#Truce extension

[vyorei]

Live coverage of the 27th of November 2023 has now begun.

Here is an amalgamation of news from the last hour, oldest at the top, latest at the bottom

[greencarnation]

News from Palestine 30/11/23 00:28 GMT

[mcyt-rarepair-tournament]

Incredibly off topic but @mcyt-builds-contest is currently going on and the final round has Pandora's Vault (VOTE FOR PANDORA'S VAULT!) and in light of all the Traffic SMP/Hermitcraft people who are incapable of being normal about DSMP fans, just letting you know that The Inbetween and Otherside are my wives. So is every other TFTSMP build. Me and the Masquerade map are in a toxic relationship and me and The Pit are about to go through a rough patch. I have a giant bed for every single one of my gorgeous wives. Yes I'm aro. Yes I have also referred to c!Karl as my wife. Yes every iteration of Lizzie is also simultaneously my wife. Yes tftsmp itself is also my wife. This is true polyamory.

[arnold-layne]

anybody got any advice on how to wage war against your roommate without direct confrontation

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic Idea: New Money

The ghost zone doesn't have a formal form of currency. Depending on which part of the zone one is in, a trade could be made, or a Deal can be struck, but coins can rarely, if ever, be exchanged.

Every subculture that forms in the zone can eventually develop its own currency, but it will only have value within its territory. An example would be the credit crystals that the Far Frozen have developed, with a corresponding amount of funds floating inside their iced rocks. Still, if a Yeti were to travel even a foot outside their snowy mountains, the stones would become an interesting clothing choice and nothing else.

Ghosts value emotions more than any amount of gold or coin. Oftentimes, the most powerful of ecto beings would battle it out if a child's favorite teddy bear somehow found its way into the zone, though the thin cracks between worlds or an entire army of ghost mercenaries could be bought with a single pair of favorited socks.

It may not seem as much to the living, but to ghosts who could see the attachment embedded into the item, it meant everything. Some emotions could even be eaten off of the items if they were fresh enough, and while it did give a power boost, most of the time, the emotions were positive.

If a negative emotion was eaten, Ghosts could quickly become addicted to it, and when cut off from the negative emotion, they could soon fall apart in seconds.

Spectra was a famous example used in the zone as a precautionary tale for all new ghosts. Her beauty and power were only a facade to her desperation for angst emotions, and she flouted about the Zone, always on the hunt for her next fix.

It was pretty sad to see.

A few ghosts did their best to limit additions, such as Walker, who established himself a section of the zone using his great sense of justice that he had died with. He found human contraband that came into the zone unnaturally, sealing them away in his haunt.

These items usually had lickings of anxiety, desperation, or even fear attached to them and could quickly turn any ghost into a violent sort.

Walker's mission since his creation was to limit this exposal. He even arrested various ghosts that went to the human world through unnatural means, a majority coming back contaminated with human emotions and becoming a danger to fellow ghosts.

Most of these ghosts had items on them that were deemed worthless once all emotion was sucked out. Walker usually had his men take them to the Dump.

The Dump in the Ghost Zone was an extensive collection of worthless items gathered at the far right. It was known as a neutral section of the Zone, as every civilization and haunt often traveled there to eliminate clutter. Everything unwanted usually finds its way to the Dump.

Danny, after having a trial with Walker and coming to the understanding that he was not, in fact, attempting to make his fellow Ghosts addicted to anger- cause apparently a majority of Walker's prisoners were in there because of their exposal to Danny!- he was directed to the Dump to rid of his worthless ripped bag.

Danny had flown there expecting mountains and mountains of garbage. What he found instead were islands made entirely of gold. He flouted over the piles and piles of jewels, gold coins, random bills, and valuable items, gaping at the long collection that went further than his eye could see.

"What is all of this?" He gasps just as Box Ghost floats by carrying a jewelry box. He flips it open and shakes out a necklace with a diamond as large as Danny's palm onto the pile of jewelry. He gives Danny a friendly wave when they make eye contact.

He proudly flouts over to Danny, taking the neutral status of the Dump to heart. No fighting was allowed in this territory, much like Truce Day; all ghosts abided by this rule.

"The Box Ghost was lucky to be near a natural portal leading to the Human world's sea. This small rectangular object was once beloved by a grandmother, and now it is all mine!" He cheers, holding the jewelry box, practically half rotted and dripping wet over his head. A faint, gentle green glow surrounded it.

Danny blinks, pointing down at the necklace. "What about that? Aren't you going to keep it?"

"The Box Ghost has no need for useless stones!" The floating man even sticks his tongue to the necklace that could pay for Danny's college education (If it were real).

Only half joking, Danny asks, "Can I have it then?"

Box Ghost blinks, then gestures to the mountains and mountains of wealth. "If the Ghost Child wishes for a garage, he can take whatever he likes. No one will mind. Though, why would you waste time on soulless items? Box Ghost can not be sure!"

Box Ghost flies away laughing as if Danny was the one to mock for wanting a diamond necklace. He watches the ghost go before turning back to the mountains and mountains of shimmering gold.

Deciding to fly through the Dump to see what else he can find, Danny begins exploring- but not before taking the necklace- and later comes upon an island dedicated to various human clothing that looked like it came from hundreds of eras. He finds himself dressing up like a Lord of Old for fun when he happens upon leather bags.

Seeing as no one was there to stop him, Danny filled up each bag with chains and jewels, flying home in his new get up. He figured he could use some of the funds even if the gold was fake.

_____________________________________________________________

Oliver Queen is new money. His wealth came from only three generations ago, and while that is rather impressive, it held no candle to families like the Waynes.

The Waynes were old money, and their galas showed it. Every time old Brucie called him to celebrate, Oliver went along only to keep his company board happy.

They couldn't afford to offend one of their most prominent investors even if there were no thoughts behind Bruce Wayne's eyes. Oliver would have enjoyed himself more at these parties- if there was one thing Bruce Wayne knew how to do: throw a fantastic party- but sadly, he had to deal with the other old-money people who attended Bruce's parties.

The passive aggression reminders that he would never been on their level, the choking humiliation, the constant looking down on him. Well, it got exhausting. Especially since Oliver spent so much of his free time fighting for justice and trying to make the world a better place. These people talked and acted like they were above it all.

Like nothing could touch them, even when a majority of them were the cause for so much darkness, Oliver faced as Green Arrow.

He needed a stronger drink.

"Rather self-important for new money, isn't he?" A woman whispers loudly, mocking in every inch of her tone. Oliver's eyebrow twitches as he drowns his glass. He turns towards the voice, somewhat ready to cause a scene so he can go home, but it is a surprise to find that the gossiping woman isn't facing him

Rather, they are turned towards a young man, likely late teens, who is currently piling his plate high with sweets. The boy glances in the woman's direction before snorting unattractively and adding more to his plate.

Oliver is mildly impressed that he could make the woman flush with rage without saying anything. He had never seen the kid before, but he almost looked like a new Wayne with his dark hair and sparkling blue eyes.

He finds his feet walking towards the teenager before he can think about it. Something interesting may be at this gala after all.

"Hey, you seemed to really like fudge. Have you tried the raspberry ones? It's the best." He starts gesturing to a familiar chef's name in front of a chocolate tray. He had a sample of their work only a week ago when Batman brought some to the Watch Tower.

It was absolutely heaven.

The teen considered the pink color fudge before he took three cudes. With his bare hands. Well. New money, indeed.

"Thanks!" The boy chirps after stuffing one in his mouth and savoring the flavor.

"You're welcome. My son, Roy, really likes it too." He smiles as the boy glances towards where his adoptive son is currently chatting with Jason Todd. Those two find themselves attached to the hip whenever there is a gala. Maybe Roy will bring him home for the holidays soon. "I'm Oliver Queen, owner of Queen Industries."

"Danny Fenton," The boy responds slightly hesitantly. "Do all rich people do that? Add what makes them rich to their inductions?"

Oliver snorts, "Only the real tacky ones."

"Okay, Mr. Owner of Queen Industries."

Oh Oliver like this kid. He grins, ignoring the jab. "And what about you? What made you rich enough to be here to tonight."

The kid's eyes gain a certain glint of humor as he shrugs. "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

Oliver moves to ask what he means, but Brucie shows up then, and he can't find a way out of the conversation. He's buttering up to the big idiot, knowing he lost sight of the strange boy.

Afterward, Oliver looks into Danny Fenton, only to find that the boy somehow appears out of nowhere with billions of dollars but no known source of where he got them. It also seems Batman was already on the case, assuming the boy was counterfeiting somehow, but Oliver didn't get that sense from the kid.

Something wasn't adding up about the boy, but he didn't think it was illegal. He just had to convince the big bad bat of that. If only it could be as easy as convincing Bruce Wayne to spend millions of dollars.

[mahmoud0qassas]

There is a great possibility that a temporary truce agreement will be reached, and the terms of the truce are agreed upon: the army’s temporary withdrawal from all areas, and the return of the Rafah crossing to remove people who want to travel.

I ask every person with a conscience and a pure heart to feel for us, because my family is large, and to donate to us generously, because there is no agreement on a specific period for the truce, and it is possible for them to return to all areas and continue the bombing and killing of innocents and defenseless children.

I have a huge burden on my shoulders, and the war made me go through the most difficult suffering, because my brother has special needs, and my wife’s mother lost her sight as a result of a stroke, and my daughter dreams of living in safety like the children of the world.

I hope you will support us, and I hope you will donate generously, and share it extensively so that it reaches the largest number and get everyone to donate to us, because I am unable to escape with everyone if something bad happens to us.

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter X

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 6.5k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including tags for choking. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Chapter I Previous Chapter Part X (Current Chapter)

Notes: I'M FINALLY THOUGH EDITING IS IT REALLY MY FAULT I'M A FAILURE?????

The negotiations would last several weeks, and leadership from all allied clans would gather in one place with the intention to form a united village. Just prior to all the impending formal political talks, the Uchiha and the Senju shared a ceremonial banquet following Hashirama’s speech. The show of friendship between him and Madara was meant to act as the first step to unity, and for how tense you had expected it to be, the night went over fairly well.

Most people stuck to their own kind, and you could understand their hesitation to make casual conversation with the very people they had just been at generational odds with only a few days prior. Not to mention that Madara wasn’t exactly adept at acting friendly, which did little to help matters in the face of visibly petrified members of the Senju. You had discretely nudged Madara’s shoulder. He could have afforded to present himself far less intimidatingly.

But it seemed that Hashirama’s zealous personality could break through even the coldest of attitudes, and you choked it up to his extroverted personality that put people at better ease.

You hardly left Madara’s side throughout the duration of the night, even as he made extensive chatter with Hashirama: all shop talk. For bitter, lifetime rivals, you couldn’t help but consider that they got along rather famously. And for the dichotomy in their personalities, Madara’s imposing gravity and Hashirama’s endless electricity balanced out surprisingly well from what you witnessed. 

They talked to each other like they’d known each other forever, and you couldn't recall a time you had ever seen Madara so at ease. 

To your surprise, Tobirama was also active, doing the rounds to answer questions and shake hands just as much as Hashirama. 

He seemed much more severe than you remembered him. His round eyes had become almost lidded and stern, and the expressiveness of his face had faded almost entirely. Any expression was replaced with a neutral line that resembled a frown more often than not. But despite his unfortunately standoffish demeanor, people still appeared to find him approachable, waving him over and standing with clear interest as they probed him with questions. And while Hashirama spun hope of the village's founding, Tobirama answered the logistical questions. 

“Several locations will be considered during negotiations,” you heard him tell a small group of concerned Senju. He had his arms crossed sternly over his chest. His voice was much deeper than when you last heard it about ten years prior. 

Tobirama appeared around you a few times throughout the night, standing a distance away with his attention occupied by various clan members. However, you couldn’t help but note how he kept his body turned ever so slightly, and you wondered if he eyed you out of his peripheral the way you kept him in yours. 

You, too, shifted your stance, following Madara closely around the hall for the few rounds he made. Madara wasn’t nearly as social as the Senju appeared to be— perhaps it was a cultural difference. Although it did occur to you that the Senju didn’t seem to know much about the truce at all.

While Madara and the rest of the council (the council you supposed you were now a part of due to your fibbing) held a village-wide, night-long meeting to hash out questions and concerns about joining up with the Senju, Hashirama appeared to have had no such discussion with his people. Instead, it seemed that the first formal discussions about this decision among the Senju were occurring here at the announcement banquet.

And while the Senju certainly had significant concerns and an even greater number of questions, they appeared relatively docile, taking Hashirama and Tobirama’s answers and words with great weight. No one but Hashirama and his charming personality could have pulled such a thing off, you considered.

The Uchiha were the first to trickle off, many of them leaving after an unspecified amount of time to return to the village in the crook of the southern shoulder. The fact that it was approaching dark wasn’t of concern, considering that the Uchiha as a whole tended to favor nighttime travel. 

The Senju stayed the longest, occupying the hall in astonishingly great numbers well into the night. They even outlasted you, Madara, and the Uchiha council, all of whom were beginning to drift away back to your temporary quarters on the neutral negotiation grounds. 

You stood at the far end of the hall near the exit as Madara bid a lengthy farewell to Hashirama, having been sucked into an excessively long bout of shop talk. Tobirama stood at the far end, leaning against a table. He hunched intently and nodded along to a fellow Senju clan member.

You wondered if his gaze followed your presence as easily as yours did him. You soon left with Madara. You had lengthy negotiations ahead of you.

***

You were grossly underprepared; that much was true. And perhaps you should have known as much when you saw how every other clan, even those already affiliated with the Uchiha, brought parcels upon parcels of paper into the meeting room. As a self-appointed member of the council, you carried nothing, nor did the rest of the council members who were chosen through battle. The idea of Madara having prepared documents didn’t even occur to you, nor should it have, considering that he, too, came empty-handed. 

“I would like to thank each of you for making the journey to join together in this place for these historic discussions,” Hashirama began, assuming leadership over the negotiations. “In the mere act of traveling all this way and bringing the openness of your mind, you are already changing the future for the better.”

Several clan heads from small clans as well as leadership from allied ones gathered around the table. Papers and quills sat neatly on the table everywhere but in front of the Uchiha. Members of the various councils and other assistants sat along the room's perimeter, some haphazardly pulling in a random assortment of chairs while others stood behind their respective leaders. 

Madara sat directly across from Hashirama, ignoring the other clan leaders' pointed glances toward Madara’s ignited sharingan eye. Your back touched the wall just a short distance behind him. The other Uchiha counselors took up great space with their chairs, and even with one or two sitting on the floor, the liberal space behind Madara was indeed occupied. 

“There are several topics to discuss on the docket, and while one is no less important than the other, I believe our first decision should be that of location.” Hashirama shifted a page in front of him before glancing back up at the table. “Does any clan pose a quarrel?”

“Is this perhaps too rash to begin with choosing land?” the head of the Fuma questioned. He sat forward, forearms crossed on the table as he stared directly ahead toward the Inuzuka clan head. “Setting boundaries for how our people are to behave should be of primary importance. From there, we can speak about the governmental structure.”

“I implore you to elaborate on what you speak,” Inuzuka spat, crinkling her nose in disgust. 

“The notion that we are to join together in unity is indeed pleasant, but I do hold concern for my people over the lack of self-control in some disingenuous natures gathered here.”

“This is rich from your tongue!” Inuzuka barked. “Your interest in policy-making is so transparent it is foul!”

“I am in agreement,” Hyūga interjected, already beginning to gather his things. His slender, opaque eyes narrowed at Fuma before glancing at Madara. “Negotiating with those who only know savagery appears fruitless indeed. Gaze upon Madara’s brazenly ignited sharingan eye! I call for expectations to be set!” Hyūga glanced around in search of support before fully turning toward the Uchiha. “Is not the presentation of the sharingan in opposition to bare eyes a show of violence in your culture? Is it not a declaration of battle?”

“This is spoken by an amoral backstabber!” Hagoromo growled. “Your allegiance falters in the wind! Were you not recently allied with the Uchiha before your betrayal at the first sign of conflict?”

”Enough, enough, my friends,” Hashirama attempted, but the quibbling continued. 

“He may set this hall ablaze any time he pleases! What if negotiations do not go his way?”

”All of us understand that you care not for clans which are not your own.” Fuma frowned. “Do us all a service and cease pretending you are remotely invested in unity.”

”As if you care for unity!”

Papers shifted across the table as intricately drafted documents were swept into piles. The cacophony of chatter only increased as voices melded together in petty dispute, and it was only when chairs began to shift back from the table that Madara’s hand slammed hard on the table.

”Silence!” Madara’s voice boomed, quickly standing with suddenness.

The sheer volume and dominance that Madara held in it caused all talk to cease, but it also caused clan heads and aids alike to stand, chakra networks flaring to life like a blazing wildfire. The word was curt and singular in its existence, but it only escalated the tension in the room as the backs of chairs slammed against the floor and kunai were drawn out of hidden holsters. The Uchiha council members shot up instantly, igniting sharingan as they stood at Madara’s defense.

He stood, hulking over his place at the negotiation table as the rest of the clan heads watched him where he stood, ready to strike with the most minuscule of sudden movements.

Hashirama sat at the opposite end of the table, his expression unreadable. Tobirama had instinctually stepped forward and stopped only by his brother's raised hand.

Madara continued to speak. His eyes still shone a glowing red.

 “You all think this a game? You would play with the lives of your people so? Hashirama and I do not put an end to centuries of generational bloodshed for it to be tarnished by disingenuous characters…” Madara challenged. He slowly straightened his back to stand at full height as he surveyed the leaders around the table. “I thought we all gathered because we have all been worn by gore and violence… However, for any who is pompous enough to find himself not fatigued enough, so much that he may disturb these negotiations at this place, I would be more than willing to offer a remedy—”

“Speak for yourself, Uchiha!”

“Enough.” Hashirama finally spoke again with far more sternness, and perhaps it was the grave tone— such a difference from his usual upbeat demeanor— that caused the room to stand still. You watched as he heaved a heavy sigh. You had never seen Hashirama frown before. “There will be no talks such as this. I implore everybody to sit. Yield your jutsu… and your weaponry.”

A pregnant pause occupied the room. And slowly, each clan head began to return to their seats one by one. The tension in the air remained, but Hashirama’s marinating words slowly breathed life back into the atmosphere. And to your surprise, Madara resumed his seat without protest. Only one was left standing.

”Hyūga…” Nara spoke from his seat. “I encourage you to sit.” He offered a shallow nod to the leader of the byakugan-bearing clan. Blank irises stared back at him. “Please, I would like for Hashirama to continue.”

The contempt in Hyūga’s eyes was palpable, and the scrunching of his nose was even more explicit. But even he, too, took his seat once more. 

Having gathered the room's attention, Nara yielded the floor to Hashirama, who appeared graver than you had ever seen him. His smile and cordial face had settled into a neutral if not stern, expression, and the atmosphere in the room sobered. 

“If anyone around this table is disinterested in moving forward with this alliance, you are free to leave. Your decisions will not be held against you or your people, and you will be allowed to retreat from this place safely.” Hashirama said. The room sat still. “But if you choose to stay, we all are to approach these negotiations— and one another— with respect and sincerity. Charged rhetoric will get us nowhere. Are we in agreement?” 

No one but Hashirama could have said such things and been taken with gravity. Even now, a heavy aura radiated from him, spreading across the room as clan leaders settled back into their seats. 

“It is true,” Hyūga reluctantly admitted. He turned to Hashirama with a slight bow of his head. “I offer you my apologies, Hashirama.” 

A low murmur circled the room with similar sentiments. 

“However,” he continued, glancing back toward Madara, “If we are expected to yield ourselves to these negotiations, I would personally feel more at ease if Madara were to extinguish his mangekyo sharingan.”

“Aye,” Yamanaka agreed. “As a show of goodwill.” A few nods circled the table.

Madara scowled. 

“The sharingan is a recording device—”

“The sharingan is a recording device as much as a kunai is a quill,” Inuzuka barked, leaning back in her chair with crossed arms. She rolled her eyes and yawned. “Extinguish your weapon, and let us get on with these talks.”

It took a beat of silence, but to your surprise, Madara obliged. The reds of his eyes spiraled into darkness, restoring his irises to their usual deep brown. He continued to frown.

“One of my councilmen will maintain his ocular jutsu,” he sternly insisted. “The Uchiha have a right to keep our account of these meetings.”

“Certainly not!”

“Have your council keep documents like the rest of us—”

“The Uchiha should not be able to maintain something so brazen as a warrior with an ocular jutsu—”

“The woman.” Tobirama’s voice cut across the chatter. You made eye contact with him for the first time since you had met each other again. He stood just behind Hashirama’s shoulder, his red irises boring into yours and his arms crossed. His gaze didn’t leave yours for a second as he spoke. “The woman can keep the record for the Uchiha, for she is not a combatant.”

Madara’s head snapped up instantly, a scathing glare painted over his face. Tobirama’s eyes flickered to Madara. A few heads bobbed around the table. 

“That would be satisfactory…” you heard.

“She is a member of your council, is she not, Madara?” Tobirama doubled down.

You only had a view of the back of Madara’s head, not of the scathing expression that contorted his face as he tried to piece together what Tobirama was playing at. They stayed like that for a few moments, locked in a challenging stare before Madara finally spoke, surprising you with how easily he relented.

“Yes.” He glanced back at you for the briefest of moments. “Yes, she is.”

“Well, if everyone is in agreement, we can finally move past this,” Tobirama spoke quickly, just about cutting Madara off. His eyes drifted back to yours, staring at you along with the rest of the room. 

All attention was on you. You felt it shouldn’t have mattered how important these people were, but knowing their status only made you sweat. Tobirama’s intense stare felt the hottest. 

In a moment unknown to you, Hashirama’s wary gaze drifted toward his younger brother, the thoughts in his head varying in comparison to the room.

You averted your eyes to Madara, who had turned his head just slightly enough to catch your eye from over his shoulder. He hardly gave you a nod. He hardly needed to. 

You cast your eyes down, the reds of your eyes swirling to life. The pattern of your irises was nowhere near as stunning as Madara’s, but your simple eye pattern didn’t appear too important to anyone else.

Hashirama spoke, his usual jolly expression back on his face as he laughed, “We have put off our first order of business for too long now! Let us begin with—” 

With your sharingan ignited, you could never forget Tobirama’s scathing gaze.

***

You were arranged in your own sort of village. Having chosen a slice of heavily forested neutral land that belonged to the Nara, every clan head and posse of advisors were granted their own living quarters for the duration of the negotiations, which were spread out across the small territory. (It all was courtesy of Hashirama Senju’s wood style— you didn’t think there was a single thing that man couldn’t do). 

The negotiation hall was also rather large, consisting of the main, intricately decorated conference room. It also held of a few smaller rooms for clan councils to work out their proposals after hours. You could always smell the kitchen from where you worked, which was exactly next door to the hall.

Run by three Nara aunties, the kitchen always seemed to dish out meals on time and in excess. And for all the petty fighting and suspicion that seemed to subtly lace every other word spoken between clans, no one dared to question any of the Nara cooks. 

Meals were taken in a scattered way, with some councils choosing to sit at communal tables within the dining hall while others took their food in private and likely over political documents. You took yours at one of the few tables that sat outside. Nowadays, you learned to take in the sun whenever you could, opting for a quaint spot under a nearby tree. 

The spot and the view were both aesthetically pleasing, which you assumed brought Mito Uzumaki to plop herself down next to you. And plop she did, her elegant and flowing robes creating a silk wave around her as she looked at you.

“I am Mito Uzumaki,” she said with a curt nod. Straightforward. You already knew who she was. She looked at you with all the seriousness in the world, and the severe pout on her lips made you lower your chopsticks on sight. You weren’t quite ready to handle political matters with such important figures on your own— “I have never seen an Uchiha woman before. Is it true that your clan prefers to send exclusively men into battle?”

Mito maintained direct eye contact as you waited for the punchline, despite the fact that you hadn’t truly mistaken her statement as a joke in the first place. No punchline came. Instead, a gentle breeze passed, making her hair ornaments sway as her face sat comically rigid. You offered her your name, but not even that caused a crack in Mito’s stoicism. You continued tentatively,

“I suppose now you have. Seen an Uchiha woman, that is,” you said, speaking more words that were absorbed into the silence. “I have never seen an Uzumaki woman before…?”

You hadn’t thought it was all that funny. You hadn’t meant for what you said to be comical in the slightest, and yet the loudest, most operatic laugh you had ever heard tore from Mito’s throat like a rogue bird. It came out as one giant “HA!” before she quickly slapped a sleeve-clan hand over her mouth. 

“I see; yes, I suppose that is true.” She nodded, and in an instant, she had composed herself entirely, reverting to her severe, neutral expression. 

You remembered her from the negotiations. She hasn’t said much during the initial squabbling; in fact, you hadn’t recalled her saying anything. But when it came time to discuss actual topics pertaining to the village, the Uzumaki clan made themselves prominent in the discussions. Poised and amply prepared in her talking points, you never knew there could be such a woman leader— much less a clan head. 

“You have quite the sharp wit. I can see why you are so prominent on the Uchiha council,” Mito hummed. 

You opened your mouth to correct her, but you faltered for words. What would you tell her? That you lied during a moment of panic in front of your scorned lover from your teenage years? Perhaps it was her compliment that caused your lips to close. Mito faced forward as you thought, tilting her head slightly. 

“When I first came to attend these negotiations, I was warned there might not be many other women. I had approached Inuzuka, but she did not seem to be one for casual speaking. This is why I say these things. Perhaps I am too invested in such labels,” she said before she rose. Mito gracefully smoothed out her robes. “I will not disturb your meal more than I already have, although—” She turned to you with a delicate smile. “I hope that we may work together in the near future.”

”Yes, most certainly,” you offered, still not entirely wrapping your head around the interaction in the slightest.

Even as she walked away, you pondered her.

***

Mito hadn’t been the only one to mistake you for someone of importance. However, you couldn’t necessarily blame anyone who assumed you would be a good contact with Madara. You did tell Hashirama you were on the Uchiha council, after all, and having shown up to the meetings acting as the Uchiha’s resident records keeper, you had assumed the role rather ideally. But acting only served to get you a short distance and did little for your actual political knowledge or your nerve.

 And so, when you received important documents to be reviewed by the next day’s session, you thought you would pass them off to Madara. You had tried to politely decline the scrolls several times, insisting that they should go to a member who was actually a part of the council without saying the quiet part out loud, but the notes had been thrust upon you regardless. 

You flipped through them out of acute curiosity, skimming them as you returned to the Uchiha quarters. It wasn’t far out of the way, within walking distance of the meeting hall but far enough from the other residences for privacy and peace of mind. You trudged up the path amongst the trees, just beginning to roll the last scroll back up when the Uchiha residence appeared.

But it wasn’t the intricately built building that made you stop at the edge of the trees. 

Tobirama scrambled up from where he sat on the steps to the engawa, placing one foot on the ground while the other retreated a step up. You stood just a short distance away, visibly stunned, as the surprise in Tobirama’s eyes flashed across his red irises before disappearing instantly.

His jaw tightened as a low rumble ruminated around his chest. He cast his gaze off to the side. 

”I was informed that they had just sent a trusted member of the Uchiha council here to deliver the updated documents and that I was to give this to him.” Tobirama held out yet another scroll, nearly identical to the ones you carried. “It was left behind.”

You performed another swivel of your head. The Uchiha lodgings were quiet. A gentle breeze rattled the leaves around you. Madara must be off meeting with Hashirama.

The scroll sat in the air, and you made no effort to retrieve it from him. You took a step back. Tobirama’s arm lowered. His brow twitched.

”And they sent you for this?” you asked. Tobirama’s scowl deepened. “I understand being asked to run papers myself, but—” You purposefully met his gaze with a creased brow and a frown. “They sent you…?”

”I could do the task the swiftest, that is, if Madara was actually here. They must have headed back into town,” Tobirama said just a beat too quickly. “I am surprised you were not notified. I could have saved myself the trouble.” He waved the scroll toward you, bobbing his head in annoyance. “I cannot say I take a liking to the situation any more than you do, so be hasty now.”

“Any more than I?” You scoffed. Your head swiveled around to check your surroundings. When you faced him again, you spoke with a quiet hiss. “Excuse my hesitancy, for the last time we spoke, I do recall you were detailing your plans to mutilate my butchered corpse!”

 Tobirama huffed, but he visibly tensed. His eyes also surveyed the surrounding woods before he glanced back at the Uchiha compound. He leaned forward, not that the slight distance made much of a difference, as he scolded you softly from across the clearing.

“Quite the exaggeration, considering you were an enemy spy,” he gritted lowly through his teeth. His gaze continued to dart around the trees. He scowled deeply before casting his shifty gaze off to the side again.

”This is false by your own admission!” You moved partway into the clearing, your index finger pointed. Another glance away. Your voice was hushed, still hissing in an attempt at secrecy. “You had affirmed that I was a non-combatant in the initial round of discussions, and in any case, it would be inaccurate to describe me as anything else—!”

 “A spy constitutes a danger,” he said quickly, lip curling downward into a shape that could have easily been a pout. 

It was an annoyed gesture but devoid of actual weight. Tobirama sighed, and as he closed his eyes, you could see the tension in his shoulders deflate. He was surely displeased with having to face you so soon, but lacked aggression.

It sent you back, thinking you saw a glimmer of something from the past in the barely recognizable man before you. You never thought you would see him again, after all, and despite the ongoing peace negotiations, there was no doubt in your mind that your previous affair could stir up tensions. 

Your heart constricted, your pulse pounding in your ears. A magnetic force willed you forward, the feeling suffocating your lungs and throat, a dense curiosity. How purposeful had his appearance at the Uchiha compound been?

You wondered what Tobirama thought of all this. You wondered if he looked back upon you fondly like an old flame or perhaps if he was eager to see you again. Maybe it was all too hopeful for the disgust and resentment that coated your very last interaction. 

You thought. You thought. You thought.

But an answer came more swiftly than you anticipated. 

”You seek something that is no longer present.” The skin around his eyes had creased, narrowing his red gaze incredulously at you, piercing you deeply. Tobirama’s voice cut through your thoughts as if reading your mind. It occurred to you for a moment that such a jutsu might exist. “I can see it in those damned eyes… it is the reason you take matters of the battlefield so personally.”

It wasn’t until you stopped short that you realized you were walking toward him. The sudden hostility in his voice froze you mid-step. You stared into his red irises, looking for any hint of his thoughts. 

You thought you had seen something, even in his vexed expression, but its shadow passed quicker than you could catch. And now, he looked down upon you, arms crossed and cold.

“What?” It was the only thing you could think to say. You blinked a few times in disbelief.

Tobirama held the scroll out to you again, waving it a few times in the air. Your gaze darted from the paper back to Tobirama. 

You wanted to step back.

“Do not make this harder than it needs to be,” he gritted. “Your faintheartedness is going to make a mockery of us both, so I implored you not to take matters of the battlefield so personally.” 

His eyes darted to the side with another shake of the scroll, but you didn’t move to take the document from him. Tobirama glared at you a moment more, anticipating a moment that would never come. He retreated with a sigh, pocketing the scroll with a vexed grumble. 

He moved to bypass you, and you should have, by all means, allowed him to continue. 

There was an immense burning in your chest, which grew by the second, pulling you forward toward an opposition you had intended to avoid. Your body moved on its own to obstruct Tobirama’s path.

A short distance still sat between you, but the few steps of dirt did nothing to make up for your indiscretion. Tobirama gazed down at you, almost as surprised as you were at your forwardness. You stood still by sheer and embarrassing stubbornness alone, driven by an urge to pull something from him that even you didn’t know. 

Tobirama stood over you with lidded eyes and a severe expression that contorted his frown deeper. He crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders back as he regarded you. Your nose crinkled between your widened eyes.

You were scared, shaking. It was an incredulous move. Peace negotiations be damned; you must have been out of your mind to challenge the second in command to the most powerful clan in the Land of Fire. Not to mention alone, and for what? It was something that didn’t escape you, but the panic in you needed everything to stay the way it was. Nothing could move, not until you had time to think—

“Move.”

You shook your head. You babbled like a cornered doe. 

— “You did not actually think I was a spy—”

“Move, you foul, demonic creature,” he suddenly thundered. His voice cut through the silence of the clearing in a way you hadn’t anticipated. The volume made you flinch, and the deep roar shook you, striking genuine fear into your heart.

Tobirama was a man now, you had to remind yourself. He had been tall before, but he held an even grander stature now. His form was carved through battle— the killing of your kinsman and the thorough training that you yourself had witnessed long ago. 

You were not naive enough not to understand what such a man was capable of.  

Tobirama’s face was beginning to turn a shade of red. The fur around his neck flared up around his neck like the mane of a lion. He tilted his head back to stare at the sky as he heaved a deep breath. Tobirama moved to retrieve the scroll from his belt, again holding it to you, this time far more aggressively.

“I implore you to cease your difficulty—”

You slapped his hand. 

You slapped him, and the scroll went tumbling to the ground.

You wondered what your face looked like and if it looked as wide and shocked as Tobirama’s. You were sure your expression didn’t revert to stoicism as quickly.

You wished it did.

”Difficulty?” You steamed, spurred on by panic alone. “You argue with me over petty things such as definition, acting rudely to a diplomatic ally, and speaking of difficulty?” Your voice rose. And in a way, you were sent back to a time when you scolded Madara more often— before his promotion to clan head.

His face was severe. 

Your heart pounded in your chest.

You had just laid your hands on Tobirama Senju. And to disrespect a document used in peace negotiations, no less. 

“Are you out of your head?” Tobirama snapped. His hand jerked away as he took a half step back. A part of him seethed; you didn’t have to see it in the twitch of his brow. “If I informed my brother that a member of the Uchiha council made such a gesture, I am certain that the other clans would consider it a declaration of war.” 

He made a sudden gesture toward you, flaring at you and forcing you to take a step back. And for a second, the reds of your irises swirled to life before dissipating into their usual color. 

The movement stunned you, but it only fueled your mounting rage further. You stood, tense in the shadow of the tree line. Tobirama didn’t move as he settled back into stoicism. Although, his clenched jaw betrayed him. 

The forest stood still around you. 

“I had wanted to see it for myself…” Tobirama’s voice faded into a low, haunted grumble. Tobirama’s stare fixed onto your eyes, and whatever the expression was— curious or disgusted— held a morbid gravity. 

He let out a steady stream of air in an attempt to rope himself back to calmness.

He blinked once… twice…

“You are fortunate that we are in this setting of negotiation and unity, for I would not have humored your petty whims for this long otherwise.” His voice dipped, registering at a timber that shook like a predator's growl. You were still shaking. Tobirama stepped forward. “You dare forget yourself when speaking to a warrior of my caliber? Do you consider that I have the time of day for these things? Now move, or I will move you.”

You were frozen, shaking with wide eyes and a crinkled brow as you did what Tobirama could only describe as staring him down. The embers of a raging glint flickered in your eyes, which were beginning to glaze over with tears of stress. You refused to let any of them fall, allowing the water outline the fire that burned in your irises. 

“You would not dare lay a finger on me, and I know as much.” The words lashed from your lips with a heat that burned at Tobirama’s chilly defense. 

You stood at a stalemate, a pause wedging itself between the two of you. 

His presence was overwhelming. Displeased energy radiated off him in waves, making his mounting fury palpable in the air. Tobirama scrunched his mouth, forcing his bottom lip into a severe scowl.

“Because you think I fear Madara?” The question was laced with an accusation. “Madara knows better than to test me.” Tobirama took another step forward, continuing to darken. Instinctively, you stepped back.

“The only reason the Uchiha have leadership intact at all is due to my brother’s amply generous charity.” He tilted his head, studying you with scrutiny. “Is this what you do? Seek out powerful men to hide behind? To prey upon like a lowly urchin?”

You gritted your teeth, glancing him up and down with a flicker of your eyes.  

“I would hardly have referred to you as a powerful man, let alone a man at all—“

“I have had enough of you and of the Uchiha. If this is how things will work, I might as well inform Hashirama that this entire endeavor is as fruitless as I advised him in the first place.” Vindictive. Spiteful. Reckless. Hyperbolized. 

Tobirama pushed past you, moving out of the clearing and toward the path back to the main settlement. 

Not even your momentary flare of courage could make you stand your ground or chase after him as he left. No, not when you were crushed by the weight of what Tobirama just threatened. 

The Uchiha couldn’t afford to resume fighting the Senju, and despite Hashirama’s good nature, you were certain that the Uchiha could be ended here and now if Madara was forced to fight. 

And while you had witnessed Madara’s great strength firsthand, you knew he could not hope to win in this setting. It would all be over. The clan. The dear one you had left. You. All for what?

That had been the question that had been ruminating through your thoughts.

You stared at the back of Tobirama’s retreating head. Air caught in your throat. Panic whipped around all of your thoughts.

For what? For what? For what? For what?

You hadn’t wanted to fight him, nor did you want to chase him. But the nagging heat in your core grew nonetheless. You spun around, an unyielding fury bubbling up in your throat. And against your better judgment, you critically called,

“What would your clan think about your dedication?” It was only with your empty threat that Tobirama stopped. He stopped short in the middle of the path, letting his foot slide as the earth crumbled beneath his heel. He dropped down a quarter step, faced away from you, and unreadable. He was listening, and you were desperate. “You had given much to an Uchiha girl in your past! Would your clan be pleased to know that her memory was the reason for the unrecognizably bitter chakra?”

You almost laughed at your own gaul, and your eyes only widened as he marched back up the path toward you. 

You rambled with panic, the words leaving your tongue before you could think of them. Sweat manifested on your skin as pure adrenaline took over.

“The son of the famed Batsuma Senju and cherished younger brother of the great God of Shinobi, Hashirama Senju, is intimidated in the face of a woman! You should be ashamed—!”

Tobirama only needed a few long strides before he was upon you. Tobirama’s hand shot out to grasp your neck, only for it to phase right through, your illusion dissipating into the air. But just as your figure began to dissipate, and just as you were about to slip past him to make your escape, his other hand aimed directly through your genjutsu and wrapped tightly around your throat in a mere moment of battlefield instinct. 

You were swept off your feet, the entire mass of Tobirama slamming into you like an ocean wave. He held you by the throat with one hand, the rest of his body pinning you against a nearby tree as all the air in your lungs was forced out by the impact. Your hands flew to his wrist. 

He held you there, immobilizing you in an instant. It was as though a bear pinned you down or a beastly forest tiger. Tobirama’s breaths were deep and steady. His piercing gaze bore deeply into you, leaving you no choice but to meet his eye. 

He was choking you, not with the intent to kill, but to establish dominance. The grip may not have comprised all of Tobirama’s strength, but it was enough to make your vision blur.

You squirmed, pulling at his grasp, but Tobirama didn’t budge. He held you close, with his nose almost touching yours. Tobirama’s arm bent at the elbow between you, impeding his chest from fully pushing onto yours. The bark of the wood dug into the skin of your back through your robes. 

His dense, woody scent was overwhelmingly masculine yet clean; something about it shot lightning through your heart. Aside from the burning in your lungs, it was the only other thing you could sense. 

“The only thing I am ashamed of is that I had not seen it sooner,” he gritted. 

His hand jerked in punctuation, shaking you by the neck, and it was only with this movement that Tobirama recoiled. Or perhaps it was the prolonged look into your eyes, dredging memories up from the past that Tobirma thought he had long forgotten. 

He let you go with an acute stumble back, which was hardly noticeable as he clenched his teeth hard. 

You coughed, crumpling down on the ground. A harsh wheeze tore from your throat as you bowed at Tobirama’s feet, trying to collect yourself. 

“Consider us even,” you managed to hiss, still at the ready to sling venom. You stared up at him from between strands of hair. Tears welled in your eyes. 

He hardly lingered on you, decisively turning to storm down the dirt path, brewing with stoic, cold heat.

You sat on the first ground, just on the trail’s edge. Your hands tremored, holding your neck and face as you reeled from what had just happened. You could hardly move, let alone pick yourself up.

“I hope that the mere memory of me shall haunt you until the day you are killed on the battlefield and beyond!” You cried out, strangled. And to your surprise, your curse came out with a laugh. Your tears had been held at bay for long enough, and they finally streamed down your face. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: So I was fully intending on wrapping this story up in the next 3 chapters... before this chapter. Ugh, because it didn't really make sense for them to be shy and want to reconnect now did it? I think people wanted more to the story anyway now that we're in the actually juicy part.

This series was supposed to be like 5 chapters you know.

Because the thing is is that I'm actually trying to make Tobirama a dynamic character because I didn't think he felt like a character at all up until now. If anything, I think I want to redeem the first half of this series because I hate it so much. I do it to myself at this point.

Oh and then I went back and actually read from chapter 7 on and AAAAA i need to FIX PLOT HOLES so...ooo... this series will be TEN MILLION CHAPTER LONG NOW SEE YA IN TEN YEARS

This story is officially "double enemies to lovers"

Next chapter dropping at 100 notes.

Tag list: @gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake @frvv

Chapter I Previous Chapter Part X (Current Chapter)

Full chapter list: Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

[undobutton]

so, i accidentally deleted a request from a dear anon. But! i remember that it was for Grim with an inexperienced reader having their first kiss! so I'll gladly write it for them. Sorry anon i hope you find this!

warnings: spoilers for Grim's name! terrible grammar and capitalization. possibly ooc grim

synopsis: Grim is more than happy to be your first kiss! you're his sunshine afterall

characters: Grimmy <3

a/n: sorry again anon, hope you like it!

when you tell him that you've never kissed anyone he will do extensive research.

because he's never kissed anyone either.

won't let you know that he's looking it up though.

so in the moment he kinda dissmisses it??

"you've never kissed anyone, Sunshine?" Casper asks, tilting his head at you. The two of you are in your room, sitting next to each other on the bed. The moon is high in the sky, making his white hair glow brighter than usual. (and he thinks you're the only radiant one 🙄) You've just explained your.. lack of experience to him, your face hot as you made your way through the confession. Casper nods his head gently. "that's not a problem... we can be affectionate in other ways" he suggests, casting his gaze to the closed window while scooting closer to you. pink dusting his cheeks. "though im surprised no ones gone after someone as..." he blushes harder "stunning as you."

after spending the next day on yihoo answers and watching a few videos (don't ask) Casper feels as though he's more than ready to be your first kiss!

when you come home from work, practically dragging yourself through the door. dropping your stuff on the floor and getting situated with little haste. Casper sits on your bed, blushing brightly and absentmindedly playing with your pet.

"had a good day, Grimmy?" you smile, joining him on your bed. already feeling better at the sight of his flustered face. "yes... [pet's name] and i have made a truce" he proclaims proudly, giving them an extra affectionate pat. (the two were fighting for your attention recently). You nod your approval and get cozy on the bed, blissfully unaware of Casper's internal panic as you cozy up to him for a nap.

This goes on for the rest of the day. By "this" i mean Casper being a little.. extra flustered by your affection. not that he minds! besides, you were gonna tease him all afternoon anyways.

now, it's well after dinner time and you're in bed waiting for Casper to be done with his skincare routine.* the headboard working together with a pillow to support your back as you skim your old diary. Giggling softly at a few of your entries. Because of this, Casper manages to 'sneak up' on you.

"hey... Sunshine," he says, walking into the room and getting under the covers next to you. "hi there pretty boy" you smirk, subtly hiding the book from him and placing it on the bedside table to give him your full attention. (that diary is full of teasing ammo you don't need him having) he blushes more than usual at the pet name, but rolls his eyes all the same.

"i did some.. research on kissing" he starts, playing with the hem of his pajama top. "

"oh? you researched it?" you ask, holding back a laugh. he looks at you with a slight pout.

"what? was my approach wrong again?" he huffs

"yes, and as always it's adorable." you smirk booping his nose. Capser pushes your finger away and flushes pink, looking at your plant and questioning everything that lead to this monent.

"well regardless, I did my research. and now i think i can give you a proper first kiss" he states, getting more embarrassed by the minute. reminding you of the flowers he'd gotten you and how adorable he was while handing them over.

"you really thought this through?" you ask, feeling your own face get hot as his words sunk in.

"yes, of course I did. I have a reputation as the best of the best y'know" he scoffs, getting his confidence back. "i had to make sure that my kissing skills would be unparalleled." you roll your eyes and bring your face down near his, grinning as his face gets redder by the seconds. "then lets see it. show me how well you-"

you're cut off by Casper gently sliding a hand against your cheek and gripping your neck softly. he's still blushing madly but there's a cockiness to it. "i will, when you stop talking." he says, kissing your cheek. you mumble out a response and play with the ends of his hair, waiting for him to finally kiss you.

after a few seconds (a few seconds too long in your opinion) he finally leans forward and brings your face to his.

the kiss is soft at first, almost hesitant. he's definitely a little scared of disappointing you. but due to that, it melts into something downright beautiful. his feelings for you surpass his fears and he kisses you with a passion that he seems to only save for petty banter between the two of you. it's amazing what you guys can accomplish when your mouths are being used for... other talents.

essentially, what im saying is that after the kiss, soul babies are most definitely back on the table. (much to Grim's dismay.)

-button 🌺

* if you also have a skincare routine, then you just finished yours earlier. and if you don't, then you were just waiting for him to finish up!

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

[vyorei]

Timestamp: 21:48pm on the 27th of November 2023.

Here is a recap of the latest developments

[the-meme-monarch]

thinking about swatch reluctantly "babysitting" scc post-weird-route. technically they don't need babysitting (as they are Teens thank you very much) but swatch won't not call it that because they are a little snob. something something "if only my men were here"  🤝 "just wish everyone else was here, too..."

i didn’t draw much of swatch and sweet interacting like I had wanted (including swatch calling it 'babysitting' and sweet being Offended at the notion. i kinda. lost the thread on this HDBSJS) but well as far as sweet is concerned queen and by extension her staff are still Their Enemies. they’re just having a temporary and uneasy truce based on the circumstances.

swatch and sweet’s outfits are based on tvlandofficiall’s post here !

if you ship scc go away

[essektheylyss]

We can presume, based on the fact that this is a story, that what the Hells are seeing in Aeor's surveillance footage is largely complete and true, at least to the extent of whatever particular story the audience is about to be told. In universe, they're viewing something externally recorded, not reading or hearing someone's account, and while it is unclear if it has been edited by either the Aeorians or Ludinus's tampering, we can take this complete arc largely at face value.

With that being said, I do actually think the conservation of this area of Aeor is worth noting and considering for what it suggests in the context of Exandria, in that this is essentially the control center for the entire floating city. It would probably have significant structural support, even more than the rest of the Genesis Ward. Even the fact that Dominox was only allowed some leeway to cause issues after the Solstice suggests that the engine room was very well-built to take a hit. This is the nucleus of the city, likely something of a black box as well, and the mechanisms by which it stayed flying. It stands to reason that if nothing else, this would remain intact.

Also, a lot of the reason that Aeor is as well-preserved as it is is that it crashed in the Arctic. Zemniaz, which came down in the fields named for it, has basically been overtaken by the civilization that succeeded it, and we can imagine that it was both picked clean by survivors and travelers and that its ruins were subject to significant environmental decay.

Though even in reality, discoveries of conserved archeological finds in the Arctic are significantly better preserved than most, some of Aeor's preservation of course goes beyond what would be expected for ruins of its ilk, which we can attribute to magic and, as mentioned earlier, suspension of disbelief.* But Aeor's overall preservation, state of structural collapse, and position as an in-universe source of significant technological rediscovery makes it very interesting as an exploration of digital preservation in a technologically-advanced society, and what might be dug up long after such a society is gone.**

In our society, where this kind of question is still very much open, there's plenty of discussion around digital decay, which we have of course seen. But our digital technology is so incredibly nascent in the grand scheme of things, and we simply do not yet have the timescale to say for sure what might remain a thousand years on; most of it will be gone, yes, but we have found remarkably well-preserved relics of many different kinds.*** So it's entirely possible that some of our digital footprint will remain.

This campaign overall has been a long discussion about what stories are told about history, and how are they preserved, and I think that there is a lot to be said about Aeor being the best-preserved record of the Age of Arcanum. We know that it was, even in the eyes of its peers and probably a good portion of its own populace, a monstrous example of the abuse of both magical and institutional power in that era. We know that it drew such divine ire that its downfall was the product of a brief truce in the most destructive war in living memory. We know that the discoveries that come out of it speak of blatant ethical and moral violations against other cultures, mortals, and nature itself.

These are things that have been conveyed in historical record, through the memories and histories of both FCG and FRIDA, and in the discussions within Avalir, one of Aeor's most powerful contemporaries and seemingly one of few other cities of the age that came close to the same level of advancement, which Aeor only seems to have surpassed via the aforementioned lack of ethical and moral qualms. What discoveries are made in Aeor already paint an incredibly skewed picture of the era, one that seems as though it would more likely inspire more apprehension about mages, arcane technology, and by extension, the cause that Ludinus wants to convey. The fact that Aeor placed significant intrinsic value upon the conservation of the product of extensive and long-running mass surveillance, to the point that it remains intact for us and the Hells to see now, only feeds further into the idea that, even when a discovery is seemingly complete****, we cannot ever know how representative the stories of the past actually were.

(Footnotes under the cut)

* Plenty has been written about time scales in fantasy, but in general this tends to be true of any dungeon crawling. In fact, it's probably a lot of the reason magic items are explicitly noted as being breakable only via other magic, and otherwise remain in good condition.

** I was going to have a fun quote to pull from the last chapter of Underland: A Deep Time Journey by Robert Macfarlane which is relevant to this discussion but unfortunately my mother has yet to give my copy back and it is on hold at the library so I am giving you all a summer reading assignment. Please go read this book right now. It is my number one nonfiction book of all time.

*** The oldest known intact shipwreck, aged somewhere over three millennia, was actually found recently.

**** For instance, based solely on fossilized bone, even a complete skeleton, it would never have become clear that dinosaurs had feathers!

[aethon-recs]

Tomarrymort Advanced Pack – 12 Longfic Recs

If you’ve made your way through the Tomarrymort Starter Pack and Intermediate Pack reads, here are 12 beautifully written, timeless fics that are Tomarrymort on hard mode for when you’re ready to dive into something that will really challenge your every reading muscle. This selection of fics features some of the most skilled writing I’ve come across in the entire fandom, and I love how these authors tackle incredibly complex subject matter and plotlines and characterization choices with such bold and unflinching perspectives.

Please mind all tags (including CCNTW, explained here) as you may find some themes within some of these fics difficult or challenging to read for a variety of reasons.

This is Part 3 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1 and Part 2). I hope you get as much enjoyment from reading these additional 3.1 million words of incredible Tomarrymort longfic as I have!

*

Tomarrymort Advanced Reads

ǟʟʍǟɢɛֆȶ by eldritcher (M, 134k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry and Dumbledore team up with Voldemort to save the magical world from a catastrophic threat. Why I rec it: Eldritcher delivers one of the most epic love stories of a lifetime — with Harry and Voldemort surviving a trip to the moon and back, and Harry’s love for Voldemort transcending time and space after Voldemort makes the ultimate sacrifice to save the world and, against all odds, return to Harry. The prose is absolutely transcendent — amongst the best I’ve encountered not only in fanfic, but in all of fiction I’ve ever read. I can’t say enough about how much I love Elditcher’s writing style and how beautifully the story unfolds — there’s a very nice lyrical rhythm underlying all the sentence structure and word choice in the fic that flows like nothing else I’ve read before.

Anabiosis by @itsevanffs (E, 32k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence Pre-Book 1 Premise: If Voldemort resurrects early and takes a teaching job at Harry’s primary school. Why I rec it: This is one of the best and most realistic and gutting depictions I’ve ever read of the quiet tragedy of Harry’s pre-Hogwarts years growing up experiencing severe neglect and an absence of love throughout his entire childhood. @itsevanffs did a magnificent job of capturing Harry’s limited POV and all the fluttering hope his still-trusting heart holds when he meets Mr Riddle, the first teacher who’s ever treated him with kindness. My heart ached so much for Harry throughout this fic, and the emotional arc in this story has continued to haunt me for a very long time afterwards.

Eight Days a Week by @vestiges-of-light (E, 802k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 7 Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry shortly after his sixth year, which leads to an unlikely truce and eventual partnership that ends up saving the magical world. Why I rec it: This fic combines a sprawling political epic with an incredibly extensive exploration of kink. The author asks a great question in the tags: "Why is only vanilla sex literary?" — and this fic does a fantastic job of proving that messy, filthy, raw sex scenes don’t have to be made sanitized or palatable for mainstream consumption in order to have just as much of a place in a plot-driven, serious longfic as vanilla sex does. Against the high-stakes backdrop of international political intrigue, there’s a very nice domesticity to Harry and Voldemort’s relationship, and how much they trust each other and can be stripped bare and vulnerable in front of each other is very poignant and touching to read about.

Embryo by @cannibalinc (NR, 28k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If mysterious new transfer student Harry appears in Tom’s sixth year in a state of near complete amnesia. Why I rec it: One of the defining character traits of Tom Riddle is that he’s an absolute genius — the most talented academic mind to ever walk through the doors of Hogwarts — and this fic absolutely delivers on that aspect. Told from Tom’s POV, this fic is like reading a complex multidisciplinary text spanning philosophy and physics and mathematics and magical theory, all interconnected by the mystery of how Harry appeared and where he came from and why he is so utterly forgettable to everyone but Tom.

found by @honbug (E, 112k, WIP)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Tom grows up in a world with no magic, but has had strange recurring dreams his whole life — dreams of a boy with green eyes and a scar, dreams of a dark graveyard and magical snakes and other mysterious things. Why I rec it: The character work done in this fic is absolutely breathtaking — one of the best character studies of Tom Riddle I’ve ever come across. This is a Tom who grew up without magic, but is no less cold and vicious and psychopathic and teetering on the edge of madness. The story arc follows Tom from his early childhood through his rise as a ruthless leader in an organized crime syndicate not unlike the Death Eaters — all the while that he’s haunted by dreams of Harry, his Harry, even as the dreams start to drive him to the brink of insanity.

how large the teeth by MaidenMotherCrone (E, 257k, complete)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry grows up as an outcast in a world where Grindelwald and Voldemort have already won long before he is born, but he’s still the subject of a prophecy that designates him as their world’s savior. Why I rec it: The worldbuilding is so exquisite and complex in this fic — the author did a spectacular job at completely reimagining the wizarding world from the ground up if the Dark Lord were to win a long time ago and how their extremely inequitable society would subsequently be structured. Harry’s defiance throughout is lovely, and his growing entanglement with Voldemort adds to all the high-stakes and risky moves that he makes throughout the fic. The plotline is very action-packed — a lot of complex plot threads are interwoven throughout the story, with an undercurrent of revolution and discontent simmering under the surface until it explodes in a glorious finale.

In Willing Sacrifice by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 1,197k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 4 Premise: If Harry finds Voldemort in Riddle Manor the summer before his fourth year, and enters into an unlikely alliance with him before returning to school that year. Why I rec it: This fic covers so much ground — at 1.2 million words (so far!), it’s the most detailed rewrite of canon starting from book 4 that I’ve ever come across, weaving in plenty of magical theory and political intrigue as Voldemort takes Harry under his protection initially in a mentor capacity. The relationship between Harry and Voldemort unfolds in such a beautiful way in this fic — with Harry growing to fall in love with Voldemort, despite all of Voldemort’s murderous and violent qualities, without losing an ounce of his humanity or the inherent goodness inside of his heart along the way.

Lover's Spit by @blogalinda, @k3uuu (E, 88k, WIP)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Harry and Tom grow up in a small town together in northern England, and Tom has harbored an obsession for Harry ever since primary school. Why I rec it: An absolutely stunning coming-of-age story set in modern times. This story is striking in so many different ways. It perfectly captures the voice of fringe internet communities in such an authentic way. It also poignantly captures the social isolation and erosion of privacy from living in a small town where gossip spreads like wildfire, and how the internet amplifies these dynamics. At the core of the story is a really sweet love story between Tom and Harry that I am literally obsessed with — every single one of their interactions is so tender and pure — and it’s such a startling contrast to how Tom’s internet persona is portrayed that makes the sweetness all the more heartfelt.

Mi Aedijekit by @kitastrophea (M, 282k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry is captured by Voldemort and placed under the Draught of Living Death, only to awaken in the far future where Voldemort has ruled over their world for over a thousand years. Why I rec it: A linguistic and sociological tour de force. When Harry wakes up from his magical coma over a thousand years into the future, the world has been entirely transformed, and the skill and effort that the author undertook in fleshing out a society where there’s been a thousand years of cultural change and evolution in language can’t be understated. One of the most unique and fun aspects of the story is learning the new vocabulary of the future alongside Harry for the first time. I love how the fic examines how even Voldemort gets bored with immortality after a millennia of ruling — and how, even with a thousand years separating them and memories of the earlier times scattered to the wind, Harry and Voldemort are still inextricably drawn together.

Of Kings, Of Pawns, and Of Men by @ambivalens999 (E, 129k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 5 Premise: If Voldemort ends up in Harry’s body and Harry ends up in Tom Riddle’s body after a bad encounter with the dementors at the beginning of book 5, and they can’t figure out how to swap back. Why I rec it: This is such an interesting take on the bodyswap trope, which is given a very serious and plotty treatment here. For fear of the safety of his friends, Harry has to go along with returning to his 5th year at Hogwarts in Tom Riddle’s body and being sorted into Slytherin house, while Tom passes himself off as Harry Potter. There’s a mystery behind the depth of Tom’s knowledge and familiarity with Harry, as he knows more about Harry than even Voldemort should. Is it the scar horcrux? Is it Voldemort? Is it something else entirely? The inherent combativeness and magnetism between Harry and Tom keep the tension high as they push each other’s buttons and circle around each other like wolves trying to establish dominance.

Phobia by @katsitting (E, 48k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry and brutally tortures him to the point of breaking. Why I rec it: This fic does not sugarcoat Voldemort’s capacity for cruelty and sadism in any way, and I admire the author’s commitment to depicting the most horrific of scenarios. Having read countless fics with this setup, I’ll be honest, the depiction in this fic is probably the most likely outcome of any Voldemort-captures-Harry scenario. They do not fall in love. It is not a fun time for Harry. There is gore; there is brutal prisoner torture; there is extremely extensive non-con. I found it very raw and unvarnished — not an easy read, but a very memorable and evocative one. And yet, despite the themes of darkness explored in this fic, it ends on a note of hope.

The Foul (part 1) / The Great (part 2) by @meles-merrivale (M, 24k, complete)

Setting: Time Travel Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time a thousand years into the past, and does whatever it takes to stay alive until he can meet up with Voldemort again. Why I rec it: This is a fantastic depiction of the slow descent into madness following a disastrous time travel accident and what a thousand years of immortality does to one’s sanity. It’s also a great exploration of the time travel paradox and whether anyone has the power to change the past, or if pivotal historical events are, by their very nature, predetermined. By the time Harry encounters Voldemort again, he is a shell of the person he used to be, but gradually, he finds more of his original humanity and spark for life the more his relationship with Voldemort progresses.

*

[sunshinereddie]

i need a college au where richie and eddie are captains of different clubs who have to share the same room space for their club meetings and so are always fighting bc of it. richie’s meeting goes until 5:30 and eddie’s is supposed to start at 5:30, but eddie always shows up at 5:20 anyways and tries to cut into richie’s meeting time which pisses richie off, so he purposefully takes goes slow during his meetings so that now it stretches out until 5:45 and cuts into eddie’s meeting time. whenever they meet with the school’s club organization, they are always fighting that they deserve the room more and that the other should have to find somewhere else/another time to hold their meeting, but of course the person who helps organize the clubs just tells them the same thing they say every time: “this is all that we can offer you, either you can keep it and figure out a way to make it work between yourselves, or your clubs can be temporarily disbanded.”

of course neither of them want to be disbanded, so they are forced to “work together” and eventually make a truce to stop cutting into each other’s meeting times because actually when they stopped to think about it, the time they spent arguing with each other about the fact that richie’s meeting ended at 5:32 instead of 5:30 probably took up more of their time than richie’s 2 minute meeting extension. it still doesn’t stop eddie from making a snarky comment of “oh, so you can read the time” whenever richie actually ends his meeting on time and it also doesn’t stop richie from making an equally snarky comment of “so do you come this early in all aspects of your life orrrr”

until one semester the news comes that another club has decided to take a break, so there’s actually a new room available during eddie’s meeting time! the club organizer offers this to eddie, thinking that he’s gonna be relieved at the news considering how many complaints the organization has received about richie tozier on the behalf of eddie kaspbrak, and yet……. eddie turns down the offer. because the truth is, ever since their truce, eddie has grown to realize that richie tozier isn’t all that bad. sure he’s obnoxious, but he can also be funny and kind when he wants to be, and sometimes after a long and difficult day, having a passing conversation with richie in between their club meetings is the best part of his day. the organizer would get the same response if they offered the new room to richie, too- who has also grown fond of eddie kaspbrak and feels a little rush pass through him whenever he successfully makes eddie laugh or blush with a joke.

they of course never stop bickering. but eventually it does get to a point where richie lets eddie come into the room a few minutes early and hang around at the back, where eddie will start his own meeting a few minutes late because he got caught up chatting with richie. it gets to a point where richie hangs around for an hour after his own meeting ends, so that he can meet up again with eddie after his meeting.

the members of richie’s and eddie’s respective clubs aren’t too sure exactly what happened between their two club captains, but they do know (and are thankful) that at least their meetings don’t start and end with a 15-minute-long argument between them about time management and respecting other people’s times (it was a little weird when that arguing was replaced with awkward flirting, but hey at least it’s not arguing).

[nishayuro]

How do you feel a little angst but fluff with both Stanely and Xeno. Both them and reader have been friends since childhood, before the petrification reader got really hurt or terminally ill. They don't revive them till after the truces with Senku, he tells them about the healing property of the revival fluid. They went to go find them who they place in a secure place, hoping to see the one other person they cared about. I'm a sucker of both of them, either loving them as a romantic parther (all three) or just love for a very close friend/family. :D

Dr Stone Being StanXeno’s Terminally Ill lover 

A/N: I am a sucker for this trope omg thank you for this. I reread the whole america arc to the end again just to remember the detailsss

Genre: Angst, Fluff

GN! Reader, Poly!Stanley x Xeno x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cancer

(Dr.Stone manga spoilers ahead, but y’all have probably read it by now if y’all know who stanxeno are)

Date posted: 07/09/2024

Pre-Petrification: 

You met Stanley and Xeno in your elementary school, you three got along well and started being inseparable. 

You three grew up together, always being with each other and being present in each other’s achievements.

Whenever Xeno competed in contests, you and Stanley were there to support him. Whenever Stanley had a game, you and Xeno would be there to cheer on him. Whenever you had any performances, contests, or whatever you did, Stanley and Xeno would be there to support and cheer on you. 

Fast forward to your teenage years when you realised that you fell in love with not just one, but both of your best friends. 

Having the two just balanced each other out, it was impossible to not fall for them both.

Stanley and Xeno realised their feelings for you and each other after you attempted to date another person in order to get over them. 

That relationship made the two jealous, feeling as though your new partner stole you from them. They had more time alone together and fell for each other as well, but you were still the missing one in the equation.

When your partner ended up being a douchebag, they finally decided to confess their love for you at the same time, also confessing to each other. 

You three became a throuple since then. 

You three all reached your dream careers together, with Stanley becoming a Marine commander, Xeno a NASA Scientist, you a Biologist.

You and Xeno would comfort each other whenever Stanley gets deployed on dangerous missions. 

You and Stanley would often plan dates for the three of you whenever Xeno got too busy in his projects.

One day, you noticed a few symptoms, but decided to ignore them because you thought it was nothing serious. 

It wasn’t until you passed out and Xeno checked on you to realise that something was wrong.

They went with you to the doctor, and when you found out that you had cancer, it was as if your whole world crashed. 

Stanley and Xeno were no better, Stanley asked to be exempted from deployment for a while. Xeno then began doing extensive research to help you. 

It got to the point where you were confined and basically lived in the hospital.

Stanley and Xeno were always there with you, giving you words of security. 

You knew how much this hurts for the both of them, seeing you losing your life to your illness.

The day of the DARPA expo, both of them were called into work, leaving you alone at the hospital. 

You noticed a green light from your window, and the next thing you realised was you couldn't move. You thought you died then and there, mentally saying sorry and goodbye to the two loves of your life before your consciousness faded.

Meanwhile at the expo, when Stanley saw the green light, he immediately ordered everyone to get low and to not let their minds fade. 

During the 3,700 years, the two men thought about you a lot, how you were, where you are, or if they’ll ever see you and the other ever again. 

“Xeno…Y/N, I hope you both are alright…” Stanley thought as he busied his mind to not fade. He doesn’t know how long it's been, nor how long until he will be free again. Ever since the green light, he’s been thinking of ways to potentially get freed from his paralysis. His mind would sometimes wander to you, his last memory of you was when he and Xeno visited a day before the expo. You were getting weaker, he didn’t know how long you had left. If only he knew that that day could potentially be the last time he saw you, he would have stayed for longer. 

“7, 8, 9, 10. Y/N, Stan… I’ll find a way to get out of here and save you both. Y/N, even if it’s been over centuries, if there’s a chance of you still being alive, I’ll do all I can to cure you.” Xeno thought as he counted the seconds. That’s all he did, count to keep track of time and think of how he could survive in what will be a new era when he gets out. He’s recalling every piece of information he’s even known, forcing himself to never forget any. With all of the research wiped out, the knowledge will only live in his mind until he can write them down again. He’s keen on remembering the research for your cure, that could be his last hope.

Post-Petrification:

When Xeno woke up from his petrification, he immediately did things to ensure his survival as he waited for the other people to get freed. 

When Stanley and the others woke up, they immediately built a base and gathered all the resources to survive, slowly building up the American colony. 

It took years for them to go from the stone tools to the upgrades that would help them live more comfortably. 

Each hunt for food and resources, Stanley would scour the statues, hoping to maybe find yours. 

One night, Stanley asked Xeno how they’ll go about finding your statue, or if your statue is even intact. 

That was one of the few times Stanley got vulnerable, the last time was when your cancer got worse. 

Xeno then pulled out a map of all the possible locations, taking into consideration where you were, how many years it's been, how the topography changed, and all of that.

It was at times like this when Stanley was glad to have Xeno’s scary intelligence.

When they successfully made vehicles and aircrafts, they sent out the squad to go look for you which was led by Stanley, they took a few weeks to retrieve you. 

“Alright, this is location no.10. Let’s go.” Stanley commanded, each of his people looked at each statue closely, looking for you. Stanley himself meticulously looked around for you, it was hard to remain calm when he was so desperate to find you. He was anxious, didn’t know what state he’d find you in, or if you could be revived.  “Commander! Take a look!” one of them shouted, alerting him. He rushed towards her and looked down at the hole. His eyes widened when he realised it really was you. “Y/N… we finally found you.” He spoke. 

He dug the dirt more to reveal that your statue was in pieces. His heart sank at the realisation that you can’t wake up on your own, that you were gone for good. He still decided to gather all pieces of you, in case Xeno would be able to magically heal you. He was silent the whole ride back to the base, his crew has never seen him this depressed. They knew him as a resilient commander who was afraid of almost nothing. When he got back, he brought your statue directly to Xeno.

“I’m back, I found Y/N.” Stanley stated, entering the lab. “Welcome back, how are they-” Xeno stopped as he saw the way Stanley looked, it was a negative look. “Their statue is in pieces… I… how will they revive…” Stanley sat, emotions pooling, tears threatening to leave his eyes. “I…” for once, Xeno was at a loss for words. His mind couldn’t think straight.  He expected this outcome, but a part of him hoped that a miracle could have happened and kept your stone body safe. Xeno went to hug Stanley as they sobbed together for the loss of their lover. They decided to keep your statue somewhere safe, arranged and put you back into your form. This was their last way of having something to remember you by. When days get tough, they’d visit your statue and just talk as if you were really still there.

When Senku and the Kingdom of Science fought against the American colony and kidnapped Xeno, Stanley was furious. He already lost you, he couldn’t afford to lose Xeno as well. 

The whole chase happened, and in order to defeat Stanley, they had to petrify the whole globe again. 

After the 7 years of Petrification, Suika was able to revive Senku who in turn revived the others and Xeno, forming a truce with him. 

When Senku told Xeno about the healing properties of the revival fluid, as well as how they revived a lot of the statues that Tsukasa smashed, Xeno was amazed. 

He realised that you had another chance at life. 

“Hello, sorry for the intrusion. Yuzuriha, correct?” Xeno walked into Yuzuriha’s tent where she was making cloth. “Oh, Xeno. Can I help you with anything?” Yuzuriha answered. “Yes, actually. Senku told me that you were able to piece back together smashed statues and were able to revive them, is that correct?” Xeno asked, eyeing the woman. “Oh, yes. I spent a lot of time glueing pieces back together before. Why is that?” She asked, curious as to where this is going. “I have a job for you, if you wouldn’t mind. Follow me.” Xeno said, leading the way with Yuzuriha following after. 

He brought her to where you were kept. He was glad to find out that nothing much changed in the 7 years that passed. “Oh, a broken statue?” Yuzuriha asked, kneeling down to inspect the pieces. They weren't as bad as the ones broken by Tsukasa, yours was much easier. “Yes, they were someone very special to both Stan and I.” Xeno answered, looking at your stone face. 

Yuzuriha looked back at Xeno and saw the soft gaze he held. “So, you want me to put them back together and get Senku to revive them?” She asked. “Just put back together for now. I think Stanley would like to be here when they get revived.” Xeno answered. “Ok, you can count on me, Xeno!” Yuzuriha cheered, running to get her supplies. It took her no less than 2 hours to get you all pieced back together. 

Xeno felt alone, despite having everyone around him, the two people he cherished were still in stone. He could revive you, but he’d want Stanley to witness it as well, he knew how much pain Stanley kept when he thought you were unrevivable. So he waited for an opportunity, maybe in the soon future, to negotiate Stanley’s revival and then yours. 

When the astronaut selection happened, they decided to revive Stanley. Bringing the idea to Xeno, his eyes widened and he turned around, not wanting the others to see his emotional state. “If we’re reviving Stanley, may I ask for another one to get revived?” Xeno asked after the agreement, to which Senku agreed after learning that it wasn’t someone harmful and it was someone who could be useful. 

When Stanley got revived, his only thought was that it was an important mission, and he was assigned to pilot the manned rocket. When that was set, he and Xeno were left alone. “Stan… let’s go see Y/N’s statue.” Xeno said, to which Stanley immediately agreed to. Part of him hoped that he’d see you in the flesh, but he was also scared to hope. When they got there, Stanley was surprised to see that your statue was intact and dressed, the lines the only evidence of the shatter. “That petrification device is one of a kind, you know. Its mysterious science is quite elegant. Who knew that the reason for humanity’s collapse can also be the cure we’ve looked for.” Xeno said, looking at you. 

“Wait… you mean…?” Stanley stuttered, eyes wide looking at Xeno. “See for yourself.” Xeno said, handing him a bottle which the other assumed to be revival fluid. Stanley slowly uncapped the bottle and poured the liquid over you. Soon enough, your stone cracked and revealed you, alive. “What… where am I… huh?” You spoke as you blinked, eyes getting used to the sudden light. “Y/N… you’re actually alive…” Stanley whispered, afraid that this was an illusion. “Stan…Xeno…” you muttered. Stanley immediately brought you into a hug, his emotions spilling out. He didn’t need to be stoic when it was only you three. 

“The petrification from the medusa has healing properties. Senku shared to me that it was able to revive one of their comrades after you had a run in with them. It also healed the injuries from the war.” Xeno shared, “what? What’s going on…?” you asked. “That’s a story to tell for later, what I’m trying to say is that due to the petrification’s healing properties, the cancer in your body is no more.” Xeno replied, shocking both Stanley and yourself. “Really?!” you exclaimed, getting up to hug Xeno. “I do feel more energised than before. That’s amazing!” You added.

They ended up bringing you to Xeno’s place, filling you in with what you’ve missed for the years you’ve been petrified, and what they’re up to now. You learned that Stanley was revived to be the pilot of the rocket, while that scared you, you had trust in Xeno and Stanley that they will make sure that this mission is successful.

“Everyone, this is Dr. L/N, one of the renowned biologists of the old world.” Xeno introduced you to the crew. “Great! We have a biologist to help out with the agricultural cultivation! I desire all the different kinds of plants!” The guy who’s name you learned was Ryusui shouted. You helped them cultivate crops and helped with the agriculture in the Kingdom. Partnering up with Francios and making the food more nutritious and more easy to obtain. 

It wasn’t a secret that Stanley, Xeno, and you had something going on, but it wasn’t announced either. The others would just see how the other two were so much more different when with you. You were the “light” of the three, making them trust the other two more. With you there, it feels as if the other two were tamer. That however was put to test when someone decided it would be a good idea to flirt with you despite your protest and obvious uncomfort. “Back off from our partner.” Stanley’s commanding voice boomed, “lest you want to become one of the testing dummies in an experiment I’m working on.” Xeno added. making the other person cower in fear, that was when they found out that you three were in fact official. 

When everything was settled and humanity was slowly rising back up and with the legal rules of old age gone, the three of you decided to get married and live as how you’ve wanted to in your old lives. You thought that your life back in the old days would end easily, with you succumbing to your illness and leaving behind your two lovers, but thanks to the phenomenon, you were able to restart and live a new life with the two loves of your life. 

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[torscrawls]

Pressurized

Happy Holiday Truce @ectospacecadet! This is my gift for you, based on the prompt “Sometimes all it takes is one bad day to break someone: Danny snaps.” Hope it tastes good!

You can also read it on AO3.

-

“Fenton! Get up that rope!”

Danny clutched his aching left arm tight to his side, cursing Skulker and his attack early this morning as he moved to do as Ms. Tetslaff had ordered. The wound throbbed and radiated pain up his whole arm as he grabbed the rope and started to haul himself up.

“Ha! Fenturd is too much of a wimp to get up that rope!” Dash laughed and was soon joined by the rest of the A-listers.

Danny grit his teeth and reminded himself that what Dash and the rest thought about him really didn’t matter in the big picture. He had more important things to worry about. Like how to keep his wound from opening back up while making it to the top of the rope. Maybe he could use a touch of flight to—

Suddenly the whole rope heaved beneath him, writhing like a snake come alive, and Danny lost his grip. Thankfully the fall wasn’t long, but it still hurt when he landed—of course—on his wounded left arm.

Danny groaned from where he lay on the mat and as soon as he opened his eyes he got a face full of a grinning Dash, leaning over him and looking proud of himself. He still held the rope Danny had been climbing in one hand. Of course he had been the one to mess with him. Danny couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised.

Danny turned his head to his side and saw Tetslaff on the other side of the room, not looking. Of course.

Dash laughed. “Wow, I didn’t know Fentoe was so weak he couldn’t even hold on to a rope!”

Danny reminded himself that Dash didn’t matter and that he didn’t care about what they thought, that he didn’t care about any of this. He didn’t.

Danny got to his feet, keeping his left arm close to his side. He felt a slow trickling of warmth run down the inside of his arm and really hoped his wound hadn’t opened back up. It would be just his luck.

Tucker jogged up next to him and sent him a concerned look. “Hey, you okay man?”

Danny took a deep breath, relaxed his clenched hands and let it out slowly before looking at Tucker and giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Considering Tucker’s grimace, he guessed he didn’t manage it, but his friend thankfully didn’t push the issue. And he was fine, this didn’t matter. It was just a slight annoyance. He would fix the wound after gym was over and then it would all be fine.

They were interrupted by Tetslaff suddenly deigning to look over towards them now that Dash had started climbing his own rope to the cheers of his friends. She frowned and immediately screamed, “Fenton! Foley! If you have time to just stand around talking, then you have time to run twenty laps! Get going!”

So Danny pushed down his pain and started running, Tucker by his side.

—-

After gym was over he waited until everyone else had finished changing out of their gym clothes before doing it himself, ignoring Dash and his lackeys continuous jabs and insults.

He didn’t feel like explaining his wound—which he was now certain he had reopened as the warm wetness on the inside of his arm hadn’t stopped and only gotten worse as time went on—and his extensive bruising. It would just raise a lot of questions. And probably even more insults, and even if Dash and the rest didn’t matter, Danny was too tired to deal with it right now.

He had to convince Tucker to go on ahead without him, “There’s no reason why we both have to be late. Besides, I don’t want them to start bullying you too.”

Apparently that hadn’t been as convincing as Danny had thought, but in the end he had managed to convince Tucker anyway and that was all that mattered.

As soon as the door closed and Danny was alone he let out a long sigh as his shoulders slumped. He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm with a grimace and then let out another sigh at the sight. Oh, he would definitely be late for the next class. He dug out his beat up first aid kit from the bottom of his bag and got to work.

Ten minutes later Danny carefully eased the door to the classroom open and quickly slunk inside. His hopes of sneaking inside unnoticed were dashed as Mr. Lancer fixed him with a glare and didn’t waste any time before chewing him out in front of the whole class. He could see Dash grinning and elbowing Kwan, Paulina leaning in to whisper to Star as they both pointed at him, Mikey and Nathan looking annoyed at the interruption and aiming their glares at Danny. Danny felt his shoulders climb up towards his ears. Great.

The whole spiel ended with Lancer declaring that he had detention after school and Danny barely found it in himself to give the teacher an affirmative before making his way to his school desk.

Well, no matter. Danny had only planned to get his homework done as soon as he got home, do his chores, and maybe actually go to bed early tonight. Maybe sleep off some of the exhaustion and pain dragging him down. Guess that wouldn’t happen. He didn’t know why he even tried anymore.

He sank down in his chair and Tucker immediately leaned in towards him and hissed out, “Man, your eyes are glowing.”

Danny closed his eyes in defeat. He tried to calm himself down, taking slow breaths and consciously relaxing his shoulders. The last thing he needed right now was any more attention.

After a few tense seconds he turned back to Tucker, one eyebrow raised in question.

Tucker gave him a slightly uncertain thumbs-up.

Danny felt himself relax slightly. Crisis averted, for now.

He just had to get through today.

Just like always.

—-

When he, Sam, and Tucker stepped into the cafeteria it was already full of students and Danny’s head throbbed at the noise. He really wished he had been able to grab more than a few minutes of sleep in between ghost fights, trying to avoid his parents, and all the traps they had set in the house.

Sam and Tucker walked towards the line for food and Danny stumbled after them. Tucker put a careful hand on Danny’s arm and Danny did his best not to jerk away from the pressure it put on his wound. Tucker still dropped his hand, a worried expression on his face, “Hey, man, you sure you’re alright?”

Danny nodded groggily, trying to muster up a smile. “I just didn’t get any sleep last night.”

Which wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth. He hadn’t gotten any sleep, but he had also been in two fights and one hunt spearheaded by his parents. Then his home had decided he was a threat and attacked him as well. And, oh right; he got woken up by an alarm in the middle of the night because the portal almost blew up because of some new tests his parents were doing. He didn’t even have time to eat breakfast. He looked down at the slop the lunch lady splattered across his plate and it was a testament to just how hungry he was that it actually looked appetizing.

He was doing great.

Thankfully, Sam and Tucker didn’t push it as they walked towards a free table. Danny did his best to follow along in their conversation, but he was too tired to make sense of their discussion about the math homework they had just gotten. Was it futile to hope that he would have enough energy and time to do it later tonight? Probably. Danny wished he had the capacity to feel bad about it.

He looked down at the food in his hands and allowed his thoughts to drift as he followed Sam and Tucker and their familiar voices. At least he would be able to sit down for a while with his friends and just breathe. And eat. Ancients, he was starving.

So of course that was when a foot suddenly appeared in front of his feet and despite his usually quick reflexes his tired brain reacted too late and he tripped, losing his hold on his tray and watching as it spilled absolutely everywhere. He had to use both his hands to catch himself against the floor to avoid smacking his head into it and groaned at the pain radiating up his left arm. Maybe the face would have been preferable to this.

He didn’t have time to get back up before Dash’s laughter rang in his ears.

Of course it was him.

“What’s this?! You can’t even walk correctly, Fentrip?!”

Danny pushed himself up on shaking arms and kept his eyes locked on the floor, ignoring the giggling he could hear from all around him. It was fine. Dash didn’t matter. This didn’t matter.

He blinked when a hand with back nails came into view before carefully grabbing his shoulders and helping him back up. Danny looked up to find Sam frowning at him. “Why do you let him push you around like this?”

Danny blinked at her. Yeah, why did he? His arm ached and he was so tired. If he just fought back once then Dash would know that he couldn’t just do whatever he wanted to him, they would all see just how—

Danny shrugged as he pushed the thoughts away. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He couldn't risk turning into him. Danny feigned nonchalance as he said, “He doesn’t matter.”

Sam frowned at him.

Danny shrugged her hand off.

“Ha! You need your little freak girlfriend to protect you, Whimpton?!”

Danny felt himself tense up. They could pick on him all they wanted, but he hated it when they picked on his friends. They didn’t deserve that. He felt the tension rush back, ensnare itself through his shoulders and his arms until he couldn’t help but ball up his fists.

Sam raised a hand again as if to touch him, but let it drop again without making contact. “…Danny?”

“Dude,” Tucker joined in, voice strained and eyes glancing around them, “calm down.”

“I am calm!” Danny gritted out.

Sam raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Danny forced his hands to relax. He bent down to pick up his spilled food.

“Come on,” said Sam, “let’s go eat.”

They walked away from the laughing table full of A-listers.

Danny looked down at his ruined lunch and couldn’t help but let out a petulant, “I’m not hungry.” If he said it, then maybe it would make it true. Where was Desiree when you needed her?

Both Tucker and Sam sent him pointed looks and Tucker said, “I know that’s a lie. I could hear your stomach rumbling the whole class.”

Danny felt embarrassed that he had been found out; he didn’t like to make his friends worry about him.

Tucker just smiled. “Come on, you can have some of mine. I have a couple of snacks in my bag. Besides, I ate a really big breakfast so I’m not that hungry.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just silently handed Danny an apple from her tray.

How had Danny been blessed with such nice friends?

Danny sank down on the bench to finally eat with his friends, but the moment his arms touched the table he felt a familiar feeling of cold claw itself up his throat. The taste of ozone and ectoplasm burst forth from his mouth and he looked at the small cloud in dismay. Danny groaned. “I have to go. There’s a ghost. Again.”

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look and Danny tensed up. He didn’t have the energy to argue with them right now.

Tucker began hesitantly, “Maybe you should leave it to someone else?”

“I can’t. You know that.”

Sam crossed her arms. “Then we’ll come with you.”

Danny looked at his two friends and their full trays of food, which they hadn’t had time to touch. He didn’t want to drag them down with him, he owed them that. So Danny made an effort to sound snappish as he said, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Tucker held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Hey man, we didn’t say that. We’re just worried about you.”

And now he had made his friends worry about him. Great. He couldn’t do anything right, could he?

He got to his feet. “I have to go.”

“Danny, wait!” Sam called out, but before they could start arguing with him again, he left.

——

Thankfully the fight didn’t take long, and Danny closed the thermos on the tiger-ghost just as the bell rang. It did leave him with scratch marks down his back though, and Danny cringed as he changed back into human form; praying that his quick healing would make sure it didn’t bleed through his clothes and thankful for the thick hoodie he had put on that day. He ran to his locker and got out his things, but was still late for the next class.

Lancer merely shook his head at him and Danny stumbled over to his desk and sank down in it while ignoring the worried looks from Sam and Tucker.

He was fine. It was all fine.

And even if it weren’t; it didn’t matter. He just needed to keep it together and do his job, keep everyone safe.

—-

The bell finally rang and Danny let out a stuttering breath. He was free.

He didn’t waste any time before stuffing all of his things into his bag and getting up, ignoring the pain in his arm and his back as he shouldered his backpack. It was worth it if he could get out of there quicker. Sam and Tucker joined him as he made for the door.

Tucker lowered his voice as he looked Danny over and carefully asked, “Danny? You okay?”

Danny kept his eyes on the door, feeling his steps lighten as he passed through it. “I’m fine.”

Sam pursed her lips and asked, “…Who was it?”

“A tiger ghost.”

He knew that they wanted more information than that, but he just wanted to go home and crash. He was so very tired and he hurt.

Tucker huffed. “Maybe you should leave the hunting to your parents for tod—”

“Mr. Fenton! Get back here, now!” Lancer’s call interrupted Tucker and made dread pool in Danny’s stomach. Right. Detention.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He’s fine.

Danny sucked in a shaking breath and stopped walking. He didn’t look at his friends as he said, “Well, see you guys tomorrow.”

Tucker let out a long sigh and sounded defeated as he said, “Please be care—”

Danny nodded and took a step towards the classroom and then he felt something collide with his back. Hard.

Immediately he was back fighting the tiger, its swiping claws on his back right in the same spot. The pain was immediate and intense, and Danny saw stars as he stumbled forward, falling to his knees.

His mind reeled. Was he still fighting? He wasn’t even transformed! He had to defend everyone!

He reached for the cold feeling in his chest, ready to tug on it and go ghost to—

Cheers erupted around him.

“Touchdown!” Dash crowed from above and Danny froze in place.

Right. He was in school. There was no ghost to fight. It was the A-listers. They didn’t matter.

For the third time that day he picked himself up off the floor.

His arm and back burned. The pain pulsed in time with his thrumming core.

Ghosts fought during stressful situations and right now his instincts were screaming at him to fight. To get them before they got him. Danny balled his hands into shaking fists.

He tried to force his heart and his core to slow down. It didn't work.

A part of him slipped, too tired to fight it anymore. They wanted a fight, right? Then he would give them one.

But then he registered movement beside him and he blinked. Right. Sam and Tucker were here, which meant that he couldn't fight right now. Not with them so close. He couldn't risk it. Risk them.

Danny pressed everything down down down.

Or, he tried to.

His breath clouded in front of his face, but it wasn't because of a ghost, but because of the sudden cold blanketing the hallway.

“…Danny?” Tucker said hesitantly from beside him. “Dude, calm down.”

“I am fucking calm!” Danny growled.

Sam looked at him with clear worry in her eyes. She leaned in and whispered, “Your eyes are glowing again.”

Danny covered his eyes with his hands. He tried to force them to return to normal, to force himself to calm down. It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter, he repeated in his mind.

Danny heaved in deep breaths.

“Ha!” Laughed Dash, “Are you going to cry?!”

Danny sucked in breath after breath. It didn’t matter.

He tried to force the tension down. Tried to stuff it all down. Down where it couldn’t hurt anyone.

It doesn’t matter.

He gritted his teeth.

It shouldn’t matter.

He was fine. They didn’t matter. He was fine.

…He didn’t feel fine. He ached and was so very tired. He hurt.

His arms fell down to his lap and before he could do more than open his eyes, Tucker was standing in front of him, shielding him from view and hissing out, “Your eyes, man!”

And Danny tried. He really did, tried to make them go back to normal, to look normal. So he wouldn’t upset anyone. So no one would notice. So he wouldn’t matter. Danny grabbed his hair in his shaking hands, winced at the pain radiating up his arm.

“What’s wrong with the freak?” Dash asked and before Danny could react there was a hand reaching for him. His mind screamed at him to get away, to make it all just stop.

“Man, don’t!” Tucker shouted out in warning and then Danny watched with wide eyes as his friend was showed aside by Kwan, making him stumble to the side.

Sam stepped in front of Danny and then got pushed into the wall by Dash as they all laughed.

Danny’s eyes jumped from the wince on Tucker’s face to the angry scowl on Sam’s. To the way she pushed away from the wall and grabbed her left shoulder that had collided with it, on how Tucker wasn’t able to hide the fear in his eyes as he looked at the people who had attacked him.

They had attacked his friends. Because of him. Danny had put them in danger.

After everything that had happened, after all the pain and exhaustion, he couldn’t even keep them safe. His core screamed.

Danny felt himself fracture, crack like a thin layer of ice beneath a boot.

Dash’s hand moved as if in slow-motion as it approached him and Danny viciously slapped it away. “Don’t touch me. And don’t. Touch. Them.”

Dash cradled his hand in stunned silence for a split second before he broke out into laughter again, elbowing Kwan in the side as he said, “Wow, would you look at that? The wimp is fighting back!”

Laughter.

Danny’s ears roared and his chest stuttered as he tried to get enough air into his lungs; to calm down. His eyesight narrowed into a thin point as he raised his shaking hands to grip the front of his shirt. There was a pressure on his chest. On his core. Building and building and building.

“Stop,” he managed to croak out. He didn’t know if it was a warning or a plea. His instincts were screaming, clamoring, demanding, that he fight.

“What are you going to do about it?! Cry on us?”

A rough hand crabbed Danny’s shoulder and his own hand snapped up to grab it as he hissed out, “You don’t matter! You’re fucking nothing!” None of them did. So what did it matter what he did to them?

“Danny!” Sam yelled out in warning. But she was still gripping her arm where she had collided with the wall and that as all he could see.

Danny managed to let go of the hand in his grip, but he couldn’t calm down.

Maybe he didn’t want to.

“Hey…” Dash trailed off. “What’s wrong with his eyes?”

Tucker took a step closer to Danny. “Danny, you have to calm down!”

“Why?!” Why did he always have to calm down?!

He hurt.

“Danny!” He couldn’t even tell who was speaking anymore. It didn’t matter.

The air was cold enough to sting his throat and he breathed it in in in in.

He couldn't breathe out. He couldn't—

“What the fuck?!”

“Shit!”

“Get back!”

He smelled ectoplasm. The cold snow.

He smelled sour mouthwatering fear.

Danny recoiled with nausea climbing up his throat. He shouldn’t like that. He shouldn’t be that ghostly. He had to control himself. Just get himself back under control and calm down and—

And he couldn't. He couldn't.

His heaving breaths stopped when he realized that he didn’t need them.

In the end, he was just like any other ghost wasn't he?

The cold spread through him, out of him, and Danny didn’t even try to stop it.

They didn’t matter.

And he h̵̪̗͊u̴̯͒r̴͍͈̈̇t̸̮̺͈́.