think he’s got you there,” Elias spoke up.

“Wow, thanks ‘new friend,’” you said sarcastically, feeling teamed upon.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me that you two are friends now” Brock was smiling like an idiot at this point.

“Ok, well as much as I'd love to stay, I have to go and meet Hog, he doesn’t like to go to the store alone.”

“Aww, poor, sweet baby,” you said with a frown, "Tell him I say hi.”

“Will do!”

“Bye Petey.”

“Bye champion of ass-facery,” Elias shouts back

You laughed at that as Elias exited the room, leaving just you and your brother there.

“So are you really mad at me Y/N/N?”

You sigh “no, I guess not. I’m just glad he doesn’t hate me like I thought. And also he’s absolutely hilarious.”

“Right!! He’s so funny, and I just wanted you guys to get along. You’re basically the two most important people in my life and I didn’t want you two to be like you were forever. And if you didn’t notice, you two are so similar!”

“Aww Mr sensitive, you’re so sweeeeeet.”

“You’re such an ass,” he said chuckling.

You pull out your phone and check the time, “well, it’s time for me to depart. I do have a job and all.”

“Wait, that reminds me, why didn’t either of you use your phones and call someone?” he asked, “that was essentially the only flaw in my plan.”

Thought for a second, “shit. I mean we basically talked the whole time I guess neither of us thought to do that.” Brock smiled at you and giggled a little. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just a little sweet, I guess.”

“Shut up ass-munch,” you shove him as you walk out of the door with a small smile on your face. These past 2-3 hours went much better than you would have thought, and now you have a new friend. And maybe at some point, a little more than that.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< ———————— >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

taglist: @habsfan @suffering-canucks-fan @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan @2manytabsopen @callllumhood @mellany1997 @all-time-fanatic @Fitnessfreak498 @peachyotps @teamcanadasimp @iwantahockeyhimbo @aeyyy-ohhhh @nhlindblom @teenagekook @hockeymockeryandlove

Sorry ☹️ these Won’t tag: @lmao-i-only-know-hockey @predshockeyfan @dolphinahabsfan @starswinheunderwoo @yourlocalgranolagirl54 @peteysimp

[garrothromeave]

the hell is mystreet season 6??

(warning, long post ahead)

ok so before i start this

1) ive never posted shiiiit on tumblr before so watch me suffer, im just here to talk about stuff that my friends who dont know anything about aphmau have to listen to me rant about for hours on end

2) i havent seen mystreet in like years (except season 3, i watch that frequently since im laurance and shadow knight deprived) so please bear with me because i might be completely wrong on this lol. it’s just like, pointing out things i remember

3) im sure someones already talked about this but who cares

4) im gonna do this stupid thing where i just explain myself a bit at first, if you dont want to read that just skip to the part where you see “the actual thingy:” in bold and italics 

5) mild disclaimer; i am completely aware that jessica is not a professional writer. i know that she did her best to appeal to her fans, and honestly, respect for that. while this post will come off as aggressive and probably look like hate, that’s not my intention in the slightest. it’s just... intense criticism. im sure y’all probably already know that, but yeah, just stating that anyways. i do believe that jess is doing her best, and in no way do i want to dismiss any hard work she’s done. that being said; prepare for a very strongly opinionated post.

haha watch there be 10000+ typos in this making me look like a complete dumbass

ok here we go 

one of the main reasons i stopped watching aphmau back in 2017 was the mess that was season 4. like, in the first few episodes of the emerald secret, i thought “woah!! this is kinda cool, im a sucker for mystery!” because of course i was, it was something new and something exciting. the only problem i had with it at the time was kim, but that’s just because i always found her annoying and out of place. i just didn’t understand why garroth dragged her along and honestly i still don’t to this day BUT, moving on.

anyways, as the season progressed, 13 year old me was of course just “:0!!” the entire time--that is, up until the reveal of the main villain. i remember watching the episode, seeing the reveal of ein, and then stopping. like, just for a quick break, but i was still just overwhelmingly disappointed. like, and this was the time when pdh was airing and ein just got made alpha (i think?) and i had really really liked eins character in pdh. either way, that really sucked and actually opened my eyes to a lot of things.

one of the main things bein’ the fact that this was supposed to be a slice of life kinda series that decided to take a turn to a more edgy kinda approach. which, i guess i regularly wouldnt mind? but seeing as mcd was kinda bein neglected at the time it just didnt sit right with me. BUT WHATEVER, point is i stopped watching mystreet all together at the end of season 4.

like, a whole year later my brother tells me that shit’s getting intense in season 5 + 6 of mystreet, and my brilliant self decided to give it a shot--but i refused to watch all of season 5, so i only stepped in when ein made an appearance. so whenever that was, that’s where i picked up because i didnt care enough to see 

and y’know--i honestly didn’t hate it at first. in fact, i found it oddly cool. it wasn’t enough to get me into aphmau again, but it was enough to where i was intrigued. i dont know why, but i never watched the finale, so i didnt see the ending until just a few weeks ago--but back then, i thought it was neat. looking back on it however... im just so confused. 

side note: only got back into aphmau this time around because of mcd. mainly because like, i adore the first season and the first half of the second season. and being nearly 18 now, im a lot more appreciative of plot and well-written characters n junk. 

the actual thingy:

ok back on track. imma stop spilling out my story of how i got back into aphmau, and lets just skip to what rewatching mcd made me realize of season 6′s plot and shit:

-emmalyn. how the fuck does ghost even remotely exist? if she’s emmalyn as claimed, then why have we already seen emmalyn in the mystreet universe alive? look i get that creators can do whatever they want with their stories but at the same time please provide some sort of explanation good god. and maybe they did and i just havent seen it, so if there is one--let me know. but until that day imma just sit here confused as fuck

-ok so imma just be real, the whole ‘ultima’ thing is just... not great. in my opinion, anyways. like... i saw someone mention this in another post, but if this ultima stuff was like, a really big deal, why isnt it mentioned in mcd? though i suppose since its a curse of sorts, it could be later on past the time period in which mcd takes place--but even then, how did it manage to make its way into aaron’s family bloodline? 

-WHY IS EVERYONE AT STARLIGHT ITS JUST SO CONVINIENT like what happened to this place being the most expensive shit on the planet or whatever, and how the gang happens to run into like, the werewolf trio and blaze and kai and guy and nate all of these people like god damn life doesnt WORK LIKE THAT 

-im sorry but turning people into relics? thats... thats the best you could come up with? plus, like, how does that even work? in mcd it’s established that relics are separate entitles that choose their wielder, based on a ‘personal’ connection (being a descendent of a previous wielder) or if they’re a good match personality and (i think?) moral wise. so the whole turning-people-into-relics doesnt make much sense to be honest. 

-irene really over here using her god powers to only keep her friends alive like god damn not a great god if you ask me 

-can i talk about how incredibly predictable aphmaus death was? like i just kinda sat there waiting for it to happen and when it did i literally went “haha! wonder when she’ll be revived” because god forbid we actually kill off characters 

-when aphmau + demon warlock fought in the irene dimension there was no passage of time whatsoever in the real world whiiiiiiiiich really bothers me because they fought in there for at least a few minutes

-speaking of aphmau and the demon warlocks fight does it bother anyone else that it had to be aaron who took over the fight?? like we get it hes the big protector blah blah blah but god damn it wouldve been cooler if aphmau had fought this battle as her. aaron fighting this battle was so underwhelming

-...love. like, thats the only thing thats needed to break out of a forever potion? love? LIKE YEAH, GOOD GUYS GOTTA WIN SOMEHOW, but its just so cliche and overdoneeee

-oh yeah and also when travis went bonkers and became the demon warlock or whatever, why’d he only take over katelyn and garroth?? like, zane had been influenced by the potions in the past as well? DONT GET ME WRONG--i do love some good brother edge, but uh, the demon warlock was just bein kinda a dumbass by not possessing zane too just sayin’

-can aaron please go to fucking jail for mass murder now like holy shit, he just got sent home on a fuckin boat. also why did blaze forgive him for killing him thats not even remotely realistic. then again, nothing in mystreet has ever been realistic when it comes to characters and motives and personalities, (cough katelyn being actually abusive and travis being an actual pervert) but yknow whatever

-katelyn and kawaii chan literally added nothing to the plot whatsoever. like lets be real, katelyn lost her personality the moment season 5 started and kawaii chan just kinda sits there :I

-ok im sorry this was bound to come up but cmon guys imagine laurances potential if he was in season 6 like god damn this is beyond maddening. AND YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A REALLY REALLY COOL PARRALLEL?? IF IT WAS LAURANCE WHO SNAPPED GARROTH OUT OF HIS MIND CONTROL THING, because it would mimic laurance’s speech to get garroth to snap out of his rage in season 1, episode 100 of minecraft diaries. like how fuckin rad would that have been? missed opportunity 

-also?? why does kim/ghost know magicks?? like, if i remember correctly, emmalyn is a scholar--not someone who knew magicks. i mean, i guess research? study?? but its been established that knowing how magicks works =/= being able to use magicks. i dunno, just doesnt seem right i guess. maybe its explained, i wouldnt know (yes i know that makes me look like a dick leave me alone)

-melissa should have stayed dead. LIKE, NO, ITS NOT AS SIMPLE AS “haha it takes more than a few bullets to kill me”??? look ive got nothing wrong with melissa (cough lie cough) but yknow it would have just been cool a character... stay dead? for once? its just too fuckin cliche that shes alive god damn

-can i also just say the only good thing that came out of season 6 was travis’ dads sacrifice like damn that made me actually sad

-howww was lucinda turned into a relic. or yknow, anyone else? like im sure they explain it better in the actual show i just dont remember, but its just that easy? turning anyone into a relic? granted, a normal person wouldnt be able to produce a good relic, but idk man. IM JUST SAYING; that the only really powerful relics that aphmau should have been able to wield is the one that aaron + zane produced because shad relic and esmund relic moment. lucinda isnt even like, connected to a divine warrior. ALSO, another point, if its seriously that powerful of a relic getting one from just a magic user like lucinda, why go through the trouble? i mean i guess ofc youd want the “all powerful” one that the ultima produces but i mean damn whats the point

-ok this is just going to bother me but in one of the episodes (i think might have been in season 5 actually) where that like, guardian dude was chasing aphmau and zane and at one point they split up and the dude just chuckles at zane diverting paths and goes under his breath “youre not the important one here”, suggesting that aphmau somehow is? first of all, id argue that any ro’meave is significantly more important than aphmau was, especially not knowing much about her other than that shes with aaron. i might be missing some bits an pieces, but if i was that dude id forget about aphmau and go after zane 

-killing off derek for shock factor sucked, and i know the moment was supposed to be really sad because like “oh :( aarons dad is sacrificing himself for his son” but lets be real dereks still was a shitty father and i dont think his reasons for doing what he did was very good at all

-less about plot or more like: why the absolute fuck did the gang bring kim along instead of, oh i dont know, a life-long friend? like, laurance or dante maybe?? im sure its explained, i never saw aphmaus year or most of season 5, but god DAMN id hate to be apart of this friend group AND GOD LIKE, imagine reconnecting with an old friend who ends up getting closer to your best friends and taking priority in their lives over you (cough laurance) like god damn lol

-im just going to preface this one with: i dont remember everything that’s happened, so if im wrong i apologize in advance--but (you actually can correct me if im wrong and please do) didnt like, irene reincarnate her friends in order to give them better lives? I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS TRUE, ITS JUST WHAT I REMEMBER--however, if im correct, then:

a. why the hell would she bring back someone like zane, or gene, or ivy, etc.

b. why the hell do they all have the same exact names? first and last? again, im aware that the whole mystreet+mcd tie wasn’t originally supposed to be there, but i dont think that means such a coincidence can be excused? its just a bit much if you ask me.

c. why the hell is the fact that (as much as i literally hate this) aaron is a decedent of shad being ignored? like, you’d think that something like this would be something thats actually important, or something the demon warlock couldve taken advantage of. or are we completely erasing every other connections to divine warriors besides aphmau + irene? because even if irene did reincarnate them or do whatever it is she did, does she even have the power to sever the connections between them and their ancestors? my guess is, no.

d. speaking of irene why on earth was aphmau able to talk to/see irene, they’re literally the same person are they not? did she like, fuckin reincarnate herself without actually doing it?? BUT--i will give it to them, the demon warlock did refer to aphmau as something along the lines of being “one of the 3 parts of her broken soul” or something like that. however, my point still remains. also what are the other two did i miss that or is it never explained

now; if irene in fact did not ‘reincarnate’ her friends then please ignore that little bit right there :)

but yes, those are a few of the problems i have with season 6 off the top of my head. i would go into like, season 4 and 5 more as well, but i honestly didnt feel like it. at some point i might go into other things, like how important laurance could have been to the plot of these later seasons, or HELL, even dante. i might also go into what could have made season 4, 5, and 6 actually good--maybe... a rewrite? perhaps? but im getting too far ahead of myself, so i just leave you with this for now.

and i know that as soon as i post this 15 more things are just going to pop into my head BUT im going to try and not edit this post because why stress myself with that even more

anyways thank you for coming to my tedtalk 

[franki-lew-yo]

I really hate 2d purists. No, not 2d animation. Not 2d animators.

2d purists.

The sad thing is it’s gotten to the point that I really cringe hearing any pro-2D sentiment at all. I hate the arguments I agree with because how often they're misused and weaponized by idiots.

Let me make my stance here clear - 2d is NOT appreciated and 3d is used for everything! The layman Karen-mom who doesn’t have an artistic bone in her body looks at stupidsmooth 3D Grubhub ads and assumes quality cause it “looks more real” (aka ‘rendered’). I know as much is true because I literally have a member of my family who told my sister and I that she thinks 3d is better (and also that she “tolerated THOSE movies for us kids”. Touching words. My sister was taking an animation course by the way). Combined that with the studios either using 2D for cheap stuff or finding good 2d animation too “costly”, I get it and I’m not even any animator. I'm just a worm an illustrator.

but holy HELL -

There’s a backlash from the artistic community that's it's own kind of insufferable and deserve to be addressed.

“(insert2Danimatedfilm) is better BECAUSE it's 2D!”

followed by: "Animation is a visual medium and the quality of the art affects how much the story means !!!!”  

Yes. Totally. Animation is a visual medium and the look and style is important. Sadly, people use this excuse to really obnoxious ends, insisting that design being pretty is '' everything ''. When you treat a movie more as a special effects demo I get why you talk about the artistry at hand; but I’m sorry, visuals are not the only thing important and it’s why I’m also getting sick of the sameElsafacesyndrome rants too! There’s this attitude that's reads as "but it LOOKS better fromaproductionimage/teasertrailerwhichapparentlyisindicativeof all themovieactuallyis so it MUST BE better".

-“3D should only be used to make things look realistic!”

I think I know the logic this criticism is made in response to, and that’s the Sony + Illumination films which look just as good in 2D as they do in three dimensions. I know it feels like people are twisting this medium to try and make it like a classic cartoon when by all means people can and would love a classic cartoon being a classic cartoon. That I get- From the unsung 2D animator’s perspective, that’s more than valid !

But it’s a huuuuuuge slap in the face to 3d in saying it should only be used for "realistic animation" because

1: It’s not like realistic animation could age badly or look uncanny in the next few years. It's almost like technology is constantly improving, which I guess 2d animation never did and it was always the same technique and quality as every film that came after it.

2: The industry does treat 3d as a magic-moneymaker for this reason. Just listen to these people call the 2019 LION KING “live action” as if they’re embarrassed to call it animation. It IS animation! It would be impressive if you acknowledged that what it is, but like the CATS, you basically are treating it as just a neato tool to better your live action and not it's own artform - which it is!

3: By this “three-deeonly gud when real liek in da toystories” non-logic I guess 2d should ONLY be for flowyflowy SPACE JAM cartoons and maybe some Disney*. Just that though. You can’t do anything more with 2d. It’s never supposed to be realistic I guess. Good thing Richard Williams only did 'toons' and just toons that’s why we need 3d in the world I guess.

Wait no - that’s stupid.

"I HAVE to see the “Land Before Time 14″ when it comes out! I mean it’s a 2D animated film!"

Lost in the aether that is Youtube comment chains removed from kid's videos is a stream of this very VERY stupid argument supporting the buying of the 14th LAND BEFORE TIME film because it’s supporting 2D. My sister and I can be found on that chain arguing against this stupidity. All you have is my word, but trust me: it really did happen.

I’m sorry but...no.

Unless you have a friend or a family member who worked on these movies there’s no reason to see this and ESPECIALLY no reason to insist it’s a win for the 2D community if you buy up this crap - and I'm not judging if you do like it, but come on! LAND BEFORE TIME 14 isn't where your money should go if you really like this medium.

What’s so infuriating about this argument is you can tell it’s made by nonanimators. Real animators will tell you to support their movies cause they want some respect for their artform which is why there’s such a push from the PRINCESS AND THE FROGcrowd that you SEE and LOVE every 2d thing out there, regardless of how good it is because any recognition for it is k i n d o f what they're after!

Kiddy sequel schlock isn’t even in the same ballpark as KLAUS or WOLFWALKERS; these films DID have very limited theatrical runs (Klaus so it could be nominated; Wolfwalkers in places where theaters opened up after Covid) and should have been supported because they were labors of love made by people who love animation.

As other people have already pointed out, one of the reasons for the lack of interest in 2000sera2D animation is that the only films released alongside critical+financial 3D hits were cheaper 2D films that either coincided with daytime tv shows or should have been just direct-to-video. It’s not to say art couldn’t come out of these flicks, but dayum if it wasn’t abused as much as the texture software that era's CG used... Point being, should the world ever go back to normal: If you hear about an out-of-town showing an acclaimed 2D animated film, make time to trek out and see THAT!

Don’t give your money to see yet another made-for-tv movie on the big screen because all that tells the studio is: “yeah 2d IS cheap and only good for cheap stuff let’s just keep it cheap. Only 3d is important 8D 8D 8D !!!"

“I don’t understand how it works. So it sucks.”

This text is from an ANIMATOR btw.

“I don’t understand how it works” and “it’s just some computer rendering” is the exact same wave of logic the people who prefer cgi use.

The plebian Karen I mentioned earlier? She understands the basics of 2D animation as much as you did from one of those cruddy flash classes you took in middle-school. She 'understands' the basics cuz she watched how it was made on the DVD features or maybe back on the WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY. To her, the illusion is broken and she’s not impressed by 'just some drawings on paper'. You, an animator, know the process is more complicated and is intrigued by knowing how it’s made - not bored or disinterested -

Neither you nor Aunt Karen have really good cg-animation software at your house and unless you ARE a 3D animator you probably DON’T know all the ins-and-outs of how these movies are modeled, rendered, and animated.

Aunt Karen is bedazzled by them cause she doesn’t know how it works and the technical aspect makes her brain hurt so it might as well be magic and she can feel like a cool kid sharing Minion-memes. Aunt Karen is the nonartistic type who just wants to feel safe. You're not. You want to feel challenged.

I get it: you’re pissed off cause you’re in a field no one, including Aunt Karen, appreciates; told to work in cg which it's an artform you didn’t devote your life to and told to learn it cause THIS style sells! 3D is everywhere and is starting to look like 'garbage' even if you don’t animate 3D models yourself you just KNOW, I guess. Besides, you know all there is to know about 2d!! You know all there is to possibly know about this artform and have to fight this 'war' against "r e a l" animation! And I mean even when 3d software is there to use, it's not like you can actually make anything worth while in it, especially not anything that transcends the medium. Right Worthikids?

TL;DR: This argument is basically just " BWAAAAH I’M NOT GONNA USE IT I HAVE STANDARDS (a chip on my shoulder cuz art should be what I deem it to be) "

“PRINCESS AND THE FROG is-”

There’s a reason I can’t say I truly like PRINCESS AND THE FROG even though it's not even a bad movie! Like, stop reading this and watch PATF if you haven't it's good. It's my 'FROZEN', in that; I see a lot of potential in it I just think it needs some serious rewriting and that bugs me. Always have felt that way, tbh.

I dislike this movie because the response from the animation community seems to be it was perfect and the Academy was just Pixar-crazy with UP ((ftr, the Academy IS Pixar’s bitch and I personally advocate a sequel be made to WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY about Mike Eisner’s sabotage of the 2D department at Disney which is still in place now!- but that’s a story for another day)). I’m sorry but UP was just a better story. So was CORALINE. So was FANTASTIC MR. FOX. Honest to god it feels like poor PATF is brought up as just a talking point and never for it's own worth as a labor of love - which it was! I'd like to honestly know: had PRINCESS AND THE FROG come out now and been cg if it would have even half the defenders for it because now it doesn't "look" like how a Disney movie "should" look...

If you like PatF more than the currant Disney lineup because of it's culture, it's music, it's feminism, it's black representation? Awesome. Great. Those things should be appreciated and I never want that taken away from you. But if you seriously think PatF is better just for how it was animated and looks - I lowkey may hate you.

“ALL OF DISNEY’S LATEST MOVIES SHOULD HAVE BEEN 2D! THEY ALL LOOK AWFUL IN 3D!! ALL OF THEM!”

TANGLED, FROZEN, and MOANA? Yeah. Sure. But um, e x c u s e y o u- WRECK IT RALPH sooooo doesn’t work in 2d! It could have used different between the various worlds but it’s about hopping through different video games. I’m also of the opinion that ZOOTOPIA and BIG HERO 6 are fine the way they are. Their 3d is awesome.

The latest fairy tale Disney films are really big on their place alongside the 2D canon esp in marketing. They keep trying to mimic 2D to varying results though I don't think it works as well as the movie's I'd previously mentioned. Me personally, I would love a mix of 3D and 2D technology, like if the backgrounds in FROZEN still got to be 3D but the characters were handdrawn and shaded ala KLAUS ((sweet sigh)). But even then are they truly unwatchable just based on how they're animated to you?

MOANA would have been incredible in 2D but for the record - I don't think it feels out of place in it's style. It reminds me more of a Pixar movie with the heart of a Disney classic which is it's own just as good.

“2D is the oldest form of animation and it’s being replaced.”

Actually, if we’re talking animation in film, stop motion is the earliest form of animation. The stop motion animated THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE ACHMED and TALE OF THE FOX predate Disney’s SNOW WHITE. And yes: stop-motion IS still a form of animation even if it’s a serious of pictures taken of real life things and not drawings, so don’t you dare come at me with the "but that's not animated"/"Technically it’s LIVE ACTION" crap or I’ll envoke the spirit of Sandman to get you at night.

“Every animated film would look better in 2D! Even PIXAR would look better in 2D!”

Again, Stop Motion.

No, I mean it.

Lemme ask: Would ISLE OF DOGS or FANTASTIC MR. FOX carry any of the same effect if they were generic 90s toons? I know NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS wouldn’t. Christ, don’t even get me started on Svankmajer!

Sometimes the problem is that a movie is envisioned with a specific artform in mind. Pixar started out with toys and bugs for a reason and that’s cuz they were always gonna be a 3d studio and they needed to first overcome the placisity of the models. Over the years they’ve gotten really good at effects and blending unrealistic proportions with real textures (and also not so much- ONWARD and THE GOOD DINOSAUR really needed some different character designs and yeah, I do think would have looked better with a 2d artstyle, but not the ones they had in their films. THE GOOD DINOSAUR needed more realistic-speculative looking dinos and ONWARD needed a grittier HEAVY METAL/BLACK CAULDRON appeal to its designs.) My point being that the problems with these movies aren’t even inherently the animation as much as it is a problem of style. As someone who runs a group speculating different styles and designs for movies and tv shows I’m all for envisioning a 2D ZOOTOPIA or Bluth-inspired FNAF. That’s amazing!

But that’s also the talk of fan artists and nerds and not the professional artists working on visualizing their stories!!

Since I ate, slept, and breathed NIGHTMARE in my youth I’ll use it as an example: All the concept art ever done for TNBC was on paper and 2D was used in the final film. However, even when Tim Burton was thinking of making it just a tv special it was always going to be stop-motion. NIGHTMARE’s puppet cast do work very well in two dimensions, believe me, but the film was made as a love letter to Rankin/Bass and the art form of stop-motion. Skipping to another Henry Selick-helmed project (haha), JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH was also always envisioned as a multimedia film to give it a truly dream-like atmosphere. If you know anything about Henry Selick you’ll know he’s 1) a perfectionist, and 2) loves mixed media and different types of animation and puppetry at once. That’s why he was the perfect pick to direct TNBC at the time, why JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH and CORALINE are so beautiful and why MOONGIRL, his only fully 3d film, doesn’t have the same appeal.

As for what films I couldn’t imagine NOT being 3D? Probably; 9, Padak, Next Gen, Soul, Finding Nemo, the Toy Story films, Wreck-it-Ralph (as previously mentioned), Wall.E, Waltz with Bashir, Robots, Inside Out, Arthur Christmas, The Painting, Happy Feet, Shrek, Enter the Spiderverse, Megamind… just naming a few here.

“I want a traditionally animated film [and by that I mean a 90s-Disney/Don Bluth looking movie] of ‘x'-popular live action/stage thing!”

Okay I’m cheating a bit but it’s my blog and so I’m gonna stick this one in because it’s related.

When I see musings about wanting live-action or CGI shiz to be in 2d again a lot of the time this argument actually boils down to " I want this to look like a 90s Didney movie ". Or, if it’s about animals - " I want it to look like a Don Bluth film! "

Like...there ARE other styles of animation out there...you know that right?

Frack, Disney themselves tried different styles throughout the 90s it’s just that the peak of the Disney renaissance films (LITTLE MERMAID, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, ALADDIN, THE LION KING) and the many imitators that followed tended to have the same look to them where only film/animation nerds kept watching into the era that was TARZAN, HERCULES, and ATLANTIS along with the kids. Aunt Karen wasn't singing Part of your World in the carride with you every day.

The Don Bluth argument is especially irritating because...what exact feeling do you WANT from a movie if it looked Bluthish? Each of the four ‘quintessential’ Bluth movies (NIMH, AMERICAN TAIL, LBT, and ALL DOGS) have such a different feel to them that’s complimented by that style; SECRET OF NIMH is a drama about wild animals trying to understand humans; LAND BEFORE TIME is even more squarely about an animal’s perspective as there’s literally no humans around; AMERICAN TAIL uses animals stowing away on the ship to tell a story about refugees; and ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN is ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN.

What the frack are you even asking for with that because I think there’s a certain flavor to the Bluth-styled oeuvre as well as the 90s Disney catalogue that would clash too much stylistically with some films.

Also come on! Like some Bluthian-style 2d would really fix THE SECRET LIFE OF PETS or SCOOB!, bite me.

I think this fixation solely on these two hand drawn styles and nothing else is based on nostalgia goggles, refusing to step outside the norm and discover different films and feelings than Disney and Bluth, and just preference. Goin back to NIGHTMARE there will always be a special place in my heart for Henry Selick’s stop motion, but I couldn’t imagine CHICKEN RUN or ANOMALISA in it's unique style.

Also I’m tired of every time there’s a "lets make an animatic to ‘x’ musical theater song" it’s reliably just Disneyesque or realistic. WHY envision an animated version of the show at all if it doesn’t have A STYLE to it??!?! I’m sorry but 90s-Disney does NOT fit CABARET!

“3D is so CHEAP now! Why can’t they just do 2D again?”

I think - on the cusp of the 2020s and the Grubhub hatedom, there ARE changing times ahead for 3d and 2d. The general public are starting to get tired of the same looking 3d films and wanting some 2d back, but they don’t have the best resources or opinions on animation to know what it is they want. Meanwhile, the animation community + industry is trying to figure out what to do and you have a lot of turmoil between the monopoly that is the industry, the high standards of the artists, and the mixed wants of the animation fanbase deciding what art needs to be.

It’s a tough business. And in the spirit of that tough business - maybe DON’T act like the means of a film’s production is solely your control, that you know best, and know definitively what the artists should have done....cuz you don't. Sorry my fellow criticalfanomanalysist-folks we DON'T and in an age of standom where fans and critics think it's okay to hackle indie animation studios about not getting their pitched cartoon out fast enough - we need to reserve these discussions to our circles and not treat them as gospel.

3d animation and 2d animation have to share this world. Stop acting like they’re either interchangeable in terms of budget, means of production, or artistry or that one has to be superior to the other.

The industry already says one art form is better (spoiler: it’s always live-action), we don’t need anymore of this purist garbage. Just stick to what you like while trying new things on the side. Be critical while also being compassionate. And remember:

[irrlicht-writes]

the path we choose to walk on Pt.2

Part 2 of my Fix-It! Do note that this is NOT THE END. There will be at least one more part (god hope please) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @insertdeeplyrics @cass-said-i-love-you ALSO SOMEONE WANNA JOIN MY TAG LIST STILL 

READ PART ONE FIRST HERE

Ao3

PART 2: a barn in which we meet

Sam is ecstatic. Eileen just revealed to him that she’s pregnant. Dean has been waiting to see Sam’s reaction and he couldn’t be happier. He’s moved out of their place a month ago and is now living in a rather crappy apartment but he’s always over at their house anyway.

I’m gonna be an uncle, Cas.

It feels weird but Sam is so happy. Sam hugs him and Dean makes sure to tell him that he’s gonna be a great Dad. Of course, Dean is going to be a greater Uncle, no two questions about it. Eileen laughs at them and it feels good to have a family. Miracle barks and Dean laughs to include the dog in the hug.

Cas would be proud of him. Dean has a job. It’s not a great job, but it’s a job outside the life. In time, he’ll make friends, too.

 “He kissed you?” Sam asks three months later and Dean nods.

“What was it like?”

Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t know. David had been flirting with him for about two months now and Dean wants to explore this side of him, it’s just – it’s just difficult. He feels as if he’s done a disservice to Cas.

“It wasn’t Cas,” he says and Sam nods.

“I know, Dean, but – Cas is gone. Don’t you think he’d want you to be happy?”

Of course Cas would want that. Cas would want Dean to get a partner. Cas would want someone in Dean’s life that would do everything the angel had never been able to do – but it still feels wrong. It’s not Cas. Maybe that will be the fault with everyone: they will never be Cas.

“Go on a date with him,” Sam says, “just to see what it’s like. If you don’t like it, then stop it, yeah? But give him a chance, at least. He’s not a creeper, right?”

No, David is nice. Under different circumstances, Dean might’ve even liked him.

“We’ll see,” Dean replies and they both know that nothing will come of it.

It’s not Cas.

 Eileen was eight months pregnant when Sam found a case. “Something’s killing monsters,” he says.

Normally, Dean wouldn’t be too concerned with this – monsters could kill other monsters for all he cared but this – whatever it was, it killed too many too quickly. It would make whole nests mad and then they’d beseech the town.

Dean doesn’t want Sam to go, not so shortly before the birth of his daughter but he can’t go alone, either. So they’re going to go together. If everything goes well, they don’t have to kill something. After all, whatever monster-killer is out there might not be aware of the impact of what they’re doing.

“Let’s go, then,” Dean says.

Eileen is upset about staying behind but she knows it’s better this way. “You look out for him,” she says to Dean and he laughs.

“With my life,” he promises.

 It feels good to take the Impala on a long stretch again. Miracle stayed behind with Eileen and it’s just him and his little brother on the road. It almost feels like the old times. They were rushing in to save the day, heroes once more.

Cas would be proud of them.

“Know anything about that monster-killer?”

“No,” Sam says. “But get this: all the killings happen in the same place, suggesting that it’s not moving around. In fact, it might even be that the other monsters seek it out for whatever reason so maybe it’s acting in self-defense?”

Dean just nods. That might be possible.

A long time ago, he believed that all monsters were evil. But he’d been wrong. They were also just trying to survive. If they were good, they got to live. And if they were bad, they got dead. If one would look at it from this angle, it wouldn’t be that complicated at all.

 It doesn’t take long to arrive at the scene. No humans have come to harm as of yet, so there’s no need to identify as the FBI again. They could just get in and get out.

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Sam warns him and Dean nods. He’s not suicidal. He has his gun and he also has his angel blade. He’d be fine. Castiel’s coat is in the trunk. Dean took it with him wherever he went. He would never be too old for a comfort blanket.

It’s a barn. Somehow, Dean was expecting this. He looks around. There are no monsters than he can hear so he hopes that they’ve come at a good time. The trees though – they look odd. They are all bended outwards as if a bomb had dropped.

“Where are the bodies?”

“Maybe whoever is killing them gets rid of them after?”

Sam shrugs, and Dean mimics him. It doesn’t really matter, either.

“Stay behind me,” Dean says and Sam scoffs. He steps up next to Dean and looks at him.

“Together,” he says and Dean smiles.

 They don’t get attacked when they enter. Maybe they’re not a threat to that thing. The barn has numerous holes in the ceiling so at least a little light is shining through. They cautiously walk further in. Dean is expecting an attack any second and the longer time goes on, the more anxious he gets. He just doesn’t want the monster to jump out of the dark and attack Sam. What would he tell Eileen? Dean is still crap at Sign Language.

There is a loud, and yet muffled sound and Dean points his gun at it. He looks over to Sam who just nods and Dean takes the lead. There. He can see it, nestled against the wall. It’s a blob that looks vaguely human-shaped. Its hand is outstretched but the arm is shaking and the thing looks like it’s covered in goo.

Dean lowers his gun. Whatever it is, it’s afraid. Sam steps up next to him, also putting his gun away.

“Hey,” Sam starts in a soft tone and the thing flinches, “we’re not here to hurt you.”

The hand stays outstretched for a moment but then the arm gets lowered. The poor thing is shaking.

“My name is Sam,” the thing moves a little, “and I’m here with my brother Dean.”

There is a low keening noise and Dean doesn’t know what to make of it.

“We want to help you, if we can.”

The thing falls forward on all fours and drags itself closer to them. Whatever the goo is, it clings tightly to the body and Dean feels sorry for whatever’s underneath. The thing has to stop every few inches, clearly exhausted. Dean feels for whatever it is. It starts punching its hand into the ground and Dean realises that it’s writing something down.

Where, it says.

“You’re in Kansas,” he replies and the thing turns in his direction. It shakes and Dean thinks it’s just about to collapse. How long has it been here, weighed down by this goo? How long has it waited for someone like Sam and Dean to show up?

“Hey,” he says a little softer. “We’re going to get that stuff off of you and then we can talk, like civilised people, yeah?”

The thing’s head droops a little and Dean finds it very endearing. It looks almost like a head tilt. “Okay, so,” he starts but then there are noises outside. Dean realises instantly that more monsters have come.

“Sammy,” he hisses but Sam is already in position. Dean stays close to Goo who’s heaving a little. Dean doesn’t understand why he wants to protect Goo but he finds he simply has to.

Seven guys trot in and Dean guesses that they might be Vampires. Damn, he’s packed the wrong bullets. Still, shooting them would slow them down for a moment so that he could stab them with the knife. It’s easy to slip back into the Killer Dean Winchester and he hates it. What would Cas have to say about all this?

“Ah, the Winchesters! I had believed you had retired. So sad to see I was wrong. But no worry – me and my friends will gladly help you along!”

Damn he hates vampires. They just fucking suck.

“Oh yeah? So how about you eat... this...”

They just exploded. In front of his eyes, they just exploded in a flash of light and Dean looks down at Goo. His hand his outstretched, just like before and something coils in Dean’s stomach. It couldn’t be. No, that’s just ridiculous.

Sam’s looking over at them too but Dean pays him no mind because – because Goo just slumps to the ground and Dean’s heart sinks. No. No no no no no no. Please don’t. He drops his gun and falls to the floor, grabbing Goo and lifting him up. He doesn’t care that he gets the ugly sticky stuff all over himself.

“Cas,” he whispers but Goo doesn’t reply. “Please, please. Cas, please.”

  With Sam’s help, they get Goo into the car. In the back of his head, Dean isn’t looking forward to having to clean Baby from this stuff but he doesn’t really mind. If this is Cas – it has to be, it has to be – he doesn’t care at all. He slides in the backseat and Sam drives towards the nearest motel. Dean shrugs off his jacket and puts it around Goo’s shoulders, hoping to at least fool the majority of people into thinking that this was just another normal person. And if they didn’t – well they are very welcome to lick his boots.

Sam walks into the reception area of this Motel 5 and Dean tries to wake up Goo again but he’s still out like a light.

“Cas,” he says. “Cas, I’ve missed you so much. Please. Please, be real.”

His voice doesn’t sound like his own.

 Together, they drag Goo into their room. Without stopping, they immediately continue on into the bathroom. There’s no tub, sadly – Sam had inquired – so the shower would have to do. They shove Goo inside and turn the warm water on. Dean doesn’t want to use cold water. Cas doesn’t deserve cold water.

“It doesn’t come off,” Dean says and Sam clenches his jaw. Why isn’t it coming off? Dean’s breath starts to pick up until Sam puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe,” he reminds his brother and so Dean takes a deep breath. He nods and Sam turns the water off. The get Goo back out of the shower and haul him into the main room. They lay him upon a bed and Dean sits next to him. Sam gets on his phone, presumably to call Eileen and let her know what’s up.

“Cas,” Dean says quietly. “Please. If it’s you, then please – please give me a sign.”

There is nothing and Dean loses hope. But then he sees a small light flicker in the middle of Goo and Dean’s desperate enough to take it.

“Cas,” he says again and puts his hand on Goo’s face. “I’m here, baby. Tell me how to help you. Please. I need you back, Cas. I can’t – I’ve tried. Cas, I’ve tried to do it without you and I’m fine, y’know but it’s not – it’s not enough, y’know?

There’s this guy. David. He’s nice, yeah? He kissed me a few months ago and – I don’t know. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t – it wasn’t you. But I wanted to try. You’d want me to be happy, to find a partner that’ll love me and – I wanted to try. So I asked him out, Cas. He’s a nice guy. He makes jokes and he likes Baby and he likes Pizza and he even indulges me on my cowboy fetish. Remember when I made you wear that hat? Those were good times, Cas. Anyway, I – we, we had, uh... we had sex. It was just one time, but well, it – I don’t know. It wasn’t bad, I think – I don’t really know, I’ve never done it before, but – it was alright. It was just okay and I’ve told him as much and he looked at me and said you’re still in love with someone else and fuck, Cas, he’s right. I tried to use David as this filler, to try and get over you before I was ready and I –

Fuck, Cas. I love you. I can’t get over you; how do I even start? I think about you every day. Did you hear my prayers? I’ve never stopped. I thought, that maybe, if I pray enough, that you’d hear me someday.”

Dean leans forward and presses his forehead against Goo. It feels gross, but this is Cas.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough last time. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to bring you back. You deserve more than me and I’ll never understand why your dumb ass fell in love with me. Jack became God, y’know? You were right about him. I’m just – I’m so sad you’ll never get to experience the world now. You should’ve gotten the chance to say good-bye to him and I... I...

Cas, please. Come back to me.

I – I know I can live without you. It’ll be empty and cold and sad, but I could. The point is, Cas, I don’t want to. I don’t want to live somewhere where you do not. Even if we can’t go back to the way things were, I need to know – I need to know that you’re alive.

What’s Heaven without its best angel?

What’s the Righteous Man without his saviour?

...

Cas, please. I don’t... I don’t have any other words.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I want to tell you.

I want to hold your hand and I want to kiss your hair and I want to be gross with you and I...

I just want you.

I just...

Please. Cas. Please...”

His throat hurts, and he cries.

*

At night, Dean lies next to Goo. He’s holding Goo’s hand as much as he can and he sleeps. He’s never got to sleep in the same bed as Cas before. He wishes that they would’ve had more opportunities before but it was too late now.

I’ll watch over you.

Dean wishes he could’ve watched over Castiel at least one time.

 Dean wakes by someone shaking him rapidly. He doesn’t want to wake up. Miracle can walk herself. He’s dreaming about Cas walking in a field. He doesn’t want to leave the dream. But the shaking doesn’t stop. So he rolls on his back and blinks angrily at whoever woke him. Sam.

Of course it’s fucking Sam.

“Dean,” he breathes and he there’s this look in his eyes. He’s looking next to Dean and so Dean turns his head and –

“Cas,” he whispers.

Goo is gone and all that’s left is Cas.

Dean cries.

He can’t stop. He doesn’t even try.

 Cas doesn’t really respond to anything when he wakes up. But Dean doesn’t care. Cas is here. Cas is alive. He’s slapped himself several times just to make sure that he was really awake. It’s hard to pry Dean away from Cas even just for a minute.

Sam is worried that Cas is so unresponsive to anything and on some level, Dean is too, but at the moment, he doesn’t care.

“Cas,” is the only thing Dean is really capable of saying and every time he does, he feels like Cas’ eyes snap in his direction at least a little. That’s good, right? That’s some sort of response and that’s good. They’ll figure it out. They always do. Team Free Will was together again and they could tackle everything.

One day after Goo turned into Cas, they made the drive back home. Dean lets Sam drive so that he can stay in the backseat with Cas. It feels so good to have his angel leaning against him. Dean had detested it, but they’ve done a test: they’ve cut Cas with the angel blade and there had been grace shimmering beneath the surface.

On the way home, Dean murmurs to Cas constantly and he wants to believe that the angel can understand him. And even if he can’t – he just wants to talk to Cas. He can’t even count the days since he’s last been so happy.

“I love you,” he whispers again and again and maybe, just maybe, Cas moves his head every time he says it.

 They decide that Cas would stay at Dean’s apartment. Sam had been debating if Cas shouldn’t maybe stay with him and Eileen – after all they had a whole house. But they’d be having a baby pretty soon. Dean was able to devote himself to Cas entirely. And most importantly, Dean doesn’t want to stay away from Cas for any amount of time. He’s utterly convinced that Cas reacted to his voice in the car. Yes, maybe it had been just a coincidence but Dean needs to believe that there is more to it. Cas loves him. He loves Cas.

“Just be careful, Dean,” Sam had said while Dean clutched Cas to his chest. “If anything happens, call me.”

Dean had nodded and ascended the stairs.

Castiel is lying on his couch for most of the day. Dean wants to believe that Cas watches him. He enjoys this – being watched by Cas. It had been too long. He couldn’t stop smiling because he’s happy.

Cas is alive. Cas is here.

It’s like a dream come true.

At night, Cas lies in bed next to him and Dean presses soft kisses against his temple. He doesn’t dare do more and he’s content like this. He holds Castiel’s hand the entire night and if he wishes hard enough he can imagine that Castiel squeezes his hand back.

 “Dean,” Castiel says and Dean cries.

Castiel doesn’t speak again but Dean can’t stop crying.

 “Sam just called,” Dean informs Cas who is lying on the couch. Cas’ eyes flicker to him, half-understanding. “Eileen just went into labour. I wanna go there, Cas, I wanna meet my niece. Do you... do you want to come?”

He’s not expecting a response. He always wants one, but he never expects it.

“I,” Castiel says and his voice is terribly hoarse but Dean drops the phone nonetheless.

“Want,” Castiel keeps on saying before he hacks up an ugly cough. Dean cries and rushes over to him.

Cas looks at him with tired eyes, but he sees him, he looks at him, he’s here –

“Anything you want, baby,” Dean whispers. “Anything you want.”

 The nurses tell Dean that Sam and Eileen are inside but that he’s not allowed to go in. They were nice enough to give him a wheelchair for Cas – as much as Dean loves to pretend he’s a strong macho man, Cas is still six feet tall and really fucking heavy.

“They’re just inside there,” Dean says to Cas who’s looking at the floor. “Sam’s gonna be a dad.”

He can scarcely believe it himself. Sammy’s going to be a dad.

“Father,” Castiel says and Dean smiles. This is good. This is so good. Castiel can hear him and he can even respond.

“I’m so proud of you, Cas.”

Castiel looks at him with his big, blue, unblinking eyes. He frowns. Fuck, Dean had missed him so much.

“Jack,” he says and tries to look around.

“He’s God now, Cas. It’s like you always said – he’s destined for great things.”

Cas looks a bit upset.

“Goodbye,” he rasps and his eyes become frantic. “Where,” he says and starts coughing.

Oh god, no no no no. Cas is coughing up the same black goo he had been covered with.

“Cas, Cas, baby, please,” Dean whines.

Cas’ whole body shakes and Dean can tell that he’s trying to reign the coughs in. His good, pure, strong angel. Cas looks up at Dean, heaving heavily with tears in his eyes.

Dean presses kisses on his face – his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin.

“So good. You’re so good. We’ll fix this. I promise. We’ll fix this, together. I’m not letting you go. I’m never letting you go again, Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas says quietly and slumps against him. Dean can feel him breathing and he wraps his arms around him.

“I love you,” Dean says and Cas presses his forehead against Dean’s neck.

*

It takes ten hours, but then Dean officially becomes an uncle. Castiel had been asleep for a good amount of time, but at least he hasn’t coughed again. Of course, Dean is a bit worried about the sleeping but he’ll figure that out. All that matters is that he’s got Cas by his side and that he’s now got a little baby girl to spoil.

Once he gets the clear, he rolls Cas into the room and Sam and Eileen both look tired but also so, so happy. They light up even more when they see Cas.

“Cas,” Sam says and smiles at him. Cas looks up at Sam and blinks slowly.

“Sam,” he replies hoarsely.

Sam looks to Dean in utter disbelief and Dean can just smile. “Show us the baby, yeah?”

Eileen moves the blanket aside a bit so that they can take a look at the little bundle of joy. Her face is all scrunched up and she’s just adorable.

“Sammy, are you sure she’s really your daughter?”

Sam shoves him playfully. “You’re such a dick.”

“Baby,” Cas says and Eileen smiles at him.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It doesn’t seem like Cas understands at first, but then he nods. He raises his arms and Eileen places her daughter in them without a second thought. Both Sam and Dean are ready to interfere in case Cas’ arms would not be steady enough to hold the baby but it turns out they needn’t have worried.

“Hello,” Cas says to the child who wiggles a bit in his arms.

“Her name’s Maria,” Sam supplies and Castiel slowly nods.

“Maria,” he says. He slowly puts a finger on her tiny nose. His finger glows and Dean worries. What’s going on?

Cas looks at Eileen but he doesn’t move to give the baby back. Eileen just looks at him, then she slowly nods and smiles. She signs something and Cas turns his head to Sam.

“Fix,” he says. “Heart.”

“She... she has a heart problem?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Not... not anymore. I. I fix. I. Take. I...,” he closes his eyes in strain. “It’s gone now. They. Would. They would not have. Noticed. It’s small. But I. I took it.” His voice sounds like it pains him greatly. He slumps in his chair a bit but holds Maria tight.

“Dean,” he says and Dean’s by his side in a flash. “I want. I want to see Jack.”

 *

 When they are back at home, Dean prays to Jack. Cas fell asleep in the car as soon as they started driving back home and he hasn’t woken up since. But he also hasn’t coughed again which is probably a good sign.

“Hey, Jack,” Dean says, looking out the window. He’s put Cas into bed and is sitting next to him. The soft breathing behind him calms Dean and he wouldn’t move away from it for the world.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we got Cas back. I don’t know how, if you were involved or not and if you can even hear me, but – he’s back, Jack. Cas is back.”

It still sounds like a dream.

“And he – Jack, he wants to see you. He didn’t get to say good-bye, y’know? He really misses you and, Jack, he’s – he’s sick or something. We found him covered in some black goo – you know, it kinda looked the Empty Goo thing, but I don’t – the goo is gone now, but he’s weak and he was coughing that stuff up earlier today and – I just... Jack, please come here. Fix him? He deserves it, yeah? So... just please, when you have a moment off from being God, could you... just pop in?”

Dean isn’t expecting Jack to instantly appear in the room, but – he somehow is. He sighs and turns around to Castiel fully. He’s sleeping peacefully and Dean smiles. He takes Cas’ hand and softly strokes the skin.

Miracle miracles herself into the bedroom and sniffs at Cas extensively. Cas doesn’t react to her but Dean smiles at the dog. He isn’t even sure if Cas knows that there’s a dog here. Miracle clearly doesn’t know what to make of the strange new man yet and Dean can’t blame her.

“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, girl,” he says and Miracle huffs. She looks at him expectantly. Dean laughs.

“But this is Cas, yeah? They guy I told you about. The guy that died? I’m sorry, girl. I’ll make it up to you when he’s better. And he’s getting better, he just needs a little more time, yeah? So... how about you help? If we both shower him with love, then he’ll get back on his feet even quicker, yeah? And then all three of us can go on a walk together.”

At the word “walk”, Miracle perked up and started wagging her tail. She then proceeds to climb up on the bed and snuggle up to Cas as if she had actually understood Dean. And he has a pretty good feeling that she actually had. Dean laughed and lays down himself, intertwining his fingers with Cas. His niece had just been born, Cas had been incredibly responsive today and everything would work out.

They just need a little more time.

A little more time, and then all of them could sit a table together, enjoying a family dinner.

[rinharu-purple]

About S2 PV CH 10-13

Yes, it is a belated post, since the chapters are out. But you still might enjoy reading this 😄😄

Starting with Kiro/Helios with a mullet (I can’t believe that he’s wearing a mullet).

He is in a seemingly abandoned venue with a fading microphone. Maybe he is imagining himself on the stage again? Someone has also pointed out that he might be deaf, because of the hear aid, but the singers always wear one on stage, so I don’t think that’s the case.

And then we switch to the embodiment of awesomeness goes by the name Gavin in a rooftop bar, chilling with a bottle of Tiger beer. Greeting MC with a “I am not here for you”, which is ironic, because in the previous PV 6-9 he said the exact opposite:

The way I see it, Gavin is giving us the good old push and pull treatment. Thanks babe :/

---

Victor is probably overseas (San Francisco maybe, it looks like the Golden Gate bridge in the background) and is buying a New CLA? (the letters on the background). But its a Maybach you’re leaning on Vic (and nobody buys them with the Mercedes star anymore btw, its too old school, but because it's a Maybach I'll let it slide unnecessary info)

His smile while texting with MC is very cute (probably his inside voice his calling her dummy but as long as it cant be heard from the outside we’re cool).

And the way the picture suits to the melody in those 4 single piano notes is really nice.

Lucien is back to his assassin mode, stealing stuff and going behind people’s backs, playing all sides against each other, scheming and such. Same old same old. Gotta admit though, that I like him like this the most. especially when he gets caught by the MC and keeps his composure like “Haven’t you heard? I am the lizard king in this no horse town” Smooth.

Nothing on Shaw. Sorry.

Joker is finally getting a sprite and is out there to get our LIs. Gathering proof on them etc. Let’s see where it goes.

Enter the angst:

Victor warns MC about pretending not to know him. Probably because he is already aware of the facht, that they are being watched, so he might be trying to conceal his relationship to MC, but I have no idea, how he is planning to do that, when they are both working for the BS.

But more importantly. Victor, a beige suit, with a black/brown shirt and a blue tie?!! You are an extremely rich guy, don’t you think that you should have the fashion sense which goes with it? Just because it looks good on Gavin doesn’t mean, it would look good on you too. Try something like this maybe?

While I am busy criticizing Victor’s Printemps ‘21 prét á porter look, this scene pops up out of nowhere accompanied by the melody going all crescendo, hitting me HARD:

I don’t even know where to start in this 4,5 seconds of heartbreak. Bullet points help:

- Symbolism is very strong with this scene. MC is shown falling into an inferno-like abyss with all red-fiery colors. And Gavin is responsible for it. 

- Gavin is wearing his trench coat from S1 CH1, reminiscence to the start of the story. Also the red ribbon part of MC’s pullover might have been put there to symbolize the red string of fate. Having read @cheri-translate s translation on Gavin’s R&S earlier today about their inevitable attraction, it  doesn’t feel like a far fetched speculation. Their souls are bound together and yet their hands are pulled apart in a way. We are so used to seeing Gavin and MC hand in hand or embracing, this feels like being hit by a truck. It also gives me some break-up vibes. Specifically because MC is reaching out for his hand but Gavin doesn’t move an inch.

- I need to say this though, his body and his face tell us two different stories. His body is stiff and doesn’t move, but look at his face:

Two things that stand out is 1) Ohmaygadheissohandsomeitmustbeillegal just kidding, not Gavin-stan gotta Gavin-stan swh 1) He is slightly biting his lip (the down curve on the edge of his mouth), so he is restraining himself from holding her (though I am almost certain that he would still subtly soften her fall with his evol). And 2) His eyes are filled with mixed emotions and his brows are furrowed very very little. He is showing only micro mimics so I am guessing that he is also trying to hide his relationship to MC, much like Victor.

Helios cutting MCs hair makes me only think about the Halloween 2020 event. No other comment on this. Again, PG is giving us some good throwbacks.

And the final blow with Lucien. The way its shown and the filter thats put on the scene hints towards a dream sequence. I don’t think it happens in the real world. Because for Lucien to lose the only source of color in his life is probably his worst fear. So having such a nightmare will probably lead to him distancing himself from MC even more.

OR, MC is going S1 CH11 all over again but this time around with Lucien. OR OR S2 CH 10-13 is S1 11-14 all over again, thus history repeats itself. Victor and MCs’ scene reminds me of this:

Helios threatening MC is much like MC finding out about Ares and as Areas threatens her not to be caught by him again.

MC falls again, but this time Gavin doesn’t catch her mid air.

Pretty sure its such my mind going to odd places, but the parallels are there, right? RIGHT? 

Anyways this post didn’t come out as I desired it to be, probably because I took my sweet time contemplating it and the new chapter are out, so many of you must already know where I am wrong lol.

But above all CH32 falls tomorrow!!!!The most anticipated moment is right around to corner guys and gals!!!! 

[thecottageinthedark]

Sorting Persona 4

Here again with another Sorting Hat Chats post! This one’s for Persona 4. Full disclaimer; this is based just on the game, not the anime. Also it’s behind a cut cause it is LONG. And has spoilers.

The system I’m using is explained here by @wisteria-lodge.

The Persona 4 MC, whose name is either Souji Seta or Yu Narukami depending on which supplemental materials you go by, is a really REALLY loud Badger secondary. His power is based on making Social Links with NPCs and shifting to become whatever they need-and also on patiently grinding to level up his attributes. And because he lives so much in this secondary-plus the fact that on a meta level he’s kind of a stand-in for the player-his Primary is hard to see.

But where it gets revealed in the end is the decisive moment when the ending you’re going to get is decided. The Investigation Team have discovered that Namatame’s been putting people into the TV, and thus are assuming he’s the murderer-and it’s become horribly personal, because one of the people he did that to was Nanako, and even though she’s been rescued, she’s deathly ill thanks to the TV World’s poison.

And now you-and the MC-have a choice. The IT are baying for Namatame’s blood, ready to kill. One Badger Primary method would be to appeal to the fact that he’s a person, you can’t just kill people….but nobody’s listening. Another would be to dehumanise him and say, he’s a murderer, he needs to die for the sake of everyone-going along with all the fury of the group. A Lion would lash out too-less because everyone’s doing it and more from their own gut feeling, but that would still lead to dead Namatame. A Snake might kill Namatame because he hurt Nanako...or, in the Golden remake, if they’ve done Adachi’s social link, they might cover for him. Either way, they’d be prioritising an inner circle member.

And all of those get you bad endings. Especially the Snake choice to cover for Adachi.

What gets the good ending, the happy ending where the MC is fulfilled and at peace, is to ignore all the emotion that’s running so high, and order everyone to step back and take time to think about whether the theory of Namatame being the killer makes sense. Pounce on the niggling little detail that doesn’t fit, and realise that the assumption everyone is labouring under isn’t true. And then prioritise the actual truth over personal loyalties or emotional reactions.

Bird Primary.

Because of course. This is a detective story. Your party are called both the Investigation Team and the Seekers of Truth. Even the title song hints at it; find the truth (Bird) by getting together with others (Badger).

Yosuke Hanamura’s a young, immature Snake Primary at game start, with the selfishness typical to that. His Shadow throws that back in his face, and he realises he doesn’t like being an asshole whose secret gut reaction to murders happening is ‘well at least I’m not bored anymore now something is happening in this dead-end town’.

So he does two things pretty much at the same time; he widens his inner circle to let in first Souji and then the rest of the IT, and he adds a model on top to let him care about things outside that circle. I think it’s a Lion model-a young Lion, just like his Snake, that edges into Glory Hound, but keeps hold of the idea that you should do certain things because they’re just right.

(It’s not based on the MC, though the MC is undoubtedly his most important person, who he even calls his partner. But then, as I said, the MC’s Bird is very quiet, so it’d be hard for Yosuke to perceive it well enough to mimic it. I think it’s actually based on Chie, who is after all the inner circle member he has known longest!)

And his secondary? Yosuke’s a support guy. He lifts his friends up. His family run Junes, and he leverages that connection to create a base location for the IT and secure a portal into the TV world that’s big enough to be usable. When Teddie comes to the human world, it’s Yosuke who gives him a place to stay. He’s a Badger secondary, and again, this makes perfect sense. The Lover sorting. No wonder so much of the fandom ships him with the MC.

Chie Satonaka is LOUD and BRASH and if you are a jerk she will KICK YOU IN THE FACE. She is so goddamn Lion Secondary, and utterly unapologetic about it.

Her primary, I think, is Lion again. The reason she has gotten possessive of Yukiko (as her Shadow calls her out on) isn’t that she wants Yukiko to be just hers-it’s that she wants to be Yukiko’s knight. Saving the princess is actually a textbook Lion cause. It lets her feel heroic and brave.

But that’s not good for either of them. Damsel in distress is a shitty role, one that doesn’t allow Yukiko to be strong and capable herself, and Chie pushing Yukiko into that role is really straining their relationship. It’s also something that Chie herself knows is wrong-that’s why her Shadow accuses her of it. (“I am a Shadow, the true self...”)

So instead Chie changes gears, because oh look a new Cause just popped up! Find the killer and bring them to justice! And on top of that, there’s always sexist prats to kick.

Yukiko Amagi models Badger Primary, because it’s expected of her. Running an inn is a really Badger kind of job. She also models Badger Secondary, for the same reasons. She feels this is who she’s meant to be; sweet, gentle, socially adept, community-focused and hard-working. The traditional Japanese ideal of womanhood.

But it chafes. The weight of societal expectations feels crushing. She doesn’t want to do stuff just because she’s meant to, because people think she should. She’s an Internal Primary, and needs to follow the voice of her own heart.

And where that heart leads her...is back to the Amagi Inn, except now she’s decided that she’s doing this for herself. She needed to feel that she could actually choose to not inherit the inn, before she could realise that she wanted to run it. She’s a Snake Primary, and the inn is important to her because it’s hers.

Her secondary...actually I get the feeling she’s like Toph Beifong of Avatar, a Snake who likes to spend most of her time in neutral. She is delightfully quirky and weird, and owns that, but she doesn’t charge like a Lion and she’s comfy with wearing masks when the situation calls for it.

Kanji Tatsumi panics at the idea that he might be gay, and caretakes like a boss, and that might look at first sight like a Double Badger who’s scared that he might be one of the people he’s used to dehumanising. His Shadow screams that it wants to be accepted...but what calms it is when Kanji himself accepts it, and says that this resolution is about being true to himself. Kanji’s a Double Lion who burnt his primary because being given shit for the feminine, queer-coded parts of himself made him lose faith in his internal compass, worrying that it was leading him somewhere that he viewed as bad. Internalised homophobia’s a bitch of a thing.

Accepting his Shadow is the start of Kanji healing his primary-letting go of shame for being an oddball and telling the world to go fuck itself if it thinks it can make him conform. He does model Badger Secondary-as I said, he caretakes like a boss-but that’s more a thing he does as a gift to others. When it comes to solving problems, he charges in swinging, ready to beat up anyone from biker gangs to otherworldly monsters.

Rise Kujikawa is a cheerful, shameless Snake Primary, loving and ambitious. She became an idol to make friends, and enjoys the fame it gets her. And when she needs to take a break for the sake of her mental health, she has no compunctions about doing so.

But she needed that break because the idol life was stressing her out-unsurprisingly, it’s a really intense life. And the particular problem she had was to do with the conflicting expectations the public has of celebrities. Perfection is demanded...but so is authenticity.

Rise realised that she was face-shifting as an integral part of her career, and this knowledge sent her into a tailspin. The fans don’t like the real Rise Kujikawa-they like Risette. But who is the real Rise Kujikawa? She doesn’t know! It’s frightening! What if she’s just made of smoke and mirrors? How does she find out what’s underneath?

And the answer she comes to is that there is no real Rise Kujikawa...which is the same as saying that there is no false one. Rise is Risette is Rise, it’s all just her, adapting to the context as she needs to. She’s a Badger Secondary, and the act of performance is the true self.

And for her, that’s a good answer-it brings her peace. But now we need to talk about Teddie.

Because just hearing Rise say ‘there’s no real me’ sends Teddie into a Shadow crisis right there.

He completely fucking loses it. He’s a denizen of the TV world-he’s been immune to it all this time, never manifesting a Shadow, but this is what breaks him. And that just screams Bird Lion. It’s his Buzz Lightyear moment-or rather his first Buzz Lightyear moment, because there are two. This is the first, and he survives it by retreating into his Secondary. It allows him to bring Shadow Teddie under control...but this isn’t sustainable. He’s realised something terrible and can’t avoid that knowledge indefinitely.

And soon enough he admits it to himself (and to the MC). He is a Shadow, that somehow became self-aware. His Truth was never true. He can’t handle it, he has no idea how to even exist, and he outright tells the MC that he intends to commit suicide.

He recovers, though-and he does so because the MC tells him Nanako survived. That’s the first thing that gives him a glimmer of hope, because his Truth already had some Snakey elements in there about chosen people and ambitions. He comes back from the brink, reshapes his system to centre those Snake principles, and returns to the side of his friends.

Lastly, Naoto Shirogane, our other queer-coded character. (I’m using she pronouns for the sake of canon here-but I’m a firm believer in nonbinary Naoto, for the record.) I think she’s a Bird secondary-the only one of those here, jeez. She’s just so analytical. She’s a rapid-fire Bird too, Detective Prince working on a case, squarely in the middle of her comfort zone. But push her out of it-into a normal teenager social situation, say-and watch her squirm!

She has a Bird Primary performance, too. But performance is the operative word here. She’s trying to look adult and smart and collected, in order to be taken seriously by the police officers she works with. And she is smart, mind you, but that’s not the why of her though it is the how. It’s not Naoto who goes ‘wait, let’s think about this, we need more information’ at the crucial point, but the MC, who really is a Bird Primary. Naoto was the one to suggest doing a little vigilante justice vis-a-vis murdering Namatame.

Her real Primary is Lion. Being a detective is a Cause for her, not a Truth, and she is blazingly certain of her own sense of what’s right-so much so that she doesn’t stop and check it against other people’s. And she inspires people! She doesn’t even mean to, and certainly doesn’t know why, but she is just so cool that people flock to her and admire her. ‘The Detective Prince’ is, when you think about it, a really Lion Bird kind of title!

Her Shadow has two issues with her. First, it harps on the gender angle. Hey, self, there’s that thing about your identity that you’ve been refusing to think about! You need to go poke at it! And then it breaks down into a scared child. Self, your performance is eating you alive. You need to do it, yes, the Cause demands it, but you also need to be able to stop sometimes and let yourself have emotions!

In short:

MC/Souji/Yu: Bird primary, Badger secondary

Yosuke: Snake primary, Badger secondary, models Lion primary

Chie: Lion primary, Lion secondary

Yukiko: Snake primary, Snake secondary, with Badger primary and secondary models that start out pretty unhealthy for her. 

Kanji: Lion primary that starts out burnt and begins to unburn after his Shadow fight, Lion secondary. Models Badger secondary.

Rise: Snake primary, Badger secondary

Teddie: Bird primary, Lion secondary. Falls dramatically and recovers by shaping his system to be more Snakelike.

Naoto: Lion primary, Bird secondary, performs Bird primary

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: Get Out, Get Gone

Yet more deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest! And also another giftfic I never finished, because that’s just who I am as a person! \o/ 

@ghostfiish did this truly excellent art of Danny’s transformation rings as a galaxy way back when that I promptly lost my whole entire shit over, and also took it as an opportunity to get some kind of manic with the writing style. That, combined with my sort-of accidental, sort-of intentional smashing yet more rad headcanons into it until the whole thing collapsed under its own weight. Still, I remain very fond of this one and what I was trying to do back in 2014, so here we are. 8.7k’s nothing to sneeze at, at least.

Oh, and! While we're at it, have an old Danny playlist I never got around to sharing that fits the mood this fic is going for. Title comes from To Kill a King's "Bloody Shirt (Bastille Remix)," which is unfortunately not included on the Spotify playlist.

=

There’s a weight to you now that wasn’t there before. You’d think with your powers—

(and doesn’t it feel strange to call them that, when you shake and shiver at the sight of your bones under your meat, when you walk down the stairs and your feet don’t touch anything at all)

—you’d weigh less, be less. A thing of smoke, and ectoplasm, and all that awful electricity arcing through your nerves. But that's not what happened. 

You remember that day with a surreal nightmare quality, memories fuzzing and skittering like white noise in your skull. Pain and green light and being so, so certain that had been it. Zap! That’s all she wrote. But it wasn't, and here you are, hovering three inches off the grass and praying no one will see, that no one will know.

You aren’t less for all that’s changed, for all that’s changed in you. Tucker and Sam haven’t said anything about it, and it’s clear they don’t have a clue. Your first—

(disastrous, embarrassing)

—fight against the Lunch Lady knocked you right out. They had to carry you all the way home from school after you failed to stop her. It’s a wonder nobody stopped them, dragging your sorry carcass across town. If either of them had noticed, if either of them could have noticed, they would have told you. Or worse, they wouldn’t have managed to get you home at all.

You noticed it when you changed. Not the first time, in the shadowed, silver throat of the Portal—

(electricity cooking you from the inside out, the Portal writhing, burning, tearing itself into existence, a physical hole ripped so cleanly between realities even your parents don’t understand it and they built the damn framework, boiling ectoplasm splashing on you, over you, inside you, changing you forever)

—but after. Changing back and forth without any control, cringing behind dumpsters and hedges, tossing desperate prayers skyward that nobody had seen the light, that nobody had seen you change from kid to freak. So much of you changes when this strange, alien light stretches across you, not just your clothes and eyes and hair, no, you’re different now down to your cells, down to the very structure of your DNA. You know, you’ve checked. So much of you is different, it’s a wonder you didn’t figure it out sooner.

When you change, you’re heavier. Heavier. Not like ten pounds or something any normal kid might stress over. You become the kind of heavy that leaves brushstroke smears in asphalt, reduces sturdy brick walls to dusty rubble, punches craters through solid ground. It hurts when you fall, god does it hurt. But your bones never shatter. Your guts never liquefy. Your brain never dribbles out your ears. How? How can you possibly survive the beatings every new ghost is so eager to give you? 

Ah, but there's never any time to think about it though, not really. No time for anything but a raw, thready panic and clumsily scrawled homework copied five minutes before the bell. Your chance to tell your parents came and went, and now there’s always another ghost attacking the city.

Mom and Dad are so happy now. You’ve never seen them happier than this, with the stuff of your grade school nightmares on the rampage. It’s proof they aren’t crazy, proof they haven’t wasted their whole lives on a pipe dream, proof that everybody who ever called them quacks were wrong. Good for them, you guess. Meanwhile you’re picking yourself out of the wreckage of another storefront, glass needled all down your spine, and you can’t help but marvel at the damage your body has done. Can do. Will do.

Because you’re stronger, you’re getting stronger every day. The weight in you that your Sam and Tucker don’t—

(can’t)

—notice grows more noticeable, and after a few fights you're quicker, too. And perhaps you're changing still, perhaps the accident isn't done with you yet, because one day there’s sickly green light at your fingertips, and in no time at all you can manipulate the energy buzzing inside you—

(the electricity and hot ectoplasm from the accident screaming through you, out from your palms and striking down the things that used to scare you as a little kid, back when door knobs and faucets were out of reach of your tiny fingers and there was so much dark in your big big house, and now your hands trail light like after images from staring at the sun too long, now you can patch your hurts up by the light of your own blood, now you're learning that you don’t need to be afraid of what hides in the dark anymore)

—in ways you never thought possible. Sure, lots of what you do is learned the hard way, mid-battle against sizzling green things with teeth like hunting knives, running on instinct and adrenaline and terror all tangled up in your throat. Lots more is later, when it’s quiet and safe again, practicing things you’ve seen other ghosts do again and again and again until you can mimic it, improve it, make it yours.

But no ghost you fight has the same heaviness as you do. No improbable weight that defies the logical mass of their ectoplasm. If it’s big, it’s heavy. If it’s small, it’s light. Unexpected logic from creatures that defy logic in every other way. 

There’s a lesson you learn the hard way, testing the strength of these invaders against your bruised and splitting knuckles. You learn caution. You learn restraint. If you punch them hard enough, some ghosts, the little formless ones your parents have captured once or twice now, burst like water balloons—a hard pop of searing green, an overwhelming smell-taste of citrus and hot pennies. Too much of your supernatural strength pressed into the soft hide of a monster and the end result is a glowing puddle where someone used to be. 

You learn this lesson quickly. You learn that even when you’re fighting for your life, you’ve got to hold back. You defend, you protect. Death scares you too much to risk killing—

(is it killing when it’s already dead, where does a ghost go when it dies, is there something more to the Ghost Zone than what you’ve glimpsed with your own eyes or is that it, is that all, have you erased someone from reality forever, these are the questions that make your stomach hurt, that make it hard to breathe, that make it hard to fake a smile when Jazz asks if something’s wrong)

—something so much like yourself. Even if it’s got teeth like hunting knives.

You think you’re an anomaly, a freak, the only one stupid enough to walk into a Ghost Portal and zap yourself full of juice that by rights should have killed you—

(and a little part of you wonders if that isn’t just what happened, if you’re just a dead thing walking around in your body, wearing it like a meatsuit and waiting for the rot to show, but it’s been a month, it’s been months, and you eat more and you sleep less, not because you don’t need it but because there’s never any time, and you’ve grown another inch and there’s new definition to your muscles, and that all must mean you’ll be okay, that you are okay, it has to)

—until Wisconsin. Until Vlad.

He’s in the same boat as you, plus twenty years of experience and enough self-made loneliness to turn him bitter and crazy and dangerous. He wants Dad dead and Mom his, like she’s some kind of carnival prize he can win if he throws his weight around enough. Swing the mallet, hit the bell, and congratulations! The woman you haven't spoken to in twenty years who has made her own life without you is now yours to take home! Ugh.

But god, he can hit hard. Lightning, real lightning, nothing like the weak little zaps of electricity inside you, rattles at his fingertips like a living thing, furious burning strikes of pain, and he knocks you aside like he’s bored. You have a thousand questions, but he won't give you a single answer unless you concede defeat or whatever he wants, so it looks like you’ll just have to beat the answers out of him instead. Who cares if he’s got twenty years on you? He’s not out most nights pummeling wayward ghosts back into the Ghost Zone. He’s not out most days saving people from ghosts with bloodthirsty, power-hungry vendettas. What you lack for in time and experience you make up in rooftop fistfights and stolen first-aid kits. 

Sure you managed to outwit him—

(barely, hardly at all, he just wanted to save face in front of Mom, if he hadn’t cared about that, if he’d just tried overshadowing Mom instead it all could have turned out so differently, and doesn’t that thought make it hard to sleep the first few nights back home)

—but you can’t stop thinking of what it had been like to fight him, of what it was like to see another person do all that you can and so much more. You remember every second of each fight, like it’s been burned across your eyelids. You replay it all every time you blink for days, for weeks. It’s easy as thought to recall the light arcing around his waist as he’d transformed. Just like yours, and yet nothing like yours. The color, sure, that had been the obvious difference. When you change it’s a white light, sharp and searing enough to leave stars in your eyes if you look at it. His transformation—

(black like cave darkness, black like a power outage, black like the vastness between stars, sucking in light like a hungry thing, like it’d swallow you whole if it had had the chance)

—had been like a punch to the gut even before he’d buried his fist in your gut. You’d known without words, known in some primitive bit of brain that still looked up at the night sky and thought magic before science, you had known. You and Vlad were made out of the same mess, but maybe, just maybe, those twenty years were stacked against him.

Trouble is, the transformation is so quick you can’t make much out but the light/non-light of yours and his, and luckily—

(unluckily?)

—he’s all the way in Wisconsin so you don’t have many opportunities for a closer look at his. You ask Sam and Tucker to take pictures and videos, change back and forth so often you almost forget which side of you is which, but the quality is never good enough to see what you know is there—

(but can’t explain, not with words, even though you try for the benefit of your friends because they’re the ones there for you when everything else has gone topsy-turvy, but you’re just a kid who leaks green when dead people hit you too hard, just a kid with bad grades and a lot of questions to evade, and what you’re trying to pinpoint frame by frame is something so beyond your vocabulary you can only shrug, can only say you want to know more about your powers and hope this is one of those white lies nobody catches you in the act of)

—so you stop.

Do you give up? No, but there are more important things to focus on. It isn’t shelving your questions so much as putting them on the backburner. There are ghosts to deal with. Ghosts that want to hurt you, ghosts that want to hurt humans, more and more ghosts with strange and terrifying abilities pouring out from the Portal all the time. Closing the Portal doesn’t slow them any, which doesn’t make any sense to you. Then again, Dad was up to his elbows in most of the Portal’s guts and wiring, so applying logic to any inch of it is pretty pointless. You’ve learned not to ask too many questions about anything with a Fenton sticker slapped on it.

You’re busy now, busy all the time, bruised and burned and even stitched up all the time. Super strength is only so good when you’re fighting things with teeth like hunting knives. But it’s whatever, it’s no big deal, really. Because you’re keeping people safe. You’re learning more about the Ghost Zone and the things that inhabit it. You’re learning more about yourself; your powers, your weaknesses, how quick you can be with a snarky quip. Yeah, your parents are aiming guns and questions at you. Yeah, teachers with red pens and detention slips are hounding after you. And yeah, you’re fourteen years old bare-knuckle fighting monsters and no one ever says thanks because they think you’re just like every other ghost out there or maybe that you’re some human-loving freak—

(and when you think of your life like this, in lists of who wants answers and who wants to see you bleed, it sounds so bad, it sounds like you should be one inch away from a complete breakdown, but is it weird to say you’re happy, is it weird to say you couldn’t imagine your life any other way)

—yet you grin through a mouthful of red-and-green and keep going. Elated? Maybe, sometimes. Scared? Absolutely, sometimes. You’re just a kid with eyes that flare like headlights when somebody’s pissed you off. 

It’s only right to be scared, sometimes.

Still, it’s the weight of you that keeps you grounded, keeps you human when you need to be. Sit in a chair, walk across a bridge, it all makes the same creak under you as it would for Sam and Tucker. But take one of Skulker’s shoulder rockets to the face, you leave a crater in Central Park so big they decide to just turn it into another duck pond. A permanent new addition to the park, and all your face gets is a nasty bruise Dash takes the credit for. You let him, because Lancer overhears. Dash is the one getting detention for once, and there’s a nasty satisfaction to be found there.

You and Jazz share a bathroom, and she’s got a scale she keeps in the towel cupboard. Curious, you take it out one day after school and try to weigh yourself. Last time you checked, you were somewhere near 120, puberty stretching you faster than your appetite can keep up. This time, the numbers whirl past 280 pounds before the scale makes a metallic groan and crumples like tissue paper under your sneakers. Sheer reflex launches you into the air, and you bounce off the ceiling with your knees hugged so tight to your chest you can hear tendons creak, your heart a thundering jackhammer in your chest. Thank god you’re home alone, because you hover there for who-knows how long, too scared the floor will crack under your illogical, impossible weight, too scared you’ll plummet straight down to the hard steel of the lab if you try to stand, too scared you might plummet even further.

When you finally do scrounge up the courage to touch down, an air bubble in the old linoleum crackles under your heel and you damn near jump out of your skin. After that, all you can do is laugh and laugh until your sides hurt. You throw Jazz’s scale out in a dumpster a block away and never tell her what happened to it.

What does this mean? Is the weight of you optional? If you think about it too hard, does it become real? What about when you’re fighting, causing all that property damage the city hates you for? You’re not thinking of the strangeness of your mass during a brawl, you’re thinking in terms of survivability. Punch this hard to win, get punched this hard to lose. What about when you’re thinking about it at school? Why don’t you break your desk, or the floor, or the stairs?

You don’t know. Your parents might be able to figure it out if you told them, but you don’t. Knowing about you, about what you really are—

(a freak, a monster, an accident, an anomaly bleeding out energy with every burst of green light you bury into the spiny hides of other monsters, who knows how long until your white rings burn black, if one day you’ll look in the mirror and be no different than Vlad, not because you didn’t try your hardest but because there was never any biological choice, what kind of choice can a species of two even make)

—would just scare them. It’s easier, keeping them in the dark, even if it means they’re trying to hunt you down and take you apart molecule by molecule any time you’ve got white hair.

But it’s not just flying and invisibility and energy you can summon with a thought—

(ray or bolt or fire, you don’t know what to call your power, you never really did pay attention when your parents got going even before you had to worry about all their blinking tech going nuts around you, but sometimes your green light is cool and wispy and other times it's hot and sizzling, sometimes you know which one will bloom between your fingers and sometimes it’s a surprise, sometimes it’s almost like your body knows what to do in a fight better than you, sometimes it’s easier to stop thinking and just let it happen, to just be the freak that you are, to burn white-hot and damn the consequences)

—you have to worry about. You’re stronger every day, stranger everyday too. You feel a little bit more at ease as a ghost as time goes on. It stops being a strain and starts being an ease, even a comfort, and some days you dread the thought of going to school because a ghost might not attack and you’ll be stuck as a human all day. 

That kind of thinking should worry you, probably. 

But so what? You could sneak into your parents’ lab in the middle of the night and try more tests, more experiments, but really, what would that do? You’re a freak, plain and simple. You and Vlad poked your noses in places you shouldn’t have and paid the price, and that’s that. 

Eventually you get sick of worrying and just let it be. You’re a freak who can walk through walls, disappear, and fly. You’re the freak protecting a town full of people who pretty much hate you. Really, what can you do? The same old same old, that’s what. Try and get a little more sleep outside the classroom, maybe. As for the townsfolk? Well, you can’t always avoid the property damages, but you can at least save a few lives along the way.

People even start to say thank you, even if it’s from a distance, even if they think you're some crazed vigilante ghost, and doesn’t that make this whole superhero thing worth it?

But then of course something has to come along and ruin even that much, ruin this budding chance at gratitude, at finally feeling like a real life superhero. And it isn’t a ghost this time. It’s a human. You hadn't ever considered humans to be dangerous the way a ghost can be.

Freakshow happens, and all that hard work is undone in just a few short days. Days you can’t remember with any clarity, just blurs of color and noise, your hands full of stolen money and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t let go, you couldn’t stop. Attacking the cops when they pursued, terrorizing any humans that got too close, puppeted by that grinning, painted maniac who treated you and the other ghosts like animals, like slaves—

(minions, he’d called you all, and he didn’t even bother to learn your name before he sunk his fingers into your brain, and you never did find out who any of those other ghosts were, what their names were or who they had been before that crystal ball had pulled them under, and they were gone before there was a chance to even ask)

—and tanked Invis-o-Bill’s reputation to a whole new low. Trashing nearly every car the Amity Park Police Department has and robbing the city blind at the behest of a psychotic ringmaster would have done that even if you’d been considered the hero you try so hard to be. Oh well. At least nobody was hurt in all that, unless you bothered counting Mr. Lancer getting left in the custodial closet for a weekend. You mostly don’t feel guilty about that. Mostly.

Sam says you ought to count yourself too, but you try not to think about any of what happened—

(all that time spent exhausted and hungry, he never let you rest, not once, because ghosts don’t need sleep, ghosts don’t get tired, ghosts don’t need friends, but it’s over, it’s all over now, you don’t have to hear yourself laugh as the little humans scream below, you’ll never have to watch Sam fall and wonder if your body will listen to you in time, you’re yourself again, you’re in control again, everything’s alright, you’re alright, you’re safe, you’re home, you’re yourself again)

—and try to pass yourself off as fine afterwards instead, just confused, just tired, just sorry for everything that’s happened.

For weeks after the police shoved Freakshow into the back of a car, your dreams are red. Not with blood, thank god for that. No, it’s like a filter. A stain. Strawberry candy red, saturated fire engine red, the color Sam said your eyes were when you were under his control. It doesn’t matter if you’re having nightmares—

(more common than you’d like, but you’ve never been one to shout after a bad dream and you don’t intend to start now)

—or regular old brain dump dreams. It doesn’t matter if you’re dreaming of broken bones and monsters or forgetting to study for a test; it’s all filtered through that darkroom shade of red.

What does it mean? You don’t know. You don’t bring it up to Sam or Tucker. They’d just worry, and they worry about you enough as it is. Besides, you’re fine. The Circus Gothica billboard is up for two weeks after Freakshow’s arrest, and it doesn’t do anything to you, not like before. You don’t lose time, you don’t say anything creepy. Your eyes stay blue or green, depending on whether or not there’s a ghost in need of wrangling nearby.

It’s just a weird, harmless after effect, that’s your best conclusion. Then you do your best to stop thinking about it. Who you were under Freakshow’s control wasn’t you. It wasn’t. You tell yourself that until you almost believe it. Eventually, you dreams return to their factory settings. Huzzah.

Meanwhile everywhere you go, people badmouth Invis-o-Bill like they’re getting paid to do it. They call him—

(you)

—thief and monster and dangerous, they call him—

(you)

—a menace and a bad influence on the children. A liar. Traitor. Conspiring with other ghosts to earn the trust of humans to terrorize Amity Park all the better. Kids at school spread awful stories about Invis-o-Bill, say he—

(you)

—was probably the ghost of a troubled teen who got in too deep with bad people and paid the price, and now he—

(you)

—spends his afterlife seeking revenge on humans and ghosts alike. They say a lot of bad things about you, for a while. You try not to pay much attention. You’re getting pretty good at that.

After Freakshow, there’s a lull. That doesn’t mean ghosts don’t stop attacking or causing havoc, it just means that, for a handful of weeks, it’s just the little ones. Hungry animals and disoriented blobs and the Box Ghost. Easy stuff. You actually have time to unwind, time to let the tension bleed from your bones, time to catch up on all your late homework and even squeak your grades up to passable. It’s nice. You’d almost call it relaxing.

Of course, the lulls never last. You know this, you’ve learned this, they made you understand this from your very first—

(disastrous, embarrassing)

—fight with the Lunch Lady. You have one fight with Sam the wrong ghost overhears, and everything that’s happened is wished away. You are wished away. For a couple of days, you never walked into your parents’ ghost portal. You were never torn apart and melted back together by heat and light and pain. You were never Phantom at all. Worse still, you have no memory of your erased past, not so much as the slightest disquiet to niggle in the back of your brain when Sam walks up to your locker and starts going on about imaginary monsters like they're real. 

Sam Manson—

(a stranger, a total stranger, just a bottle-black pretty girl you stare at because you’re fourteen and desperate for a connection you’ve never had and don’t understand, she’s nobody else, she’s nothing else to you but a chance at your first kiss and later you will hate yourself for thinking of her like that, not as a girl because of course she is that, but as a prize you might earn, and who cared if she was crazy because she just might have kissed you for some unfathomable reason, and Sam is so much more than the sum of her body, Sam is worth so much more than that, Sam is worth so much)

—is the vehement Goth girl who's in half your classes and is [unfinished]

=

In those stumbling, halting days of dismissal followed by doubt followed by a desperate curiosity to believe that there might be more to life than growing up and settling for less, that movies haven’t lied and there really is something beyond the disappointment growing up has been for you so far. Sam’s purple mouth is a thin, grim line of—

(worry, guilt, fear, shame, envy, panic, uncertainty)

—complicated emotions you can’t parse as you zip up the jumpsuit your parents got you for your birthday. You’ve never worn it before, the fabric stiff and reluctant to bend at your joints. You don’t know how they’re comfortable wearing theirs all the time [unfinished]

=

Sometimes after a fight wears you out, leaves you bruised and smeared with shining green, you don’t fight the transformation. Not because you can’t, but because it feels good to have that fake pulse vanish, to hear real blood pounding in your ears. The weight of you shifts too, and even though you’re so much weaker when you’re human, it’s easier to sink your fingers into the dirt, to haul your meat out of the mess your ghost left behind, easier to duck out of sight before the news vans and curious bystanders get too close. Nobody ever sees you. Nobody ever puts your bruises and Band-Aids and the trashed Dunkin’ Donuts together. It helps that nobody’s ever heard of a half-ghost, that Vlad was cunning enough to hide his powers. Everybody’s heard of the Wisconsin Ghost, but Wisconsin is a big damn state and unlike you, Vlad and Plasmius hardly look like the same man.

Everybody at school just thinks you’re the football team’s personal punching bag, which is definitely true. Thing is, after spending a couple months fighting ghosts, a gut-punch from a junior is kind of a joke. You’re getting ganged up by a bunch of guys in letter jackets behind the auto shop and you have to mime pain to get them to leave you alone. 

Is this real life? Yup, and it’s hilarious.

Time passes, as it does. You get stronger, faster, heavier. You hone your powers. You stop losing control, mostly. New ghosts terrorize the streets. Old ghosts do too, they’re just smarter about it. They all know who you are by now. Hell, a whole other plane of reality knows your name by this point, knows who Danny Fenton really is. Funny though, none of them ever spill the beans to any humans. What better way to take down the one person standing in their way of world domination or an army of hypnotized teens or whatever they’re trying to score than to oust his secret identity?

You don’t ask. Maybe they haven’t caught on that humans have no idea you’re trying to keep a secret. Maybe there’s some kind of code among ghosts; don’t spill a guy’s weakness, even if you hate his ectoplasm. Maybe especially if you hate his ectoplasm?

You’ve had a couple more run-ins with Vlad too. Each time he changes, transforms, you breath hitches, because you can almost see it. Whatever makes up the both of you, piecing the mystery together through the differences—

(light and dark and it’s cliché as anything, it’s so transparently Star Wars, but maybe there’s something to clichés, because you might be the one wearing mostly black but he’s the one with a sucking core, a void, something more horrific for its absence, like he used to be full of stark white light too but it’s all been burned up and whatever’s left is just playing through the motions, pretending at being something else, who knows what it means but you know that it scares the hell out of you)

—between you and him. He goes on and on about how you’re more like him every day, but he’s wrong. He’s so wrong. You’ll never be like him, and it isn’t just a matter of morals.

What you are, down to the complex disaster of your DNA, is different than what makes up Vlad, and you don’t need to slide a piece of him under a microscope to see that. You thought differently once, but now you know better. A glance is all you need. What you are and what he is, has become—

(powerful yes, but ugly and hating and cruel, the rings that flash at his waist are just shadows reflecting light, trying to hide a black mouth brimming with hungry teeth)

—well, you might as well be different species.

Vlad’s crazy and Vlad’s a jerk, but he is right about one thing. There’s so much about the Ghost Zone you don’t understand, and it’s this ignorance that just might get you—

(or somebody else, and isn’t that an old favorite in the nightmares)

—killed. You don’t know if it was fate or a simple coincidence that your parents were working on the Ecto-Skeleton when Pariah Dark woke up. You’re fourteen years old and you can shoot lasers out of your fingers; you don’t have the wherewithal for philosophical theology. You’re just glad they got it functioning in time to stop the King of All Ghosts from overrunning the city, even if the stupid thing nearly kills you.

You don’t fret much about the Ecto-Skeleton vanishing after you pass out. You do, however, remember Pariah’s nasty grin—

(having that much power, it’s a burden, isn’t it child)

—when you stumbled under the strain. You don’t know if he meant what the suit enabled you to do or if he meant the power in your own two hands. Either way, you remember those words, like they’re branded onto your brain, and you don’t have a choice but to hear it over and over every time you try to sleep. They rang in your head like bells in the days after you’d pushed him back into that sarcophagus, stuck in bed aching and weaker than you’ve ever felt in your life.

Because it is a burden. Everybody hates and fears you, but at the same time they happily expect you to protect them from hordes of skeletal ghosts. Sometimes you panic, so aware of how young you are, of how little comic books and video games have prepared you for a life like this, hiding bruises and spinning bold-face lies to everybody from your parents to the U.S. government. Teenagers are supposed to rebel, sure, but if you ever come clean you’d be thrown in a cell and they’d never, ever let you go. Not just because you’re a criminal—

(and you are, thanks to Freakshow and thanks to dozens of ghosts, and you’ve left an imprint of your tiny, impossibly heavy body all over the city, and you’ve done your best to protect everybody but you leave rubble and shrapnel wherever you go, ambulance sirens wail through the streets every day, and everybody’s just as scared as you are, just as fascinated as you are, and yet so many students and teachers have left Casper High, so many faces you used to see everyday in the hallways have vanished, so many business and restaurants and homes sit empty, gathering dust and graffiti, and it’s your fault, if you hadn’t walked into the Ghost Portal none of this would be happening, none of this would ever have happened at all, and you’re too much of a coward to show your face, to tell anyone but your best friends what kind of a monster you really are)

—but because you can phase through solid objects, you’re considered a monster with less rights than a dog.

Sometimes you wish Sam wasn’t a budding ghost-rights activist. You’d probably have an easier time studying if she didn’t rattle off all these statistics and news articles, stories of government agents in white suits quarantining whole city blocks to purge the ghosts inhabiting them, of ghost attacks stopping all at once in little towns after strange men with guns and knives and felonies like grave robbing and murder slunk through in the night. Ghosts are dangerous, there’s no questioning that. But so are bears. So are people. Just because something is dangerous doesn’t mean it should be destroyed.

Maybe that’s why the ghosts have never spilled your secret. You’ve never tried to kill them. You just want them to leave Amity Park alone. Who knows for sure though? You don’t have the guts to risk asking any of them.

Still, this whole mess is worth it. It is. You can fly, for god’s sake. If you’re careful you could juggle minivans, mimic all your favorite action movies and outdo even the craziest Hollywood stunts. What kid hasn’t dreamed of doing any of that? But you’re not being selfish. You’re not. It’s like Dad says; you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. Progress is a disaster when you’re living it, when it isn’t past tense, when it isn’t all tidied up in a few short paragraphs in a high school history book. What’s happening now is worth it, for the future.

If you ever do tell Mom and Dad—

(you’re not afraid of what they’ll think, you’ve never worried about that, not really, they’re your parents before they’re scientists, and any experiment or test would be to ensure your safety and your health, because that’s what parents do, that’s what good people do, and they’re the best people you’ve ever known)

—you know they’d be able to break down your powers into reams of clinical data in no time. They’d figure out how you survived the accident, how your abilities generate and develop in power, maybe even pinpoint the how of your strange, mutable weight. They’d tell you what that light is, when you change, that light that reminds you so strongly of the stars. After all, just because they’re too oblivious to realize their son is the infamous Ghost Kid doesn’t mean they don’t know what they’re doing. They aren’t known as the leading scientists, engineers and weapon smiths in the paranatural fields for nothing. Mom’s practically got more letters after her name than there are in the alphabet, and while Dad may only have a fraction of that he thinks like nobody else out there. Most Fenton tech are his designs, wild and absurd and covered with stickers of his beaming face, and Mom’s the one who works out the bugs with fond exasperation.

Still, they have to get their knowledge from somewhere, and you’ve seen what they do down in the lab to the formless, red-eyed ghosts, the ones too weak to do much more than snarl wetly. Sometimes they snare something bigger and stronger, something fond of curling prickly tendrils around the nearest human and squeezing. More often than not it’s Dad that’s the unlucky one, always so eager to parse the secrets hidden in each fanged little beastie they’ve fished out of the Ghost Zone. He’s got nearly as many as bruises as you do, some weeks, but he’s never happier than when he’s holding a bag of frozen peas to his head.

After a good wrestle with something that wailed and whistled like a boiling kettle, Dad’ll limp up to the kitchen and settle heavily into a chair, grinning and running his mouth nonstop, talking about how much progress they’ve made today—

(wait ‘til the boys over at the GIW hear about that one, he’ll say with a bray of laughter, makes the piddly little Class Threes look darn near cuddly, didn’t it Mads, why Danny you should’ve seen the fangs on this fella, nearly bit through the exam table in one bite, y’oughta come down to the lab more often, Danny, seeing these spooks up close and personal’d be a great way to help you get over that silly fear of ‘em, and there you are, smiling meekly and holding up your hands and making up any excuse you can think of off the top of your head to keep you out of the lab when your parents have all their equipment up and humming, just in case, aw Dad I dunno, I’ve got this essay due, not today Dad I’ve got like six pages of algebra I haven’t even started yet, sorry Dad I’m sleeping over at Tucker’s tonight and his mom insisted I come early for dinner)

—and every time, Mom will smile indulgently, like she’s falling in love with Dad all over again. She’ll push him back into the seat and tell him to quit fidgeting so she can clean up the nasty cut behind his ear, and every time you smile behind your hand and think, how could Vlad ever hope to break your parents up? They only thing they might love more than each other would be you and Jazz and ghosts, and you’re all so much of their lives they can’t help but love you all completely. How they love each other and their kids and the ghosts they’ve studied all their lives, well, that’s like saying they love breathing. They love each other because without each other, they wouldn’t be themselves. It’s sappy as hell and like any kid you hate seeing your parents get all lovey-dovey, but you can’t help that secret smile as you walk out of the kitchen to give them a little privacy.

Seeing Mom and Dad so hard at work, so happy at work, is why you don’t tell them. They think you’re slacking off, they think you’re getting bullied, and they’re worried about you sure, but better they think their son’s lazy than a freak. If they knew what you did, what you could do, if they knew you were the one facing up against ghosts that made the ones they picked apart in their lab look like kittens, if they knew you’d heard all the awful things they want to do to Phantom once they finally nab him—

(you know they wouldn’t say it if they knew you and him were one and the same, you know you know you know, but sometimes you can’t help but be hurt anyway, to see all that fierce dedication focused on seeing whether or not Danny Phantom has bones, and if he does, how much pressure could they withstand before breaking)

—they wouldn’t know what to do or say or think. They’d be so eaten up with guilt, why hadn’t they known, why hadn’t they realized, what if they’d finally gotten a lucky shot in, what if one of all those cruel ghosts had gotten a luck shot in, what if what if what if—

(and you’ve pictured it a hundred times, it’s so easy to imagine the looks on their faces, the horror the shame the fear, and you know they’d love you all the same, you know this like you know the distance between the Sun and every planet, even little Pluto they just declared wasn’t a planet at all, but you’re young and selfish and definitely some kind of stupid because sometimes you can’t help but feel they’d shun you for the freak you are, turn you over to the GIW because they couldn’t bear to look on the thing their son’s become, and you know that couldn’t ever ever ever happen but still, it’s so easy to imagine)

—and you couldn’t do that to them. You won’t do that to them, no matter how many times Sam or Tucker try to convince you otherwise. How it is now, secrets and lies and detention slips and broken curfews, can’t last forever. You know that. But until then, it’ll have to do, and you’ll have to parse all your growing weirdness without all of Mom and Dad��s knowledge or experience, fingers crossed that their ticking and glowing machines won’t reveal your secret before you’re ready to do it yourself.

=

But you’re turning out stranger in ways you can’t even recognize, and for all that Sam and Tucker are by your side to help you as you change and burn brighter and hotter and faster and heavier, they don’t see it either. Jazz is the one who points it out, one day not long after the Spectra… thing, all out of the blue. She’s been noticing lots of things lately, and acting so strange, like she might have pieced it together. But she can’t have, of course not, you’re so careful, you are always so careful. Jazz is just clever, Jazz got all the brains and you got the leftovers. Everybody knows that. Even you know that.

She comes into the kitchen one morning with a curious little spin to her step, craning her head around and around like she’s running late for school and can’t find her keys, but it’s a Saturday. You’re there by the fridge, cobbling together something that might resemble an edible breakfast, moving slow because you’ve got a bruise all down your right side that makes it hurt to do more than breathe shallowly or raise your arm more than a couple inches. You sniff the milk and instantly regret this decision, and while you’re pouring the lumpy mess down the sink Jazz asks if the kitchen’s always been on the second floor.

You stare at her, too tired and baffled to give her the proper what the hell a question like that deserves, but she drags you over to the kitchen door and pushes it open, and since when has there been a door to the kitchen and oh my god the kitchen is on the second floor.

She gapes at you and you gape right back, and the rest of that morning is spent going over every inch of the house and seeing what else has changed compared to your shared memories.

Everything has, in some way or another. Doorknobs have shifted, cupboards have lowered, doors moved from one part of a room to another. Even chairs have changed their heights. There’s a whole new door neither of you can remember ever existing before connecting the upstairs bathroom directly to your room. Thinking back—

(staggering through your open window, mouth thick with the hot penny burn of ectoplasm and blood, your right hand pressed against the throb all down your side, and aren’t you grateful for your weight, your sturdiness, because before you finally peeled the faceguard off of Skulker’s exoskeleton and sucked that little jerk into a Thermos he got a good shot in with a rocket that hit you hard right in the ribs, and if you’d been normal there would have just been a dark wet hole where your torso used to be but lucky you, you’re every inch the creepy little freak Spectra called you, so you get to limp home and clean up as best you can on your own since it’s four in the morning and no way are you gonna wake Sam or Tucker up again, and you have to be quiet, you have to be so quiet, biting down pain, you can’t make a sound or Jazz might hear, grabbing the first-aid kid from your underwear drawer and slipping into the bathroom, and for once the hinges didn’t squeak, thank god, you think, thank god)

—you hadn’t even noticed last night or even this morning that a door had sprung up where there’d just been NASA and Nat Geo posters before. And your windows have moved, and your bed has moved, and you and Jazz just stare and stare. Why had neither of you noticed any of this until now? Why haven’t your parents? How long has this been going on? 

What could cause something like this?

It takes half an hour to convince your mom that something’s off about the house, and even longer to get your dad to grasp what you both are trying to say. Their eyes just keep glazing over the differences, even something as huge as the kitchen being on the wrong floor. Once they finally do see though, it’s a whole other story. After the initial shock, they drop all their experiments and spend the next week measuring and scanning every inch of the house.

Their conclusion, a week and some change later? The Ghost Portal leaks. 

Even with the huge steel door locked up tight, it seems there’s enough residual energy slipping through to warp, literally warp, the house. Somehow. The way your mom’s lips thin as she says all this means she’s not satisfied with this conclusion, but she puts on a wide smile when Jazz asks if you’re all in any danger. A smart question, one you think you might’ve asked yourself. Y’know, if you still needed to worry about something like exposure. Your dad just laughs big and loud and says not to worry about it, says if there were going to be any creepy side effects they would have manifested by now. Everything’s fine, they assure you both, but you look at the crease between your mom’s eyebrows and you wonder.

Later, when they’re out taking readings from the ectoplasm-damp wreck you and the Lunch Lady made of a McDonald’s and Jazz is studying at the library, you creep down to the lab and pull up all their documentation of the house. Most of it is dry as dirt; neatly typed spreadsheets and tidy, color-coded graphs (clearly your mom’s handiwork), but there’s also nearly a gigabyte’s worth of photos. Clicking through them, you can see Dad’s sloppy angles and the occasional square pinkie slipping into the frame. Most of the first hundred photos have been untouched, but the two hundreds have been filtered all to hell, like Mom and Dad went through the house a second time, trying to find something the human eye can’t see. Just shy of 300, the photos turn a dusty black and white, splattered in places with an all-too-familiar starkly glowing green.

No. Not splattered. A few spins of the scroll wheel zooms in on a crooked picture of the kitchen. There’s green all over everything; the fridge, the microwave, the drawers and cupboards, cluttered thickly at the kitchen table. These aren’t splatters. They’re handprints, slapped in layers and layers over themselves, like somebody dipped their hands in neon paint and went to town.

Every photo taken in that black and white filter shows the same thing. Handprints on doorknobs and railings, footprints on tile and carpet, green smeared and stamped everywhere, tracking the movements of something—

(somebody)

—for what must be as long as the Portal’s been active.

Why didn’t Mom and Dad say anything about this? Why haven’t you sensed it? There’s a ghost, an entity, some thing lurking around your house like it has every right to be there! Green gathered on the couch, on every table and sink, even the upstairs shower and your room and—

(the pictures of jazz’s room are nearly clean, the pictures of Mom and Dad’s room are spotless, but your room is practically bathed in green from floor to ceiling, your bed and desk nearly washed out by a poisonous haze, and no wonder Mom had looked so worried and no wonder Dad had laughed so loud, they know something’s wrong with you, they’ve always known you were messed up thanks to the accident but now here’s irrefutable proof, how can you lie your way out of photographic evidence, how can they look at you and not see you for the freak you are)

—oh.

You close the files, power down the computer, and walk quietly out of the lab. That’s… that’s all you can really do. Sooner or later your parents will knock gently on your door and ask you to come downstairs. Just a few tests, they’ll say. It’s for your own good, they’ll say. We’re worried about you, they’ll say.

But they’ll find out. They’ll find out what you are, and it’ll go one of two ways. They’ll either accept you as the freak you are, or hate you for the freak you are. Either way, there will be no more hiding. It’s… it’s almost a relief, to know the other shoe is finally going to drop.

Except it never does.

You wait, quietly, patiently, expectantly. They don’t treat you any different. They never say a word. When they call you down to the lab, it’s just to show off the latest in Fenton ghost hunting technology. Why? Why don’t they ask? Why don’t they administer tests, if not on you than on the house and the Portal? Why does nothing change?

=

They’re wrong on nearly every count, sure, but you’ve got hurts aplenty to hide. Sam and Tucker have seen the lightning splashed across your skin dozens of times by now, and when they hear the A-listers spreading this bad joke of a ghost story and see you laugh, they laugh too. There wasn’t much chance of hiding it for long from them, after all, when it’s so much easier to patch up the nastier cuts when you’re bleeding sluggish ectoplasm instead of blood pumped by a heart full of adrenaline.

The first time Sam had insisted on unzipping your suit to get a good look at the slash on one shoulder, Tucker cracking a half-hearted attempt at a dirty joke with hands shaking so bad the first aid kit rattled like a live thing, they’d both stopped cold. For ten long seconds, they just stared, pinning you down with matching expressions of horror. It was the longest ten seconds of your life. You’d been scared before, of being found out for the freak you are, of being overwhelmed by powerful ghosts, but this, you’re pretty sure, was the first time you were ever terrified.

But then Sam hugged you, and Tucker had smiled and squeezed your good shoulder, and that had been enough. There wasn’t anything to worry about after all.

They understand now why you gasp when your ghost sense goes off—

(shock like plunging feet first into a frozen lake, shock like drowning with a chest full of dead air, shock like electricity buzzing hot and cold and terrible through your nerves, leaving you breathless and tingling, your fists clenched so tight your knuckles burn white, teeth clenched and grinding as you dart for the nearest lonely corner to gather up your heaviness and summon the starlight in your heart)

—and they know why it took you so long to realize you don’t have a heartbeat when you’re a ghost. The first few times you changed, you’d felt it, felt it like a rush of blood flow to a sleeping limb, but it took weeks to put it together. To realize the stinging, cool pulse radiating from your hand to your chest wasn’t your heart but something else altogether. All that star-bright scar tissue pulses. Involuntary, but without any reaction to how much energy you exert. A constant, steady [unfinished]

=

Breathing is optional too, when you’re a ghost. You’d found that one out the hard way, choking on mud in that stupid duck pond and tangled in one of Skulker’s nets.

[madasthesea]

Trope: Age Regression

The first Tony said to him when the smoke cleared was:

“My father won’t pay the ransom.”

His voice was about three octaves too high and his head a foot and a half too low.

Peter’s heart was so loud in his ears he could barely hear.

“What?” he rasped.

Tony’s dark eyes darted around the room, his chest visibly rising and falling with each frantic breath. When he spoke, his voice trembled, but he straightened his shoulders and jutted out his chin like he wasn’t afraid at all.

“My father won’t pay you to get me back. He told me.”

Suddenly Peter’s heart was pounding for a whole different reason.

“He told you?” Peter hissed. Tony flinched and Peter took a step back, taking a deep breath.

He looked around him, at the time travel device he and Tony had been working on. Peter wasn’t sure how it had gone so abysmally wrong. But the evidence was standing in front of him, fidgeting and trying not to cry.

“I didn’t kidnap you,” he said after a long moment.

Tony looked dubious at best.

“I swear I didn’t,” Peter insisted. “I was doing an experiment and it went... wrong.”

Despite himself, Tony glanced back at the device, looking curious. He hesitated, glancing back at Peter, then asked, “What kind of experiment?”

“A complicated one,” Peter hedged, crossing the room to examine the device. Half of it was still smoking slightly, the complicated wiring burned and shriveled. Peter sighed.

“Well, clearly you screwed it up,” little Tony said, crossing his arms over his thin chest with a huff. Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Clearly,” he said, unimpressed. Tony’s eyes darted away again, nervous color on his cheeks. When Peter shifted, Tony automatically flinched away, his eyes flashing to the door like he was considering running.

Peter looked at Tony a little closer. He looked exactly like he did in the pictures Peter had seen, him with his circuit board, his computer, the things he’d built at such impressively young ages. But even without those pictures, Peter would have known instantly who was standing in front of him: His eyes were exactly the same—dark, intelligent, sizing everyone and everything up within seconds.

“How old are you?” Peter asked.

Tony hesitated. “Eight,” he finally said.

Peter took a deep breath, letting his cheeks puff up as he blew it out.

“Um, FRIDAY, let Pepper know. And Bruce.”

“Of course, Peter,” FRIDAY answered, and Tony jumped, looking up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

“That’s FRIDAY,” Peter said, then bit his lip. Could he tell eight-year-old Tony about the AI he would create in thirty-five years, or would that affect the timeline of Tony’s life? Was the Tony standing in front of him a fifty-three year old turned eight? Or had Peter pulled the eight-year-old Tony out of his time and sent the adult Tony back to 1978?

He changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”

Tony shook his head, looking wary, but then his stomach audibly growled. Peter snorted.

“Come on. I make some mean grilled cheese.”

“How do we fix it?” Pepper whispered, glancing back at the child with Tony’s eyes, kicking his feet as he sat at the kitchen island eating a grilled cheese sandwich.

“I... I have a few ideas, but I don’t know for sure,” Peter hissed back, his voice high. Pepper had taken the news rather well—better than Peter, at least, who was panicking more and more with each question.

Bruce rubbed his forehead.

“I’ll take a look at the time-travel device,” Peter stammered. “See if I can reverse the polarity. That might do the trick. Maybe.” He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “This is all my fault.”

Pepper laughed a little and rubbed his back. “Sweetie, I’ve known Tony way too long to believe he wasn’t at least eighty percent responsible for this little snafu. We have three geniuses living in this building and another four on speed dial. We’ll figure it out.”

Peter gave her a small smile, then glanced back toward Tony, who had finished his sandwich and was now watching them, the hesitance in his expression slightly lessened. He smiled at Tony and got a twitchy little grin in return.

 Tony was pouting as he rubbed his arm where Bruce had drawn some blood. Peter steered him out of the medbay with a hand on his narrow shoulder, having overseen the ‘torture’ (as Tony called it, his little voice cracking a little bit when he’d seen Bruce coming toward him with a needle) since Pepper was busy taking care of Morgan and alerting the other residents of the tower about what had happened.

Peter looked down at Tony and rolled his eyes. Tony had apparently always been a drama queen. He led the kid up to the common floor, not quite sure what to do while Bruce was running a few tests, hoping to establish just which Tony they had with them.

A few of the team were there, talking quietly on the couches. Natasha was standing a few feet away, on the phone with Scott, judging by the voice coming from the other end. Tony fell a few steps back, taking in the new space. Peter let him, knowing that the kid was still skittish, unsure if he could actually trust these people.

“Steve?”

Everyone whirled to see Tony, his eyes wide with shock. Peter's heart sank. He turned back to watch as Steve saw who had addressed him, his face falling just a little bit as he looked at the boy. He stood from the couch, coming closer.

“I-I mean, Captain Rogers, sir,” Tony stammered, his hands twisting behind his back.

Steve put on his best Captain America smile.

“You must be Tony,” Steve said, crouching down and offering a hand to shake. Tony took it, his own hand dwarfed by comparison.

“How…” Tony said, looking around. There were tears in his eyes. “My… my dad will be so happy to see you, sir.”

Steve’s smile turned a little pained. “And I would love to see your dad again. But let’s get you taken care of first, ok?”

Tony nodded, still staring at Steve like he was the greatest thing he’d ever seen.

“I’ve gotten the things you listed, Peter,” Bruce said, coming into the room, and Tony’s attention quickly changed over to him. He was a little tightly-wound like that, Peter realized—anything that changed, any new noise or sight immediately attracted his attention and it wasn’t until Tony decided that it was safe that he tuned it out. “We can work on fixing the device tonight.”

“I can help,” Tony said, his young voice confident and eager.

Peter and Bruce shared a glance. Tony seemed to interpret this as doubt, because he huffed and frowned, stopping just shy of sticking his bottom lip out.

“I can. I’m smart. Probably smarter than you.”

Behind Tony, Pepper and Rhodey both bit their lip to keep from laughing.

“We know, Tony, that’s not what we’re worried about,” Bruce quickly soothed. In reality, it was an insanely complicated piece of technology, and while Tony was a genius, he was still eight years old. And any small mistake could make the difference between bringing their Tony back and not. “But having you around the device might set it off, due to the rift in space-time centered around you. You’re an anomaly.”

Peter also had to bite back a smile. That was a good bit of off-the-cuff bluffing.

Tony looked slightly pacified, but his pout was still in place.

“In fact,” Peter said. “I’m not sure I should help either.” He made eye contact with Bruce, telling him to just roll with it. “Since I was in the room when it happened, I might be exposed too. Bruce, maybe Rhodes and Scott can help you and Tony and I will steer clear, so nothing goes wrong.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Bruce agreed.  

 “A planetarium?” Tony asked skeptically, looking up at the glass-plated building in front of them.

“Heck yeah!” Peter cheered, holding onto Tony’s hand—to great protestation—as pedestrians pushed passed them. He’d needed something to get Tony out of the tower while Bruce and Rhodey worked, because he kept trying to sneak down to the lab. Lucky for all of them, his babysitter also happened to be Spider-Man and was able to catch him each time. “Think about how much new stuff we’ve learned since 1978, kid.”

Curiosity lit up Tony’s eyes. “Do people live in space now?”

“Come find out,” Peter said, pulling him toward the entrance.

Despite Tony’s original protests, Tony was instantly captivated by everything in the planetarium. He and Peter jumped on the Geiger counter simulator to mimic an earthquake, and they played the little video game to try to land their rockets on the moon. Peter took a picture of Tony walking on the faux-Mars surface and sent it to Pepper to let her know they were ok.

Tony spent nearly 15 full minutes sticking his hands in the cloud synthesizer, letting the water vapor swirl around his hands as he trailed them along, a look of wonder and peace on his face. Peter watched him, wondering how Tony would react if Peter told him that when he was older, he would invent a suit that let him fly amongst the clouds, through the atmosphere and out past the stars.  

Peter hesitated when they got to the stairs leading up to the fourth floor—the one they’d added after the Invasion of New York in 2012. It was all about the discovery of extraterrestrial life and interplanetary travel. And, as the only person on Earth to have travelled through a wormhole and lived to tell the tale, Tony Stark was an important part in that era of science. Would knowing somehow mess up Tony’s life and by extension all the people he didn’t save?

Tony didn’t have any such apprehensions though. He bounded up the stairs before Peter had decided if they were going or not, and Peter was forced to follow, nearly running into Tony where he stood stock still at the top of the stairs.

Tony’s wide eyes looked around at the exhibit signs that read ”The Confirmation of Extraterrestrial Life” and “The Future of Alien-Human Contact” in bold letters.

“Aliens are real?” he asked, nearly breathless. Peter couldn’t tell if all the pictures and videos were interesting or scary to him, but he crouched down anyway so he could talk to Tony without having to speak over the crowd.

“Tony—” Peter started, only to be interrupted by the sound of jeering, pre-pubescent laughter. He turned to see a group of four boys, around 12 or 13, all with mocking expressions. They were looking at Tony.

“Aliens are real?” One mimicked in an exaggeratedly high voice.

“Were you born yesterday?” Another asked, laughing and shoving the shoulder of his friend, egging him on.

“See any family resemblance?” The first one spoke again, his voice breaking slightly as he snorted, gesturing toward a nearby picture of a Chitauri.

Tony took a step back as if in shock. His little shoulders stiffened and his eyes widened before his face set in a poorly constructed mask of indifference. He didn’t say anything, which was so different from the Tony he knew now, who made it his goal to be brasher and louder and snarkier when he was hurt.

Peter stood and even though he was shorter than most his age, he towered over these little pre-teens. He put a hand on Tony’s bony shoulder, holding him close to his side.

“Hey,” he snarled.

All four faces fell in sync, as if just seeing Peter for the first time.

“Get lost,” he snapped at them, glowering, and all four hightailed it down the stairs.

Tony’s mouth was pursed in a thin line, his eyes determinedly dry.

“Tony,” Peter said, crouching down again in front of Tony.

“I want to go,” Tony said imperiously, but his voice was too high to sound natural.

“Hey, no, we don’t have to go. We want to learn about aliens, remember.”

Tony turned his head away but Peter put a hand under his chin and guided it back.

“Don’t worry about them, ok?” Peter told Tony. “You’re smarter than all four of them put together.”

Tony looked a little surprised, then offered a fleeting smile.

“Do you want to stay?” Tony bit his lip, but nodded. When Peter started walking again, Tony stuck just a little closer to him than usual.

Peter hurried a little faster than he had on the previous floors and managed to keep Tony from reading the various quotes and informational signs. He therefore missed his own name be referenced a couple times. They played one last game, stopped off at the cloud simulator again, then stepped out into the bright sunshine, squinting.

They crossed the plaza, teeming with people and Tony looked around in curiosity.

Peter noticed Tony repeatedly glancing at a street vendor selling ice cream and cotton candy.

“Do you want some?” Peter asked. Tony immediately looked straight ahead, his ears red.

“No, sir, I’m sorry.” Peter made a face at being called sir by Tony.

“Well, too bad,” Peter said, and Tony’s shoulders drooped despite Peter’s light tone. “Because I want some, which means you have to help me eat it whether you want any or not.”

Tony perked up, looking up at Peter in surprise, a hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

It made Peter think of something Tony used to say—when he was his actual age, not eight. Anytime Peter protested to Tony buying him something, Tony would scoff and say, “Are you really going to deny me the chance to see your face light up? That’s mean, Parker.”

Peter grinned, happy to turn the tables, just for a little bit.

“Come on,” Peter urged. Tony happily trotted alongside Peter as they went and bought some blue cotton candy. They sat on the edge of the fountain, tearing off pieces with sticky hands. Peter laughed at the face Tony made with his first bite, his eyes bright with delight as the treat dissolved in his mouth.

They finished their cotton candy, Tony swinging his feet as they dangled a few inches above the ground. Peter washed his sugar coated fingers off in the fountain, and Tony followed suit.

“All right, buddy, we better head on back.”

By the time they’d gotten off the subway, Tony’s sugar high had worn off and he started lagging behind as they walked the last handful of blocks. There was a moment of terror where Peter glanced over his shoulder and couldn’t see Tony. He stopped dead, ignoring the disgruntled looks people threw at him. After a second, where Peter’s heart pounded against his ribs, Tony’s small figure became visible among the crowd. Exhaling heavily, Peter quickly grabbed Tony’s arm and tugged him up against the building.

“You scared me,” he admonished gently.

Tony blinked up at him, a befuddled mixture of confusion and exhaustion. “Sorry.”

Peter just shook his head and crouched down next to him. “Hop on.”

Tony stared at him.

“Come on, piggy back ride.”

Hesitantly, Tony clambered onto Peter’s back, letting out a small laugh as Peter quickly stood, hooking his hands under Tony’s legs.

Tony was a barely noticeable weight to Peter as he started walking again, the tower looming ahead of them. He was warm though, reassuring Peter that he hadn’t actually lost young Tony Stark in the middle of New York.

“What do you want for dinner, buddy?” Peter asked.

“I get to pick?” Tony asked, his bony chin digging into Peter’s shoulder.

“Sure,” Peter said, shrugging and making Tony yelp and grip onto him tighter. Peter smiled to himself.

“Anything I want?”

“Anything,” Peter confirmed. “As long as it isn’t too spicy. Morgan doesn’t like spicy food.”

“Who’s Morgan?” Tony asked, his voice going high with his curiosity.

Right. Peter had forgotten that Tony didn’t know Morgan, just like he didn’t know any of them. It felt so wrong.

“She’s my little sister,” he said simply.

“Oh,” Tony mumbled, then went very quiet, all excitement at the prospect of picking dinner gone.

“What’s up?” Peter asked.

More silence.

“Tony?” Peter craned his neck, looking over his shoulder only to see Tony’s dark curls.

Tony shook his head.

“Don’t make me tickle it out of you,” Peter warned. “In the middle of the street where everyone can hear you squealing.”

Tony’s head shot up. “No!”

“Alright, so tell me,” Peter commanded, bouncing on his toes to make Tony laugh and take any sting out of the order.

Tony’s little arms tightened around Peter’s shoulders.

“I wish you were my brother,” he muttered, burying his face against Peter’s back.

Peter swallowed, his chest warming. It was a little weird hearing his father figure say he wanted Peter for a big brother, but having his father figure be turned into a eight-year-old was a little weird, too. But it was nice to know that regardless of age and history and responsibility, Tony thought of Peter as his family.

“Yeah?” he asked. Tony nodded. “I’ve always wanted a little brother.”

 True to most eight-year-olds when given the chance to choose dinner, Tony asked for pizza, which they were happy to oblige him with. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he was told they were allowed to eat in the living room while watching a movie. He settled down on the couch wedged next to Peter, his hair still horribly messy from the impromptu wrestling match he’d had with Steve while they waited for dinner. Peter shared a look with Pepper, silently agreeing that he was really freaking adorable.

Peter, who had done the math with Tony’s age and realized that, in Tony’s mind, only one Star Wars movie had been released, eagerly suggested they watch the next one. Tony perked up, looking excited for a second before shrinking in on himself.

“Dad says it’s a stupid movie. Space doesn’t work like that.”

Every adult in the room frowned, but Peter did one better.

“Has your dad been to space?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Tony shook his head.

“Then what does he know?”

Tony’s jaw dropped, his eyes lighting up with impish delight at the insouciant remark.

“So, Star Wars?” Peter suggested again. Tony nodded so hard he looked like a bobble-head.

By the end of the movie, Morgan was asleep in Peter’s lap and Tony was barely conscious, leaning against Peter’s side. Pepper almost melted into a puddle when she looked over at them and dutifully snapped a picture while Peter rolled his eyes, blushing.

“I’ll take this one,” she whispered, carefully lifting Morgan into her arms while nodding at Tony, “if you take him.”

“Yeah, I’ve got him. Goodnight.”

Pepper leaned over and kissed the top of Peter’s head, then Tony’s, who stirred slightly. Then she disappeared into the hallway.

“Petey?” Tony slurred as Peter picked him up. Peter smiled a little at the nickname Tony had adopted as soon as he heard it from Morgan.

Peter took Tony to Rhodey’s currently unused room, since it was closer to him and Pepper than the usual guest rooms. When he tried to set Tony down, however, Tony clung to his t-shirt.

“Tony?” he whispered. He was shocked to see tears clinging to Tony’s dark eyelashes. He sat on the bed, settling Tony against the pillows, the boy still clutching his sleeve.

“Don’t send me back,” Tony pleaded, his words thick and heavy with sleep.

Peter’s gut twisted, his mouth parting in surprise. He’d known Tony had had a rough childhood; Tony was doing better about being honest about that, about his unhappy relationship with his father. But to want to stay here, with strangers, rather than go back to his parents and his home and everything he knew? It must have been worse than he thought.

What should he say to that? How could he tell Tony “I like you, but I want my grown up Tony back now, sorry?” Would explaining that Tony was actually meant to be fifty-three help or hurt? He didn't know.

Luckily, he was spared from having to say anything, because when he looked down again, Tony was asleep.

Sighing heavily, Peter gently pried Tony's hand from his sleeve and laid it on the bed. He pulled the covers up to Tony's chin, then left, shutting the door silently behind him. He'd deal with that later. Right now, he had a time machine to build.

 Peter woke up late, having only gone to bed at four AM when Bruce had tricked him into going and getting snacks and he’d come back to find that FRIDAY had locked him out of the lab. The machine was coming along fairly well—they assumed, considering the blood results had been unable to determine exactly which Tony they had with them right now.

Peter headed to the kitchen and grinned when he saw Tony and Morgan both already there, Morgan regaling Tony with a very longwinded and very elaborate story about the trip to the zoo she’d taken a few weeks ago. Tony seemed more interested in his pancakes than the story, but he nodded along diligently between bites.

“Peter!” Morgan cheered as he walked in, which always made him feel pretty good. Tony looked up and smiled too, perking up a little bit.

“Hey, squirt,” he said, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Good morning, Momo.” He tickled her side and she squealed in delight.

Peter piled his own plate with slightly cold pancakes from the tray left on the counter, sitting across from Tony at the table before drowning them in syrup.

“Petey, when is Daddy coming back?” Morgan asked suddenly. Peter froze, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Back?” he repeated stupidly.

Morgan nodded, pouting. “Mommy said there was an emergency he had to fix, but shouldn’t it be fixed by now? I miss him.”

Peter glanced over at Tony, who was watching them from under his lashes, like he was pretending he wasn’t listening.

“Well, sometimes emergencies take a while to fix, M.” Peter paused, looking at Tony again, who looked back up at him, his eyebrows drawn down in a miniaturized version of Tony’s scowl. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Tony’s mouth twisted into a frown and he suddenly jumped off his chair, leaving the room. Peter sighed, then stood too, following him out.

Tony was sitting in the living room, on the same couch he’d fallen asleep on last night. His toes barely scraped the floor.

Tony jutted his chin out when he saw Peter, his thin arms crossed over his chest.

Even at eight, Tony was a genius. He clenched his jaw, looking straight at Peter with a furious pout that didn’t quite hide the way his bottom lip trembled.

“Am I—” he started, his high voice breaking. “Morgan’s dad, that’s gone, I...”

Peter sighed, then came and sat on the coffee table in front of Tony.

“You were building a time travel device,” Tony said.

“Yeah.”

“And it went wrong.” Peter nodded.

Tony sniffed, then demanded: “Am I your dad?”

Well, not technically, Peter thought, but he wasn’t going to get into that complication with an already distressed eight-year-old.

“Yeah,” Peter said softly.

Tony hiccupped, wiped his nose with his hand.

“Do... do you like me?” He asked, quietly like he didn’t actually want Peter to hear.

Peter’s first instinct was to assure Tony that he loved him, but he remembered Tony talking about how he loved his dad almost as much as he hated him and realized that to Tony, an abused, neglected kid who had spent most of his life thinking he could never be a father, liking and loving were very, very different things.

Peter knelt on the carpet in front of Tony and smiled. “You’re my best friend,” he said honestly.

Tony’s eyes went huge, filling instantly with tears. Peter held his arms open and Tony threw himself into them, burying his face against Peter’s shoulder as his little body shook.

Peter rubbed his back until Tony calmed down, sniffling only a little bit as he sat back in Peter’s arms.

“I’m supposed to be 53?” he asked in disgust. Peter nodded with forced solemnity. Tony’s nose wrinkled. “That’s so old.”

“I know. You have gray hair and everything,” Peter agreed, wrinkling his nose to match Tony’s, making the kid giggle.

“Do I groan every time I stand up? Jarvis does that cause he’s ancient.”

“Every time,” Peter whispered, like it was a secret. “And you fall asleep watching TV.”

“No,” Tony gasped, looking so horrified Peter couldn’t help but laugh.

“Peter.” Peter turned and found Bruce watching them with an almost sad half-smile on his face. “It’s done.”

Tony’s smile dropped and he looked at Peter with wide eyes.

“It’s ok,” Peter assured him.

“Am I... am I going to remember?” Tony asked.

Peter sighed, standing and taking Tony’s hand. “I don’t know, kiddo.”

Tony paused as they passed the kitchen, where Morgan was still sitting at the table, playing with her stuffed Spider-Man toy.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” Peter echoed.

They went down to the lab, where Rhodey and Pepper were waiting. They both gave Tony a hug while Bruce set up the machine. Tony gave Peter another long hug as well, then dutifully stood where Bruce told him to.

There was a flash, some smoke, and eight-year-old Tony was gone. In his place stood the Tony Peter knew so well, with his crows feet and gray hair and reading glasses.

Tony blinked, looking around. “Pep, when did you get here? Bruce? What happened?”

Peter stepped forward and hugged him. He’d liked young Tony but he’d missed his Tony every minute. He liked being the one to bury his face in Tony’s shoulder, having Tony cup the back of his neck and hold him there.

“Kid? You ok?”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed. He could hear the others making a tactical retreat behind him, but still didn’t pull away from Tony, and Tony didn’t make him. He’d learned to appreciate Peter’s clinginess.

“Hey, are you and Pepper going to have more kids?” Peter blurted.

Tony did pull away now, a look of surprise on his face. “Where did that come from?”

Peter shrugged, tucking himself under Tony’s arm as they made their way out of the lab. “I’ve always wanted a little brother.”

Tony snorted. “I already have two absolutely terrible children, I can’t handle a third.”

“Hey.”

Tony shook his head, tightening his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I guess you never know, kiddo. Life is full of surprises.”

Peter huffed a laugh, thinking about the last day he’d spent with a miniaturized Tony. “Don’t I know it.”