#Unfinished fic

[summervale]

「Merriment」

Third-person reader insert! Y/N is the younger sister of King Robert Baratheon. Her house sigil is a stag, yes, but it seems she has a particular fondness for hounds.

Contains: Reluctant pining, kissing, mature situations Words:  2,311

UNFINISHED WORK: This was supposed to be a long, multi-part piece which is why it takes so long setting up! This was part one and is about halfway finished. Figured there's a lot of Sandor fans that might enjoy a small something cute <3

No husband and no responsibilities made for a very happy woman indeed. Small wonder she was all smiles and riddles and gayeties; she must, the commonfolk thought, be the happiest woman in all the seven kingdoms.

This was likely true.

She was forever laughing. There was a smile on her face always, it seemed, and everywhere she went she took merriment with her. Her ladyship took great pleasure in riddles and games and shows of mummers and fools, and King’s Landing had not hosted a tourney that did not have her there in the pavilions in many a year. She was a friend to all regardless of birth or station or reputation (within reason), and for this she was quite loved, but also quite resented. The resentment was paid little mind—turning a blind eye and smiling was much more fun, as it was often irksome to those who were loth to favor her.

Y/N Baratheon. Lady of Storm’s End, younger sister to Stannis and Robert, older sister to Renly. She possessed the same appetite for amity as Robert coupled with the mirth and grandeur of Renly. Of Stannis, it was said, they shared only a name. Still she insisted she adored all her brothers equally, “even the gloomy one.”

Much was afoot in King’s Landing.

King Robert had named Lord Eddard Stark new hand of the king, and Stark had arrived with a host of his own and his two daughters in tow. This was cause for celebration, and celebration was cause for a tourney, and where there was a tourney (or a celebration), Lady Y/N was to be found.

And she was found in King’s Landing quite a lot, of recent.

There was a rumor, often dubbed a vicious and untrue one, that though her house sigil may be the King's own stag, Y/N had a particular fondness for hounds.

The sun was two hours from setting when a host of black and yellow arrived at The King's Gate. In came banners that bore stags, and a spate of wagons bringing wines and cheeses and polished pears from Storm’s End. An impatient rider rode ahead of the rest, leaving behind a cry of protest as she thundered away, alone, up the streets of King’s Landing.

She arrived with a well-lathered horse and a swirl of her cloak. A party had time to gather in the yard of the Red Keep; a paltry welcoming committee with little time to prepare.

But the King was there—of course the King was there.

Had she not already been grinning, she would have grinned. “There’s my favorite brother,” said Y/N, dismounting and already forgetting her palfrey.

The look on Robert’s face was strange, though, and uncharacteristic of the Robert she knew and loved. The years had not been kind to him (as was made most evident by his growing waistline), and his face was stern, drawn into a scowl, his brow furrowed.

Is he not happy to see me? she thought even through her smiles and excitement. Gods, he looks as grim as Stannis, maybe twice as much. When she made to throw her arms about his neck, he took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length instead.

“That’s your grace to you, woman. I am the King, or have you forgotten?”

The King’s sister opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, which was done dumbly and not unlike a fish.

The ruse was short-lived.

Robert Baratheon—King Robert Baratheon—broke into a roar of laughter like that of a bear made human. Still holding his dearest sister by the shoulders, he gave her a hearty shake. “Your face!” he boomed. “You should have seen it!”

Her smile returned, then her laughter. “You’re a fool if ever there was one, Robert!”  She threw her arms around his neck even as he shook her, and the big king lifted his little sister in his arms and hugged her so tightly, so fiercely, that the now-arriving party feared the king may crush their lady.

Robert didn’t crush Y/N, though. No, they were both used to it. “You’re crushing me, Robert,” she huffed at last, prompting the king to drop her back down onto the ground.

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Right then, let’s get inside. We have much and more to catch up on, and there’s a flagon of wine calling my name.”

“Every flagon of wine calls your name, your grace.”

The King was laughing again, then, and the King’s sister was smiling.

That, as far as the two Baratheons were concerned, was the way it always had been, and the way it always would be, until one buried the other.

Meeting the King’s party was a grand ordeal, though Y/N had already met most of the partygoers in attendance on at least one occasion. Of course she knew the Lannisters, her brother’s family by law, and she’d met Lord Eddard Stark once before. Lord Eddard’s daughters were new to her, however, and a few of the faces at court as well. Having been taught well, she recognized most of the family names and colors, smiling and shaking hands and doing all the formalities a lady should do.

The occupants of the Red Keep’s great hall that night came from houses big and small, known and unknown, and saw the attendance of lords and ladies, knights, hedge knights, bards, poets and singers, fools in their motley and mummers with their painted faces. There were cards being shuffled and dice being thrown. Serving girls brought plate after plate of selections from the kitchens: stuffed capons, wine-glazed lamb, honeyed figs, dark breads with thick crusts, sweet lemon cakes still-warm from the ovens. The courses seemed never-ending and the wine never stopped flowing.

“Never was there such a party before, brother,” declared Y/N. She lifted a gilded goblet with a flourish, and rich, purple wine splashed over the rim and down her hand. She was the picture of effortless joy.

And she knew it, too.

If she hadn’t known it, the guests would have reminded her; the way they flocked to her in throngs and yammered on and on whenever she should happen to lend an ear—which was often. Round and round she circled the crowd as the evening wore on and the wine continued to flow, searching the room for a familiar face—a face that would stand out even in the most crowded of rooms.

Her gaze passed the lords and ladies, passed the knights in their polished armor, until at last she found her mark.

Sandor Clegane, the Hound, stood near the far wall, obscured halfway in the shadows. His face was grim, as it usually was, pulled tightly into a scowl that had long since worn its lines permanently into his features. The burn scars that marred half his face were highlighted by the flickering torchlight, giving him an even more fearsome appearance.

She knew Sandor was not like the other knights, not like the men who fawned over ladies with flowery words and grand gestures. He was rough, blunt, and often downright rude.

He was the perfect change of pace.

Oft she sought him when at last she could take the rinse-and-repeat of perfumed nobility no longer. She wove through the crowd with ease, exchanging smiles and nods as she passed, until she finally stood before Sandor.

"Sandor," she greeted him plainly. “It’s been too long.”

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. For an overly long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a grunt, he inclined his head slightly. "My lady," he replied, his voice as rough as the gravel on the King’s Road.

Y/N smiled up at him, unfazed by his gruffness. "Why do you stand here all alone?" she asked, her tone teasing. "Surely even hounds deserve a bit of merriment."

Sandor huffed, a sound that could have been a laugh if it had come from anyone else. "Merriment’s for fools," he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“Forgive me, then, for it seems I’ve forgotten my motley.”

“So it seems.”

She knew he was not a man of many words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But she also knew that, for reasons she could not fully explain, she had become someone he tolerated more than most.

Perhaps it was a royal decree by Robert unbeknownst to her. And what a royal decree that would be! The thought made her laugh aloud, which only earned her a raised eyebrow in response.

He indicated the floor from which she’d just come. "Motely or not, you should jingle along with the other fools,” he said, though his tone was less stern than usual.

"And you should be out there with your fellow dogs," said she, “but here we are."

Sandor's lips twitched as if they might have remembered how to smile for half a moment. “Surprised you’re not dancing again. It went well for you last time.”

With one sentence he had broken the façade she wore so well. Her look of smug mirth disappeared from her face in an instant and was replaced instead by one of flustered surprise.

It had been a celebration much like this one and she was deep in her cups by the time the sun had set and the dancing had begun. Y/N had been at the heart of it, twirling and dancing with little care, passing hand from one lord to another, from knight to knight, breathless and flushed and shoes long forgotten.

The next thing she knew, she was stumbling, and a moment later, toppling entirely. The ground rose up to meet her with an unpleasant wack!, and the pain in her cheek was overshadowed only by a pain in her ankle. She’d gotten too carried away and twisted something, it seemed, and hadn’t even felt it until she was picking herself back up off the ground.

Or, well, trying to pick herself back up off the ground. The usual cloud of courtiers buzzed around her in an attempt to see her upright again, but the pain in her ankle swelled red hot and angry.

A shadow passed, then, and she had looked up, her vision slightly blurred from the wine, to see Sandor Clegane’s gruff face above her. There had been no mocking grin or cold stare, just a look that might have been concern on a more expressive man. “You’re alright.”

Without another word, he had scooped her up in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all.

Y/N had gasped, her hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders. "I can walk!" she had protested, though she hadn’t made any real effort to leave his arms.

 "Not on that ankle you can’t.”

And so she had let him carry her, through the bustling hall and up the winding stairs of the Red Keep, all the way to her chambers. It had been awkward, but it had also been…

More.

“You’re quite strong,” she said to him, which earned only a grunt of acknowledgement.

Something—something—fluttered inside of her when she saw him so close; the burned skin unevenly healed, the scruff that dusted his face, the muscle of his neck that disappeared beneath his armor where her prying eyes could not follow—but her imagination could. 

When they reached her chambers, he had set her down gently on the edge of her bed. She had looked up at him, her heart pounding in a way that had little to do with the wine. As he made to release her, she caught the back of his neck with her hand and held him there, inches from her face.

She’d expected him to break free, to pull away, to do anything else. But he stayed.

He stayed there like that, his lips inches from hers.

He had hesitated, his expression torn between wanting to leave and the pull of something deeper that they both felt there between them. They both smelled of wine and honeyed mead, lips sweet.

She didn’t know who kissed who, but in half a heartbeat they were entangled.

Sandor’s breath came ragged against her mouth. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She bit his lip and he growled. It was fast, animal, raw want.

And a longtime coming.

When he pulled away, she pulled him back in again, and he didn’t fight her. Breathless, she’d pulled herself up by his shoulders and onto her knees, the pain in her ankle unfelt and forgotten. Her hands cupped his face and she pulled him in, in, in, until her chest was flush with his and she could feel every rise and fall of his on hers.

At last he’d taken her by the elbows and pushed her away, and it ended as suddenly as it had started.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he told her.

“But I haven’t had enough of you.”

“You’ve had your fill of that, too,” he said, turning cloak and leaving.

“I’m quite certain I haven’t had my fill of you.”

He paused mid-step and looked at her over his shoulder. “You don’t want that,” he assured her. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something sharp as steel and burning hot.

Y/N leaned back on the bed. “I know what I want,” she said, wishing she could stand and go to him, to pull him by his cloak and his armor and whatever else she could get her hands on—something lower than his beltline. “I’ve known for years and years.”

Slowly, deliberately, Sandor crossed the room again, silhouetted against the warm torchlight that poured in through the still-open door. “Trust me,” he said, towering over her, leaning in close. “You might want to get your fill of me, but you don’t want me to get my fill of you.”

Her breath left her body in a shuddering shiver.

Again he had turned, then, and didn’t stop to look back at her that time.

[feelingthedisaster]

i love uncompleted fics

i love the hype for the new chapter, i love getting the notification of "x updated", i love the little chaos of finishing all my bussiness to make time to read it, i love the author telling us the readers little stuff about their lives in the notes (congratulations with graduation! a break up isnt the end of the world! what do you mean you went to jail????), i love theorizing about the future chapters, i love all the memes about the fic posted on parallel in author's tumblr while we wait for the next chapter, i love commenting theories or ideas and then the authors responds with that emoji or a "oh, you'll see" or "honestly, i have no idea what will happen", i love starting the freshly posted chapter, i love that bittersweet feeling of finishing it and realizing you dont know what will happen and wont know for a while but well, the author is probably suffering about that too

i love you wips, i love you writers of wips, dont allow all that hate to get to you, your fics are 100% worthy the time even if they arent finished, even if they are never finished

[greeniegaes]

Was looking through my various SVSSS docs and found like. 1k of trans SQQ being angry about periods.

So here’s that, unfinished and unrefined

When Shen Yuan originally woke up in the body of Shen Qingqiu the only thing on his mind was the terrible death he would end up suffering.

This only ended up with him moping for a week before being poked and prodded at by Mu Qingfan, the doctor trying to discern what was wrong with him. Yue Qingyuan was anxiously awaiting his prognosis nearby.

So, Shen Yuan decided there was more important things to do than moping.

He observed the conditions of his peak, fixing the hierarchy problems between his disciples, making sure all lesson plans and materials were properly set up for the hall masters. There was so much to acclimate to within the first month of his possession of his new body.

And his new body was different too. When he first woke up in his barely lucid state all he could remember was pain. Now that was most likely due to the fever and qi deviation he had. But the pain and the confusion had totally let a few things slip.

It wasn’t a sort of “oh where am I, what unusual world is this?” sort of slip. Shen Yuan was an avid novel reader, he had more respect for himself then to be confused when isekai’d. No, it was a very different kind of confusion.

He’d barely been a few sentences into his new life, barely able to sit up and hold his fan when he realized the very major change from this current life to his past one.

He didn’t have a dick.

Luckily the only person there to see the confusion of his lack of a -in his opinion key- body part was Yue Qingyuan.

“You.” The newly transmigrated Shen Qingqiu glared at the man sitting on his bed, his brain only half screwed on. “Why don’t I have a dick?”

The man across from him sighed, looking at Shen Qingqiu with a pitying expression. There was a tense discussion consisting of “I know you’re a man, don’t worry, Shidi…” and “you’ll be able to change your body when we reach higher cultivation” but it had all flown way above Shen Yuan’s head.

Shen Qingqiu’s body was originally born female?!? But he dressed like a man! Now, Shen Yuan had no problem with such a thing, several people accused him of being an egg and he had met quite a few trans people, but why? Why was Shen Qingqiu trans when there was no mention of it in the story. Such a detail had no purpose and Shen Yuan wanted his dick back!

Alas, no matter how much he questioned it he could only endure it. So Shen Qingqiu went on with his life, a little adjustment here and there but everything was mostly peaceful for a month

A. Single. Month.

Now Shen Yuan wasn’t the type of guy that didn’t think periods hurt. His darling mei-mei wouldn’t have allowed that at all. But this was worse than he thought. It felt like someone had a knife to his gut and would be twisting it all day. Honestly he was ready to keel over and die.

But alas, his life went on. He stayed standing through the lessons, making sure to be very careful not to snap at his disciples. It was hard to do that though. So many questions were asked, and he almost felt like the original Shen Qingqiu was an awful teacher because honestly how many things did he never explain.

The second day of it was worse though. He was half way through getting ready, a bit uncomfortable but overall okay, when suddenly it felt like he was hit by a truck. He could have isekai’d right there and started a new life from how much pain he was in.

This led him to hiding out in his bamboo house, laying on the ground.

Which led into a whole bigger mess.

Ming Fan had suddenly entered his house to ask about something or other, saw him lying face down on his flooring, and promptly went screaming for Mu Qingfang.

Which was not how Shen Qingqiu wanted his day to go. The man pushed himself up, hurriedly getting ready so that he wouldn’t look like he was moping about again. After long enough to get dress and slip calmly into his bed with a novel in hand Mu Qingfang shot into his room.

Shen Qingqiu was impressed the doctor could move so fast, he didn’t expect it.

“Mu-Shidi.” He greeted calmly, watching as a few of his disciples, perhaps a hall master or two and a few of the peak lords- including the leader- shuffling in or around the room. “I understand you may be concerned over things, but is such a stampede necessary?”

The doctor looked at him, grabbing his wrist which caused him to drop the book. There was the familiar feeling of qi channeling through him, checking out what was wrong. “Everything seems to be normal, I was told you had collapsed?” Ming Fan was off to the side, nodding his head up and down; tears were threatening to fall in his eyes.

It seems within the short time period of him taking over Shen Qingqiu’s body his disciples had become quite sticky.

“Nonsense, I’ve been okay in my room the whole time.” A few of the people looked around, trying to gauge the truthfulness of his statement.

Mu Qingfang frowned, focusing more on his qi trying to assess what was wrong. The sudden cool feeling traveling up his body made him want to retch, cringing of his arm in the man’s hand. Shen Qingqiu snatched his hand away, grabbing a nearby fan to weild.

“We are done with this, everyone get out!” He had tried not to snap at people for the month, but honestly he was at his wits end. He had ignored the constant fretting, the way his students huddled around him, the side eyes the other fellow peak lords made him. He didn’t want to deal with it anymore at this point

[unhingedsquash]

which unfinished fic should I work on based off the last line i wrote before i stopped

This was definitely weird. After the strained cases he and Prosecutor Gavin had gone head to head on, the last thing he expected was persistent requests to get dinner.

Tamaki made a small cheer that sounded close to a whoopie!, but also like a French word he wasn’t familiar with, and Kyoya couldn’t help but chuckle as he stood up and followed the blonde, who was excitedly leading his spectacled friend through his home.

And then punched him in the arm as hard as she could. / “Ow! What the hell?!” / “Alright! Let’s get moving!”

Phoenix smiled fondly, his head lulling to the side to face Edgeworth. “This was very sweet of you. I can’t thank you enough,” he said.

And Joe offered her the biggest, dumbest, happiest grin. It was a cheap arcade keychain, but he felt like it was worth the entire planet. Because Sara Chidouin gave it to him!

[take-taker-taken]

hi hi!! could you do a femreader x ministry taker forbidden romance type thing? something like our kingdoms are rivals/taker is rivals with our father, but we ended up falling for taker and find ways to meet with him. would be awesome if you could include smut! thank you 💓

Hellooooooo, lovely Anon! I’ve dipped in and out of this one ever since you sent it to me, as I don’t think I can do it as a one shot, so here is Chapter One. I have no idea what to call it as a title overall - if anyone has any thoughts on that, please feel free to drop them into the comments.

Awaiting Title

Chapter One - An Unexpected Visitor

You stare out of your bedroom window at the approaching carriage, pulled by a team of four majestic black horses, complete with purple bridles and deep, plum coloured plumes. The coachman pulls the horses to a prancing, neighing halt and you draw back away from the glass as a giant of a man emerges from the vehicle.

He pauses and looks up at the house, a severe expression on his face and you gasp and freeze when he’s suddenly looking right at you. His countenance seems to soften and you could swear you saw the corner of his mouth pull up into the tiniest hint of a smile. You’re completely bewitched as your eyes lock with his, but the spell is broken when he looks away and then you hear a loud knocking at the front door.

There’s a short silence and then some scuffling that you can make out even through your closed door and feeling slightly panicked you rush to open it, only to be faced with your elder brother.

“Get back inside,” he hisses urgently. “This doesn’t concern you!”

“What’s happening?” You ask, matching the whispered pitch of his voice. “Who is that man? What does he want?”

“I told you, it’s none of your concern - now stay there and keep quiet!” With that he pulls the door closed and must be holding it shut because you’re unable to shift it an inch. About ten minutes later you hear the front door bang closed and so you rush back to the window to see the giant striding back to the open door of his carriage. Your nose is all but pressed against the glass when he turns around and looks back up at you. He pauses and then turns around fully and then… he points at you. He’s mouthing some words that you can’t make out but you find yourself nodding and then he turns away, climbs into the carriage and the coach is leaving up the drive in a cloud of dust.

Who was he?

~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s raining… you can hear it against your window when it pulls you from sleep. You lay there with your eyes closed, listening, and then gradually come to realise that the sound isn’t regular. Intrigued, you slip silently from your bed and cross over to the window where you draw back the curtain just as the noise comes again. The crumbs of soil from the flowerbed below bounce off the glass and then you see him stood on the driveway. The gaslight on its tall pole behind him sets him into shadow but there’s no doubt that it’s the man who visited earlier in the day. Your eyes have grown accustomed to the dark now and you can make out some of his features but you don’t have time to contemplate as he raises a hand and beckons to you with a single finger.

You turn away and almost without thinking take your robe from the back of the door and then very quietly turn the handle and step out on to the landing. Taking great pains to make as little noise as possible, you make your way down the staircase and then you’re carefully drawing back the bolts on the heavy front door and turning the key. You pull the door open and peek around it as clearly there’s still a shred of sanity within you. He doesn’t advance and so you leave the safety of the house and walk towards him. You stop about six feet away and take in the sight before you. Your brain hadn’t exaggerated earlier - he really is a giant and if you stood next to him you doubt you would come up to his shoulder.

“I had to see you again.” He says, his voice a deep rumble. “When I noticed you at the window earlier today I was captivated - it nearly made me turn away from my business with your father.”

He’s dressed all in black with a heavy cloak around his shoulders, and he has long hair that is pulled back into a neat braid. The thought flits through your brain that it’s dreadfully odd for a man to have long hair… then you realise what he’s said and so you reply, “What is your business with my father?”

The man gives you an inscrutable look and then says, “He has some land that I would like to purchase but at the moment he’s… not very receptive to the idea.”

You pull your robe around you as a breeze whispers through and flutters the leaves on the trees and bushes.

“Forgive me - I know the way I’ve gone about this is far from ideal.” He says and removes his cloak with a small flourish. He takes a couple of steps that bring him startlingly close and swoops the heavy wool around your shoulders whereupon it trails on the ground.

“I’m sure if you approached my father, he would permit a more traditional meeting.” You volunteer as you smile up at him, but he shrugs with one huge shoulder.

“I fear not - our interaction was not particularly amicable. But I simply had to see you up close.”

“Where’s your carriage, sir? Or did you make your way here on foot?” As you stare at his chest, you’re dimly aware that all this small talk is quite ridiculous given the situation but what else can you say?

The corner of his mouth twitches in a tiny smile and he half-gestures behind him. “I left it out towards the road; nobody will happen upon it.”

You breathe in the scent of incense that hangs around the fabric of the cloak he’s wrapped you in. “What happens now?”

He reaches out and gently touches your hair and you feel as though you’re under a spell. Stood here in the cool night air in your nightclothes, with a stranger, wearing his cloak. Everything about it is wrong and yet you feel so at peace.

“I will return in two days, at noon; that’s the deadline that I gave to your father. Will you meet me at the road at half past eleven?”

You’re nodding ‘yes’ even as you frown and say, “Why have you given him a deadline?”

He doesn’t answer, but takes your hand and raises it to his lips, kissing it softly and you’re sure you can feel the skin tingling where his mouth touches. He gently turns you back around and ushers you towards the still ajar door, slipping his cloak from your shoulders. “Today is Tuesday. Come meet me at the road on Thursday and we can talk before I visit with your father.”

You move through the door and then quickly turn back, but he’s already striding away from the house and you know that you can’t call out. You quietly push the door closed and lock it up again before creeping back up the stairs to your room. You go straight to the window in case you can catch a glimpse of him but the darkness reigns and you can’t make out much at all. Still slightly chilled from the outdoors, you climb back into bed still with your robe on and turn on to your side. You close your eyes and bring the hand that he kissed up to your face and drop back off to sleep with your lips resting close to where his brushed your skin.

TBC

[hothotpot]

I was digging through my notes app the other day and came upon this little snippet of a thing I wrote. Like the other little bit, it was meant for a Disco Elysium fic that I'm not sure I'll ever properly write, but I like it so much it feels unfair to keep it all to myself.

The fic had no real plot, and was really just a series of scenes of Harry and Kim flirting and eventually getting together, because I am a soft idiot. This would have been the end of the fic, so uh, spoilers I guess lol

Anyway, stupid Harry/Kim fluff below the cut!

"So are you my boyfriend now?"

Kim can't quite bite back the laugh that huffs out. "We're not teenagers, detective."

"But I don't think I've ever had a boyfriend before, Kim. I want you to be mine."

His plea is so plaintive and genuine, Kim can't help but be moved, however slightly. "Fine," sarcasm laces his tone as he answers, "we can be boyfriends. You can pass me notes between Civics and Maths, hm?"

The grin that breaks out across Harry's face sends an altogether unreasonable surge of warmth thrumming through Kim's chest. "Will you write back?"

"No, I will not. Unlike you, I take my studies very seriously."

But I will keep every single note you give me in a box beneath my bed, safe where only I can find them, and take them out and read and read and read them again and again, as often as I like - the thought runs through Kim's head completely of its own accord, accompanied by a mortifying burst of sentimentality, and he feels an insane sense of relief that it is only the tips of his ears glowing and not his lungs.

The relief evaporates, though, as Harry fixes his intense green eyes on his own, and the absurd thought that Harry has heard the thought occurs to him. It's impossible, of course, but then Harry raises his hand and cups Kim's jaw with a reverence that sets his pulse hammering in his ears, and Kim is certain that it's true.

"I think I love you, Kim." A breathless exhalation, wondering and amazed.

Kim laughs, and thank the Innocence Harry doesn't flinch.

"Shut up, Harry." The words are amused and fond, tempered with what, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, Kim does not dare admit the truth of.

But Harry just grins and pulls him into a kiss, lips soft and warm, mustache tickling his nose. Kim lets him, but only briefly, then pulls away and bats gently at the detective's shoulder.

"Go to sleep, lieutenant, it's late."

Harry lets Kim move away just long enough to set his glasses carefully in their place on the nightstand and switch off the light, before dragging him back to him with a strength that leaves Kim a little breathless, thick arms encircling slim waist and holding close. Warmth breathed against sensitive skin as Harry nuzzles into Kim's neck, lips grazing, and then a murmured "Good night, Kim."

"Good night, Harry."

[luckykittens198]

Honestly, DCMK fandom is so old, that I remember this 1 unfinished fic that hasn't been updated since 2012.

Title: Fallout by Silversage

Location: ffn

Synopsis: A post "Raven Chaser" story. Because "The Raven Chaser" opened many doors…and Kaito worries. Animeverse/Movieverse.

I don't really remember about the story, but I remember the main plotline is Gosho boys got together to handle the Black org, and in the last updated chapter has them on the run.

Again, it's been years since I last read it, but I remember it was agreat fic

Another recomended fic is 'The Case' series by Mirror and Image. Again, it's one of the older fic in ffn.

1. The Case of Hidden Epidemic

Conan has stumbled across a mystery. This time the victims are much closer: the students of his elementary school. With Genta and Ayumi hospitalized, Conan will need to solve this case quickly. But then Ran gets hospitalized.

2. The Magic Bullet Murder Case

As always Conan stumbles across another body; and this time the prime suspect is this high school kid named Kuroba Kaito. Sequel to The Case of the Hidden Epidemic.

3. The Case of Haywire Heist

Kaitou Kid promised a heist to Hattori Heiji, and it's time to deliver. But Conan has been sitting on something and figuring out how to deal with it. When all collide at the heist, can things go well? No, of course not.

All three is finished between 2009 and 2011. Again, it's been a decade since I last read these fic. But I remember thinking, how did the Author write this??

A one-shot comedy. It's a must reread for me. Playing around with the corpse magnet joke, starring Conan and Heiji.

It's Raining Men, Hallelujah by Asuka Kureru (Askerian) ao3

[7077070707]

geto’s downfall (unfinished)

a/n — hi guys!! sorry for disappearing suddenly. i made this fic ages ago, the plot being geto and how the whole backstory arc would effect him and his s/o with a heavenly restriction (like toji’s) knowing how his views on those without cursed energy changed.

i grew disinterested with the fic and jjk overall (dw, the hyper-fixation comes and goes) but i still wanted to post what i had already written, so here you go. i may or may not complete it one day, but who knows.

the world is a cruel, unjust place. 

“riko… let’s go home.” 

“yeah!” as the young girl spoke her final words, instantaneously receiving a bullet to the head, oblivious and unaware. 

the scene was too sudden to comprehend – with one moment filled with a heartfelt conversation, and the next with the murder of an innocent child. 

geto didn’t even have time to react, his face still stuck in a pleasant smile before realising what just had occurred. with the boy’s body still and unmoving, his eyes followed the direction of where the younger girl had collapsed and took residence on her newly lifeless body.

her eyes lacked the warmth of a soul, as they stared into nothingness. her crimson blood oozed from the bullet wound on her head. it was splattered sporadically along the concrete floor, which was eventually to be forever stained with her remnants and what went down that night. 

“riko?” was all that he could muster.

he noticed a large man carrying a gun stalking into the light, yet he was confused as to why he couldn’t sense him or his cursed energy. as far as he was familiar with, the only person he knew that lacked the presence of cursed energy was y/n.  the man spoke some words but all geto could hear was the ringing of his ears and a slight buzzing noise. 

with no regard to what the man was previously saying, the boy asked one question, “why… why are you here?” 

“why…?” the unknown entity pondered for a moment, “oh, gotcha.” 

“i killed gojo satoru.”

“is that so?” an unforgiving fury envelops the raven haired sorcerer as he summons his two strongest curses, rainbow dragon and kuchisake-onna, “then die.”

the rainbow dragon bursts through the walls, scattering heaps of debris and rubble everywhere. it catches the man in its protruding jaw and soars across the air, sending gusts of wind throughout the chamber. 

the man hangs from the dragon's mouth and shoots a few bullets directed towards the sorcerer with an absurd level of pinpoint accuracy. 

at this, geto quickly summons a small curse between his hands to shield himself from the incoming bullets. he dispels the curse and soars downwards towards the destruction in a ravenous manner.

landing in the corridor, he abruptly spins and watches as the rainbow dragon fades away. the chiselled man rested a hand on his hip, with the other holding his gun at his side. he bore a wicked grin and simply said, “don’t be so impatient.”

he turns to the side and begins to take slow strides, explaining something that geto had no choice but to listen to with a furious scowl on his face. he matches the slow pace that the opposing man took and walks with him from a large distance. 

one thing the man says particularly catches geto’s attention. “...and since i have no cursed energy, i’m like an invisible man.” 

‘just like y/n then… so he’s bound by a heavenly restriction too, huh?’ he didn’t fail to notice that toji was as fast as shit — obviously due to the physical empowerments he was gifted in exchange for his cursed energy. the same stuff applied for y/n too, and he could see the uncanny resemblance. the way they both moved so effortlessly – as if they were one with the wind. judging from the man’s monstrous build and heavenly pact, he could already assume that he’d have a sinister and terrifying strength to him. another thing he and y/n had resemblance in. 

and it was true, he was an invisible man. geto wasn’t able to sense him, despite the fact the man was around 10 feet away from him. he should’ve fucking known. he has experience in dealing with those without cursed energy – his girlfriend – so why? why was he so fucking useless? an innocent child wouldn’t have lost a life today if he had attuned to his senses a little more.

geto was livid.

the man says something about how wielding a cursed tool reveals his presence, but geto already knew about that. y/n taught him most of the basics and what there was to know about her and her heavenly restriction. it was a curse and a blessing. 

he had enough of the man’s blabbing and raised both of his hands. his dominant hand took position in the form of a finger gun, with the other hand situating itself underneath the ‘gun’ as a form of support. his hand illuminated a bright blue and he aimed upwards to where the man was. a bunch of small, squid-like curses shot from the barrel of the ‘gun’ and crashed into the ceiling.

the sorcerer lowers his hands and stares expectantly at the area he shot. his eyes widen as hears a voice from behind him, “now, there’s more to this story.” again, he jolts and abruptly turns to the source of the noise. 

he points towards his open mouth and continues, “see, i keep a cursed spirit capable of storing objects around.” he begins his slow stride once more and geto follows the action, “so i usually put my cursed tools in it when i’m walking around.” 

geto locks a hawk-like gaze onto the man and the man reciprocates – but instead with a lazy, careless one. he was smirking as if he greatly enjoyed this whole endeavour. 

“now i know what you’re thinking… shouldn’t the cursed energy from the spirit make him no longer invisible?” the sorcerer remains silent. this was unfamiliar to him, and you’ve never tried anything like it. to find a cursed spirit that is able to hold an inventory of weapons is… not unheard of, but rare. and yes, he did wonder as to why the spirit didn’t reveal the man’s presence, since it was indeed a curse.

geto’s train of thought suddenly stops as he watches the man throw something up. he bore a look of deep-rooted disgust on his face as he witnessed the scene in front of him.

in his palm, lay a small, ugly curse drenched in slobber. 

“the spirit shrinks by storing itself within its own body.” the man says, holding intense eye contact with the young sorcerer, “then i ingest it and keep it inside my stomach.”

that’s all he needed to know in order to connect the dots; and for the rest of the rambling, he didn’t care. the longer he stared at him, the more bile raised at his throat. his anger was accumulating just from the look on his face. 

and at the very back of his mind, another source of anger derived from the chaos and damage he managed to bring – despite not having any cursed energy…

he knew it was wrong to think that, after all, his girlfriend didn’t possess any cursed energy either; and he loved her so dearly. however… he felt the phenomenon to be… unnatural. actually, it was unnatural. how is it possible for one to not bear the power of cursed energy be so destructive? 

suddenly, he felt disgusted. he shouldn’t be thinking that. y/n isn’t unnatural, for god's sake! she’s perfect, funny, and powerful. the hideous man in front of him is the one to be blamed. he’s the one who killed riko, the one who killed satoru… the boy swallows and tries to bury the thought at the back of his mind.

“...reveal myself to the six eyes…” 

the sorcerer had enough. “shut up!” he yelled, enraged, “it’s a heavenly restriction, i know that! and like us, revealing certain information can give you an advantage. i’m aware of that too!” 

geto didn’t want to hear about the heavenly restriction, he was well versed in that subject. what he wanted to know was how on earth the man knew about the entrance into the tombs. he begins to ask about it, but then a realisation occurs. 

‘heavenly restriction… enhanced senses, right? those with heavenly pacts are able to sense things the average human can not. we must have left traces like footprints, and odor. for fucks sake…’

it must have shown on his face – a grimace, due to his daunting findings, for the man opposite him bore a devilish grin.

“i see that you have the answer. humans leave many more traces than just cursed energy, ya know. i also see that you’re quite knowledgeable regarding heavenly restrictions. why is that?” 

“like hell i’d tell you. scum.” 

“could it be… that you're familiar with someone who bears the same curse as me? an acquaintance, a friend?” he drawled and his grin grew larger, “perhaps a partner?” 

his hand glows once more, and he launches a curse towards the large man. the rainbow dragon tunnels through the countless thin doors and soars upwards – not without capturing the man in its mouth.

once more, he summons a dozen small curses, erupting from miniature black holes in the sky. they project towards the rainbow dragon and the heavenly restricted man, appearing as though they were quantities of blue laser beams. 

the man soared in the air as if he belonged in the sky, effortlessly dodging and deflecting the hundreds of attacks barreling towards him with his weapon – not without a sinister grin present on his face. 

he flips backwards and lands on top of a roof, causing the bricks underneath to crumble from the sheer force of his landing. 

geto crouches down and summons another curse. a gigantic one, at that. it erupts from below his opponent, causing him to lose his purchase and soar into the air once more. he seemingly does a flip amidst the air – which unnerved geto, since there was no footing to pull a stunt like that.

the man lands onto the thick, old rope that was intertwined around the large tree of tengen’s chamber. he evades the barrage of attacks sent by the young sorcerer, as if were an animal relying on pure primal instinct. how could a human possibly be capable of this?  

he jumps into the sky and unsheathes his large sword, swinging it in the sky. suddenly, he’s splitting the rainbow dragon open, dragging his weapon through the tough scales of its hide, an act that is almost deemed impossible. it’s purple blood splatters everywhere, raining down of the world below it.

the sorcerer’s eyes widen, and he’s immensely taken aback. 

‘the rainbow dragon has the toughest hide there is! how the hell…?’’ 

to geto’s chagrin, he again couldn’t help but notice the everlasting similarities you and the man held. it was eerie. the sense of deja vu was strong, and geto felt lightheaded. he had been in this position before – with you airborne and elegant, deflecting his multitudes of attacks ever so effortlessly. of course, this battle was not taken in a serious manner – it merely being some sort of training regime.

he remembers the times you’ve been able to slash and hack curses that bore the toughest skin with the utmost efficiency, the resemblance with the man uncanny.

his thoughts beginning to intrude in his mind, he wonders if you would ever be capable of wreaking mayhem like the murderer before him had done. his heart rate speeds up and he feels sick, the disgusting thoughts invading geto’s mind and etching onto each of his brain cells. he pleads for these thoughts to go away, yet they don’t – and he is distracted.

the rainbow dragon tumbles and descends into the ground due to the massive injury it had suffered – with it practically being split open. rubble flies everywhere but the sorcerer and the murderer are unphased, gravely facing towards each other amidst the chaos that reigned upon them.

[divinemissem13]

Trick or Treat! ❤️

🤔 you'll have to decide if this is a trick or a treat because it's from a Trektober prompt I started writing then remembered that Brenda and Sharon aren't Trek-related and so I never finished... maybe never will. But I do like this part...

Sharon is bored. She usually pays better attention in meetings like this, but this one really could have been an email, and in any case she literally wrote the policies they are being lectured on now. So she lets her mind wander… across the table to the blonde deputy chief. Brenda, who abhors paperwork, is nevertheless very studious when she wants to be. Like now, pen poised to write more notes in her little notebook, watching the lecture over the tops of her thick rimmed reading glasses, chewing on her bottom lip as she concentrates. It's adorable. Sharon likes to imagine that this is what Brenda was like in college, or CIA training. She wishes they had known each other then. Sharon is bored and Brenda is adorable and everyone else in the meeting appears to be completely absorbed in Pope's long-winded version of things… and Sharon has an idea. Underneath the table, she slips her right foot out of its shoe. If she angles her body just a little bit more towards the front of the room, she should just be able to reach… there! Sharon's toes flutter against Brenda's calf and the blonde squeeks in surprise, a sound that she quickly tries to cover with a coughing fit. Pope glares at her, as if she is coughing on purpose just to interrupt him, until she stops, apologizes, and gestures for him to continue. Brenda glances sideways to Sharon with a scolding look. Usually, it would be Sharon throwing those looks at Brenda and the captain is actually quite enjoying the role reversal. She only raises her eyebrows subtly in response and waits for everyone's focus is back on Pope before she tries again.

[thepathnottrekked]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock Additional Tags: Humor, Pre-Slash, College AU Summary:

Written for the prompt: ok so like imagine an alien landing and doing the whole “take me to your leader” spiel, and you’re just like “aight” bc aliens are cool af, but the problem is the president is on the completely other side of the country, so you have to go on a cross country road trip with said alien

---

"My name is Spock,” says Spock. He stares at Jim’s hand until the Human finally drops it back to his side. “What do you want in return for your compliance as my Human hostage?”

"The privilege of punching President Trump in the face?” Jim suggests.

[miccimocha]

It's only been like 2 hrs but I'll post the unfinished fic. I also uploaded it in ao3, so you guys can also read it there whenever.

If I ever get the motivation to write the rest, I'll post it here first.

MY GOODBYE

John Dory Centric

...

John Dory felt tired. That was the main feeling he was currently experiencing. He doesn't know from what exactly, he just knows he is.

He was currently sitting on one of the chairs inside Rhonda, staring off through tbe window. He saw a bunch of little trolls playing and running around without a care in the world.

This made him think about his brothers. JD remembers how they used to play hide and seek in the house, hiding in the most peculiar places. There was this one time where Clay hid inside the washing machine and it took hourse for them to find him. He felt the sense of nostalgia.

John Dory turned his gaze away from the window and walked towards the clue board that Branch made. It was filled with pictures back in their Brozone days. He used to look at this very fondly, but now he just felt bittersweet about the whole thing. Sure it was fun, it was thing that he did with his brothers, but it was also the very reason why all of them broke up.

He's the reason why they all fell apart.

The eldest could never forgive himself for what happened. He won't even be suprised if his brothers' still hated him, they probably just didn't want to say to his face.

John Dory took a photo from the wall. It was a group photo of him and his brothers, the day of their very first performance with Branch. He couldn't help but smile a little at the memory.

He put the photo down and went to open a chest full of things he had gathered over the years for his brothers. There were birthday gifts, christmas gifts, and even letters he wrote for each and everyone of them.

John had been thinking about giving his brothers all of it, but he never found the right time to actually do it. Or maybe he's just a coward.

He sighed and walked away from the box. There was pause, the silence was loud. Then, he went back and carried the chest to the front.

"Come on, girl. I gotta deliver some packages." John Dory started the engine and sped into the direction of Branch's Bunker.

The old troll knew that neither the youngest or the rest of his brothers were at home. They were all currently out, visiting Bruce's family at Vacay Island. It was also an excuse for a family vacation and bonding time. Altough John was tempted to go, he declined Bruce's offer when it came up. His brothers looked disappointed, he felt guilty about that, but he didn't change his mind.

He knew that if he came he would just bum everybody out and the mood will just go down. He didn't want to risk it, as much as he would love to hang out with his brothers.

John Dory begins to think on what could have been if they- if he hadn't left. If he wasn't a selfish prick who pushed around his brothers. If he hadn't put on all those pressure about being perfect onto his brothers. Maybe they could've been happy. Branch wouldn't have been alone. None of his brothers would have the insecurities they had now. It was his fault, it always has been and it'll always will be.

And John Dory knew the truth about it all. He knew that it wasn't his brothers who weren't perfect. No. It was JD, himself. He was too full of pride to actually admit it back then, but it was true. He pushed his own defects onto his brothers, and because of that, they all fell apart.

So, now, he's going to get rid of the problem. Himself.

<__>

Once John Dory arrived in front of Branch's Bunker, he got out of Rhonda with the chest. He stopped right at the "Go Away!" mat and hesitated a little bit. Eventually, he put down the chest on the ground, beside the entrance. He pulls out a pen and paper from inside his hair and began to write.

|

|

"Dear Bros,

I know this seems strange, but this chest is full of presents I had for you all, from the day I left until the day we reunited. Please open it, I swear this isn't a joke.

I also just want to say sorry for all the things I had done. I know it isn't much, and it wouldn't give back the lost time that passed, but I just want you guys to know how much I love you.

All those years I've spent in the wild, there wasn't a day I didn't think of any of you, even if I tried not to...

Love, your eldest brother:

John Dory"

|

|

The penmanship was not the best, but it was still readable. His brothers would understand it. He hopes.

He sticks the letter on top of the chest. Once done, he walked over to Rhonda, his face turning into one of guilt. "Hey, Rhonda, girl. I-..." He took a breath and tried to steady his breathing. " I'm...going to be away for awhile. Or- Well, not really 'awhile', but you know...away."

Rhonda makes a sound of confusion and fear, not understanding what he was doing, but was clearly worried about him. Being with him for all those years, she learned to pick up on his moods and emotions. Right now, Rhonda felt concerned for JD with the amount of sadness he was giving off.

John Dory smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know you're concerned girl, but I promise it's ok." He hugged the critter. "Just stay here, bud. I promise, I'm coming back. I just need some time for myself right now."

Here he was again, breaking promises.

Once JD let go of her, he patted her for the last time and walked away. As much as Rhonda had wanted to follow, she couldn't disobey him. Besides, he promised her that he'll come back. He'll never lie to her. She trusted him.

..............

Yeah, that's basically it. But, again, I'll post the next part here first before ao3 when I get to it.

[new-revenant]

Have an unfinished fic! It was supposed to be a monster au thing, but whatever. I don’t know what I was thinking anymore. I don’t really like this that much, but it isn’t terrible. Putting it under the cut so I think about it less lol. It’s 2,372 words, not that bad.

“Day 3, July 13, 2004. I have been…dead for three days, hence the ‘Day 3,’ you know?” Danny solemnly chuckled, sadness seeping through his voice. Why was even doing this? For the sake of his sanity? Must be something like that. For his sanity, he continues.

“Us Fenton-Nightingales have monster-hunting in our blood. Although, my parents only believe in ghosts, not all those other magical creatures. But my parents also thought that ghost were monsters from another realm, so guess what-they know jack SHIT!

“Heh heh, ‘jack,’ that’s my dad’s name,” He paused, closing his eyes before inhaling sharply, continuing his meaningless spiel. For his sanity, he speaks into the recorder.

“I died, I died…three days ago, and now I’ve somehow fled to a town FULL of MONSTERS. And they were so nice, so nice because they think I’m one of them. They’ve let me live-live, ha-in a house that they couldn’t find a buyer for since I guess there aren’t too many of them living in the damned town!”

“So now I’m staying here. A not-quite-living not-quite-ghost boy with monsters. A monster hunter living with monsters.”

“My name is Daniel,” -he paused, he sighed, he continued- “Daniel Vladimir Fenton-Nightingale. And I’m half ghost, half human, and full on confused about just about everything I guess. Signing off!“

        ☁︎Two Days Earlier☁︎

Danny knew he was about to be doing something stupid. It would not be the first time he’d do something stupid. But this time, this time he was prepared. He had looked over the blueprints and notes for his parents’ machine thousands of times, he knew what it was supposed to do, and he knew that his parents failed.

A portal to the realm of ghosts, right in their basement. Their life goal, their lives’ work. And it failed. Jazz, his sister, took them both out to get some fresh air and groceries once it did. Danny engraved the looks of despair they bore as they dragged themselves out of the house into his mind.

Danny was smart. He had mostly straight As in school, getting only Cs in math. God he hated math. The Fenton-Nightingales-or just the Fentons-were a family of hunters, of geniuses, and he was no exception. Two heads were better than one, so three heads were even better. He could-no, he should help. He was going to make them happy.

Danny noticed the flaws in the wiring, in the circuits, in the paneling. They were minor, barely noticeable even to him, but even small holes can sink a ship. So he put on a hazmat suit-and took off the giant sticker of his dad’s face on it-and set out to work. It didn’t take too long, and Danny managed to fix every single thing he could find. He had worked with machines with his parents as soon as he learned how to solve those putting-the-right-shape-in-the-right-hole puzzles. He had worked with his parents with hunting ghosts, he knew how they worked, how they acted, how they faked human emotions to gain sympathy. He was born for helping his parents with this machine. And he would fix it no matter what it took.

So Danny turned on the portal again, waiting for something to happen. Seconds passed, nothing did. He sighed, and sat down on the floor. But he did something, and he would help even more when his parents came back. It could be one of those fun bonding moments between them all. He was sure even Jazz would love to help them, wanting to make their parents happier as much as Danny did.

Taking his hazmat suit off, he carefully and neatly put it back into the storage he got it from. Danny didn’t know what to do now, his parents wouldn’t be back for another hour at the very least.

So Danny was going to do something even more stupid-going inside of the portal. Since it didn’t work, maybe Danny missed something that he could fix later. The portal was spacious, going back several yards and being more than twice his height. He was awestruck at it all, loving every moment of scouting around the machine.

Then he saw it. A lone wire sticking out of the paneling. Without any thoughts in his head that weren’t focused on helping his parents, he took the panel off, and with his left arm he grabbed the wire and connected it to another.

He never turned the portal off.

The next thing that Danny remembered after moving the wire was his senses being invaded by an agonizingly bright green, by the smell of his own burning flesh, and by his own pained screams. Then he was on the ground, that green light pooling at his feet.

Danny could only blink. Danny tried to breathe, before quickly realizing a stomach churning fact-he didn’t need to breathe. He always had a feeling that his parents’ theory that ghosts were actually monsters from another world were a bit…off. And now he could see the truth.

Danny Fenton, the son of two ghost hunters, was now a ghost. He had an idea of what this meant. He could be next. No, he would be next. His parents wouldn’t even think he was their son, wouldn’t even think twice about ripping him apart. He tried to scramble to his feat, but instead ended up hovering a few feat above the ground. He was upright though, so that was a plus. A small, small plus.

A second plus was that the portal was on. It worked, his parents’ machine worked and Danny made it work. It only costed him his life. Danny started to laugh, laugh at how he was now the very thing that his parents hated. It was a crazed, depressed laugh. A laugh that echoed throughout the basement. It quickly turned into a scream, a shriek, more like. He barely registered the tears coming down his face as he mourned his own horrifically ironic fate.

But Danny had to move on, move on for his own twisted survival. Wading through the air, Danny went over to flip the switch for the portal, attempting to turn it off, failing to not pass through it multiple times before the green, swirling mess of the portal disappeared. He heaved out a sigh of relief. His parents would come home, and they would try to turn on the portal again, and then they be happy. He looked in the portal, a ghost of a smile on his face. He saw the panel he took off on the floor, and put it back without a second thought. Only after a lot of spinning around in the air and failing multiple times to even pick the stupid thing up.

Then Danny thought about something-where was his body? His body wasn’t there, not even any ashes. Oh god, it probably fell through the portal. But if it fell through the portal, why was the panel still there? Suddenly, outside of his control, Danny gasped, a breath of air coming out of his mouth, like he was out on a cold winter day. But it was mid-July and he was dead. Danny looked around and saw something-blob ghosts, many of them surrounding an ectopuss. That’s when he learned that ghosts can have adrenaline.

Danny zipped to one of the tables in the basement, grabbing the Fenton Thermos on it. Turns out, it was much easier to move as a ghost when you ignored your legs. The thermos was a ghost catching device that his parents were working on, that they were almost done with. Danny pointed it at the ectopuss, which now noticed him, shrieking at him. Danny pressed the capture button, half expecting it not to work. And it didn’t. He passed it to his left hand to examine it further, before seeing that his fingers were charred, with lightning-shaped scaring starting from his palm that went up his arm, probably going even further across his body. A lightbulb went off in Danny’s head, and he pointed the thermos back at the ectopuss as it scuttled closer to him. Danny pressed down the capture button yet again.

His scar lit up green, and he could feel it from the left side of his face, his chest, and back down to his arm. A beam of circulating blue light erupted from the thermos, sucking in both the ectopuss and all of the ghost blobs. Then the cap closed with a snap, leaving Danny alone in the basement lab. He hovered there for a moment, stunned.

Danny quickly came to a conclusion as to what to do now. He obviously had to leave. His parents couldn’t know that he was a ghost-that he was dead. Danny flew up the stairs, flew up all the stairs to his room. He grabbed a travel bag, focusing on making himself more solid as he did so. It worked, and he was able to shove a bunch of clothes in it. He didn’t think he would actually need any of it, but he’d rather have his parents think he had ran away.

Actually, that was a great idea, he should do that. He grabbed another bag and put some miscellaneous items in it, like toiletries, a headband, a voice recorder, and an unopened bag of glow-in-the-dark stars. He was going to put them all around his room eventually, but now that was never going to happen. Danny even put one of his goggles in there, the lens being the same pale blue his eyes were. But were his eyes still blue now? 

Usually ghosts didn’t look much like humans, typically having green, blue, or blueish-green skin. But as Danny looked at his hands, they looked...more human-like. His skin did look a bit tanned, a bit burnt, but it didn’t have any green or blue coloring to it as far as he could see. Maybe a very, very slight green tint if he stared hard enough.

Maybe he could try phasing through the wall to get to the bathroom. His parents probably would’ve put up something in the walls to make sure ghosts don’t-and holy fuck they didn’t Danny just went straight through it. Why didn’t they have anything to stop ghosts from phasing through the walls?! Wait, was that even possible? Danny didn’t dwell on that for too long, trying to just focus on looking at his reflection. His black hair was now a snowy white, his once white shirt with red accents now black with blueish-green accents, and his blue eyes now a bright green. His lighting scars were glowing the same green, albeit very faintly, reaching all the way up his face to just below his left eye. Danny himself was emanating a very faint white glow, which was the most normal ghost thing that was going on, but it’s not like he even knows what’s normal anymore.

Danny groaned, dragging his hands over his face, scowling into the mirror. His eyes and face were stained with his tears, and while looking at his reflection just a bit more, he noticed that his hair was longer. He had a bit of a mullet now, and his bangs almost completely covered his face, even though he could see through it perfectly fine. Another lightbulb went off in his head, remembering something. He went back to his room, picking up a book. It was an encyclopedia about ghosts that his parents did not write but he loved anyways. Flipping through the pages, he found quickly found what he was looking for.

“‘The Banshee,’” Danny read the passage aloud, “‘an Irish spirit that foretells the death of a family member by wailing, screaming, shrieking, or keening.’ What is keening? Whatever. ‘They are typically perceived as a young woman or an old hag, with pale skin, long hair, and a long dress, ’” Danny skimmed the rest of the page until he found something else that caught his eye.

“‘In some Irish mythology stories, the Banshee is the ghost of a young girl that suffered a brutal death,’“ Danny muttered. Would he…would he count as a Banshee? He was definitely similar in some aspects, especially with that brutal death part. Would dying in the portal count as a brutal death? Probably. 

Danny groaned, he was going to think about this later. Him being a banshee or not wasn’t  as important as booking it out of here. He stuffed the book and the working Fenton Thermos he used into his bag and closed it. He needed to go now, before his parents came back. Before then, he grabbed a spare piece of paper and a pencil, racking his brain for what to write. Soon enough, he figured out what to do.

Dear mom, dad, and Jazz,

I can’t stay here any longer. I hope you’ll understand one day. I hope I’ll be able to come back.

But I need to leave. I’m so sorry. I fixed the portal and I’ve seen things no one should ever see. I love you all and I’m so sorry.

With love, Danny

Danny sighed. Maybe he should just come clean and tell the truth. But that would be risky, and Danny could barely write without his hand slipping through the pencil. He’ll come back one day. He had to. And he had to leave.

Danny phased though the walls, carrying his bag with him. Now he knew that he could make objects intangible along with himself. But where would he go? Then, he remembered an old folk tale that his parents told him.

Amity Forest, a place where once someone goes in, they are never seen again. Monsters were said to eat those inside, or that the trees came alive and feasted on your flesh. Jazz had told him that those stories were just that-stories, used to prevent kids from getting lost in there. She was always a sceptic, but there was definitely a chance the stories could’ve been true. So that’s where he’ll go. It was nearby, so it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. With that in mind, he took off towards Amity Forest, clueless and hopeless as to what to do next.

[binghe-malewife-goals]

I'm so sad, so many good Jayvik fics are never picked up again,,,,

That being said, please read this Modern AU Ghost Jayvik fic, it's so incredibly fun:

Breathing Life into Ghosts

[bigsnzstanacct]

Do y’all want some not actually finished, not-proofread, possibly very wack F/ellow Tr/avelers fic? Well you’re getting it either way cuz I want attention. Will probably revise and possibly extend soon. It doesn’t even have a name, maybe it is just a Drabble that got out of hand but you know what I haven’t read any snzfic for this fandom and that is a crime. Below the cut, violently not-proofread!

“HHHHHEEEEEAAAAASSSSSHHHHHHHhhhhooooooo!!” He announced his presence with a sneeze, a nearly-shouted roar that sputtered out into a quieter, albeit wetter, finish.

“Skippy…!” He called out, faux-anger threaded through his voice. “You’re in trouble now, Skippy!”

Said “Skippy”, also known as Tim Laughlin, peeked his head out of one of the apartment’s bedrooms, chest bare, nostrils pinkened at the rims, face still full of the evidence of the cold he was still getting over—and that Hawkins was just falling into. “Huh, Hawk? Me, in trouble?” Mock-innocence the response to Hawk’s faux-angry call. They both knew this dance, and loved it.

Hawkins was on him suddenly, grabbing the thinner man in his arms and kissing him with intent. “Yeah, big trouble. You heard that sn-sneeze didn’t you?”

“Yeah, me and most of DC, you moose. Last time I heard a noise like that I was at the National Zoo.”

“Me? A moose? You’re just adding to the trouble you’re in, aren’t you?”

“Always do.” Tim said with a smirk, leading Hawkins into the bedroom, where he sat, limbs splayed alluringly. They were silent a moment, just holding each other’s gaze. Until Hawkins’ started to waver, a hand drifting idly up towards his nose. Tim’s smirk widened. “So what am I in trouble for, Mister Fuller?”

“You—snf!—you know what you’re in t-trouble for, you—snf!—y-you dirty little thing you, you gave me your… your hehhhhh… hehHHH…” his broad bare chest leapt with the urge. “your HHEHHHHhhh… gonna…!” The barest flicker of warning, before the inevitable was bouncing off the walls and making the windows rattle in their casements: “AAAEEEEHHHHHRRRSSCHHOOOOOO!” He bellowed. “Damn, sorry about that Skippy… never did figure out how to keep that qui… quiet… here’s a… gotta… notherone…! Huhhh! HUUUUURRRRRSSSCCCHOOOOOO!!!” Tim playfully covered his ears, smiling up at Hawk and sniffing himself.

“Awwww… did big bad Hawkins catch a little cold in his nose?” He teased. “Is that why you’re making all that racket? Just cause of little old me?” They’d been turning the tables more lately, but somehow they always found themselves back in this position: Hawkins towering above his Skippy, Skippy sitting on the bed, looking up at Hawk with at least two contradictory emotions in his eyes. At first, desire and terror. In the bad times, love and hate. In the best times—like now—naked adoration and stubborn defiance. An unwillingness to break and an insistence on being broken. That look stirred the most dangerous parts of Hawkins, in the most delightful ways.

Hawkins drew closer, lifted Tim’s chin, mostly so he could place his big hands near Tim’s neck. “Yeah… you made me sick, you little ball of germs. If you weren’t always sneezing and snotting all over this apartment, maybe I’d still be able to do my very important job.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Seem to recall you not minding that sn-sneezing and snotting at a-all… speaking of wh… which…” Hawk just smiled. Sometimes it seemed like Tim was allergic to the very word “sneeze.” Between the poor guy’s allergies and a cold in his nose, he was always on the verge of a big, messy sneezing fit.

“Hhhhh… hhhettcchhOOO! Hhhh-hehhhh! EEETTttttt-chhooOOO! Wh-whoa bihhh… big one… hehhhh…. hhettschh… ettscchhooo… hehhshhooo… yyeeeEEttschhooo... Ettssscchhhhh-OOO!” God Tim’s sneezes drove Hawk wild. The little wet, itchy, rapid-fire ones that spilled out on top of each other, as though his nose was so crowded with sneezes he could hardly get one out before the next was fighting to escape; the ones that went all cutesy and high-pitched at the end, almost as though he was surprised his nose tickled so much, the pitch raising at the end like a question. And then there was how intensely itchy he looked, his nose wriggling and alive, like it was trying to escape his face, his whole face scrunching in and then suddenly everything wide open: mouth lolling, eyebrows climbing, nostrils flaring and then…

And then it all started over again. And again. And AGAIN. It made Hawk breathless in a very different way than his own sneezes. It made him hunger, it made him want. It made him hard.

“Look what you did to me.” Hawk said, clutching at his thickened endowment, the bulge visible through his slacks. Tim sniffed, eyes still misty, nose clearly note done with him. But he couldn’t help but notice that. “That’s what you’ve been doing to me all day. Making me sneeze, with your cold in my nose. Making me think about you sneezing, losing control, falling apart for me, so pretty.” He was getting greedy now, pawing at Tim, squeezing his ass, kissing at his neck. “Could barely get through work, you want them to find out I’m a double fuckin’ pervert?”

They each froze a moment, their still-precarious positions and the memory of the time when they were more precarious still a nearly-open wound. But then Tim sneezed again, soft and pliant: “hhcchhssss…. huh… hittscchh!” And Hawk’s eyes were on nothing but Skippy.

“Bless you,” he said, soft and dangerous and hungry and adoring.

And then slacks were coming off, mouth on mouth, mouth on neck, hands everywhere, fingers and spit right where they needed to be, and then Hawk was behind Skippy on the bed, pressing into him, his weight on Skippy’s back, his hard length pressing against Skippy’s ass.

“You still gotta…?” Hawk asked.

“All the t-time, Hhahhhh… Hawk…”

“Can you… while you ride me?”

“Isn’t that how you caught my cold in the first place?”

“Don’t care. Need it. All over me, please, Skippy.”

“Need it?” Skippy asked, turning around to look at Hawk.

“Need it.”

“So what are you gonna do for your boy? When he gives you what you need? Are you gonna give me what I need?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t throw that word around Hawkins, you don’t mean it.”

“No fair, Skippy.”

“Life’s not fair, H-hahhh… hahhhhhh…” Tim’s nose chose that moment to act up, but despite his body’s betrayal (his body’s endless betrayals, when it came to Hawk), Tim hadn’t given up the implicitly negotiated upper hand. He put a finger under his nose, pressed hard. “You w-want me to l-let this loose, don’t you?”

Hawk nodded, and suddenly looked so much like a puppy that Tim almost dissolved into giggles.

“A-ahhh… all o-over you, yeah?”

Another nod.

“Stay with me tonight. Let me—snf!—take care of you.”

Another nod.

Tim barely managed a quick “ohthankgod” before the floodgates opened.

“ettscchhh! yyetttschh! hetchhhh! ettcchhhhhh! Huhhhh… eeYYettschhOOO! Heyyyy-SHOOOO! huhhh… eeeeYYESHH-OOOO! Ah!” They started fast and furious, grew luxurious and free and messy as the lingering cold sneezes in Tim’s nose took over. He ended on a sharp exhale, as he sank onto Hawk. It had taken some practice, learning to take dick in the middle of a sneezing fit. But Tim was a very, very fast learner. And seeing Hawk like this. Spread out under him, wrecked and open, more even than he was when Tim was inside of him, Hawk’s pupils blown wide, nothing else in his mind but Skippy, Skippy, Skippy, Skippy’s nose, Skippy’s ass, Skippy’s chest, Skippy’s wet eyes, closing… closing again as his head tipped back and…

“eeYYYYYEETTSSCCHH-OOO! Oh! Shit, bless me.” Tim murmured. It was easy, now that Hawk was inside him. He barely made any effort to move, knowing too much would send Hawk over the edge early. No, he just let his body have free reign. His sneezes always tended to make him double over or bend at the waist, he just gave them a little more free reign to move his body.

Hawk keened beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, big one Skippy, fuck…”

Tim managed to snark around the urge: “is that a rehhhh… requeahhh… AAAAHHTTSCCHHOOOOOOO!!” Tim sure acted like it was, his voice falling fully into the sneeze in a way it rarely did. Hardly a duplicate of Hawk’s beastly roars, but definitely on the loud side for Tim, tearing out of his throat like Hawk’s desire was a physical thing, had reached in and ripped it out of him. It was often like that for Tim, as though the sheer force of Hawk’s wanting made Tim’s body capable of things it had no ability to do before.

“Shit, Skip, I’m not gonna last…”

“Shhhhh… d-don’t… don’t… aapppsshHHHH! Hahhh… ppllleesshhhhh!! EeeYYYYYeesscchhhhOOO!” The sneezes weren’t stopping, and they were only getting wetter, the bursts of spray on Hawk’s torso no sooner cooled than Tim replaced them with another.

Tim recovered with a firm sniff, in control enough to say, “don’t worry, we’ve got a while.”

[links-in-time]

Don't you just hate it when you're reading a fic and then you accidentally close Tumbler and it refreshes your feed when you open the app again!!!!!! Ahhhhh!

I think it was called 'Like a steal trap' or something. Warriors loses his memory of the Chain.

[goldenavenger02]

Chapter 1: The Thing About Growing Up

Kai struggles to accept that Lloyd is now the “adult” of the monastery; and then Lloyd nearly gets captured. It takes a long time to get back to some sense of normal.

If it had felt like his heart was ripped in half the first time he watched his younger sibling start to grow up, it felt like it had been pulled out of his chest and stomped on the second time.

On one hand, he was so proud of Lloyd. It was the kind of proud that made his eyes fill with happy tears if he thought about it for too long. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but see Lloyd as that little boy with a bowl cut and the sleeves of his gi cuffed.

With Nya, even as she grew out her hair and changed her wardrobe from reds and yellows to blues and grays, he still couldn’t help but see her as the little girl with cropped raven-black hair that he had cut himself and wearing his old hand-me-downs. 

But Nya had always been independent, insistent on not needing to be protected even to the point of becoming a Samurai when she was barely a teenager; in hindsight, maybe that was why it had been easier for Kai to let her go. 

He was still her older brother, he had practically raised her in the aftermath of their parents getting taken hostage by Acronix and Krux, so there would always be a part of him that was worried about her safety.

But he also knew that if she needed him for anything, she would come to him with zero hesitation.

Kai didn’t have that certainty with Lloyd.

He had been so angry when they first took him in, refusing to go to anyone for any reason until he got caught but back then, it was small stuff like a bad dream or the same small cuts that all of the others had gotten from training.

Lloyd had gotten better at not hiding things as he got older but every time Kai had to shake him awake from nightmares or stitch up wounds that were hidden for hours, all he could see was the little boy with cuffed sleeves and reddish brown eyes that were slowly turning bright green.

All of that had been before.

Before the merge had separated everyone, before he had taken on the responsibility of training Arin, Sora and Wyldfyre and before he had taken up his role as the Master of the Monastery of Spinjitzu.

Now it seemed like Lloyd had put up a large wall between himself and the others, just like Master Wu had done so many years ago.

Kai knew that it would take awhile to break through that wall, that it had been built up as a result of The Merge, of Lloyd being so lonely without anyone else around for years. But he could be there for him and help him with the new trainees.

Even if he had been apprehensive about Wyldfyre at first, he soon found himself teaching her the same way he had taught Lloyd and pulling her into the same tight hugs that he had given Nya in the past.

Which is probably why after training had wrapped for the day, he hadn’t hesitated to hand Wyldfyre the spare controller as he booted up the remastered edition of Lava Zombies that Arin had bought the last time they were in The Crossroads.

“Wyldfyre, you have to go above the zombies!” Kai insisted as he used the controller to guide his avatar above the fire-spitting zombies.

“But they need to be blasted!”

“This is the stealth round, you have to go undetected. Otherwise, they’ll alert all of the zombies and back you into the corner,” Kai explained as he vaulted his avatar onto a platform, “I’ve played through this whole game twice, you can’t outsmart the computer.”

“I’m smarter than some dumb computer.” Wyldfyre sneered as she continued to blast the zombies on screen, but Kai was learning to pick his battles.

‘If she wants to get stuck, that’s her decision.’ Kai decided as he heard the sliding door open behind him while he reached the end of the level.

“Ooo, Lava Zombies, haven’t seen this game in a long time,” Lloyd commented from behind the couch, “Wyldfyre, isn’t this the stealth lev-”

“I already tried to explain it, don’t bother,” Kai sighed while turning his head, only to get a good look at Lloyd’s outfit which was not his usual green gi or even his more casual clothes but a bright white robe with green and gold detailing, “oh, aren’t you looking fancy!”

He had been counting on a bright red flush to cover Lloyd’s cheeks while he scratched the back of his head nervously with a smile, a habit that had stuck since becoming the golden ninja all those years ago.

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get it?” Wyldfyre asked, turning away from the game to hang over the side of the couch, the gold on the robe flickering in her dark red eyes so clearly that Kai could see it, “it’s so shiny.”

“I repurposed an old one, figured it needed an upgrade,” Lloyd shrugged before making eye contact with Kai, “can I have a turn or do you need to beat the final boss for a third time?”

He knew exactly what robe had been repurposed ,the circumstances in which he had worn it meant that Kai would never be able to forget what robe it was.

“Kai?”

“Sorry, zoned out for a sec, just not used to seeing you with brushed hair,” Kai lied through his teeth and expertly dodged the smack that Lloyd tried to deliver to the back of his head, “you can have my controller, but you’re not gonna be able to progress until someone,” he pointed his thumb directly at Wyldfyre who had turned back to the game and was still making the mistake of blasting the zombies, “understands the concept of stealth.”

“I’m sure I can teach her.” Lloyd insisted, snatching the controller from where Kai had abandoned it on the coffee table and waiting until Kai shifted to the middle of the couch to sit down on his left side.

“Good luck, “Master Lloyd”,” Kai said while resting his feet on the coffee table and folding his arms behind his head, “we all know I’m her favorite teacher and if I can’t do it, no one can.”

“Why are you saying his name so weird? You are a master, right?” 

“That’s complicated,” Lloyd answered as he led his avatar back down the ledge in order to guide Wyldfyre’s, “But Kai and the others used to call me “temporary Master Lloyd, in training” so it’s an improvement.”

“So you’re allowed to bully people?” Wyldfyre raised a confused eyebrow toward Kai.

“Hey, there is a big difference between teasing your little brother who is being a prick and disrespecting an entire species,” Kai retorted, “besides, I’m sure Lloyd will be a great master now that he’s not…you were seventeen, right?”

“Sixteen.”

“First Master.”

“Don’t I know it,” Lloyd’s laugh sounded hollow but Kai knew better to question it when he would only get denial in return, “just follow me, Wyldfyre, so we can get to the next level and you actually can blast the zombies.”

“Fine, but I can outsmart the computer.”

Kai didn’t comment on how she had lost three of her four lives just by continuously blasting zombies that would never stop coming, he did not want his hair to get seared off today; instead, he watched as Lloyd guided her avatar throughout the maze of platforms, stopping to show her how to double jump onto a particularly high ledge.

Wyldfyre and Lloyd made it to the portal that took them to the next level when the sliding door opened again, this time with much more urgency.

“We’ve got a problem, a big problem.” Arin’s voice was full of panic, which resulted in Lloyd handing the controller to Kai while he stood up, “Nya picked up an attack just outside of The Crossroads on the sensors, some weird wolf people or something.”

“Wolves don’t attack cities.” Wyldfyre insisted as she stood up, the game long abandoned.

“Ras is with them.”

Kai watched as Lloyd’s face went from questioning to anger; he didn’t know a lot about the disgraced leader of the Claws of Imperium, but he knew about the dragon hunting and that was enough. As they boarded The Bounty and got a full rundown from Nya, however, that was when a horrifying thought hit Kai out of nowhere.

‘Lloyd is part dragon.’

“Lloyd? Are you sure about this?” Kai asked as he stood in the doorway of their quarters.

“What do you mean?” Lloyd asked as he adjusted his armor around his green gi, no longer wearing the white robes, “it’s just Ras. Sora, Arin and I have beat this guy multiple times before.”

“Well, you benched Riyu-”

“I don’t know what those wolf people want, but after the Source Dragon said he was special, I’m airing on the side of caution. I’m sure it’ll just be a quick in and out.”

“Lloyd, you’re part dragon,” Kai finally got to the point, “maybe you should also sit this one out.”

“You can’t bench me anymore.” 

“I’m not saying it to be a jerk, or because of some stupid destiny crap,” Kai insisted, the anger in Lloyd’s voice making him cringe, “I’m saying it because I want you to be safe.”

“I am not a little kid anymore,” Lloyd huffed as he stood up straighter, “I’m the keeper of the Monastery of Spinjitzu as well as Sora’s, Arin’s and Wyldfyre’s master. I have a duty to protect them.”

He tried to walk out of the room, but Kai held his hand out so Lloyd stopped in his tracks. He couldn't just let Lloyd leave without full understanding.

“I have my own duty, as a protector of the green ninja.”

Lloyd shrugged out of Kai’s grasp and walked away.

Kai knew that he had to get down to the ground, to stop the fight before it escalated out of control but at the same time, he couldn’t get his feet to move; despite the insistent voice in his brain telling him to go, all he could focus on was the fact that Lloyd hadn’t looked back.

Every time he had stormed out before, he would yell as he left, flip him off or even just glare at him for a brief moment but now, he refused to even acknowledge him.

‘He’s an adult now, he doesn’t need you to protect him anymore.’ Kai tried to assure himself as he started to make his way to the deck while pulling his hood over his head, but that terrifying realization he had made earlier still lingered in the back of his mind.

‘Lloyd is part dragon.’ Repeated over and over in his head as he launched himself onto the ground and started to fight against the wolf warriors.

He hit his sword against one of the wolf’s claws, knocking the steel covered glove off of their hand before using spinjitzu to knock them to the ground; he would be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of fighting the Serpentine due to the ease of it.

At least until another wolf man nearly ripped out his hair, only giving him a split second to react by launching a fireball right at him.

‘Arin was right about these guys being a threat.’ 

He didn’t have eyes on anyone aside from Sora’s large mech and when his heart panged with worry about Nya and Lloyd, he shook it off while knocking yet another wolf to the ground.

‘These guys are no sweat, those two can handle themselves.’ He told himself, even though he knew it was a lie and that his internal words were doing nothing to calm his nerves.

He continued to land fireballs against the wolves, occasionally catching a second set of fireballs or blasts of water out of the corner of his eye but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything clever as he fought.

Not when the thought of ‘Lloyd’s part dragon’ continued to loom in his mind like a storm cloud.

He could see the wolves start to dwindle, the fear in their eyes that they had bitten off more than they could chew as they faced off against multiple skiller fighters; the worry in their eyes made Kai’s heart stop beating quite as fast.

Until everything went shockingly numb and his ears started to ring.

All he could focus on was four things.

A voice saying “Lord Ras says to get what we came for”. A weapon being unsheathed. The blade sliding right through armor, fabric and flesh with zero effort. Lloyd’s cry of pain.

Kai only managed to turn to see one of the wolves with their dagger buried deep inside of Lloyd’s right side before his vision went red and his hands went alight.

He made sure that every single punch, every single fireball and every single burst of spinjitzu went directly against the wolf who had hurt Lloyd; the one who had hurt his baby brother.

His chest heaved and sweat poured off of his forehead until the wolves finally retreated, his hands still alight until he could confirm that they had left with pure terror in their eyes, afraid of his wrath.

‘They should be.’ Kai couldn’t help but think as he looked directly at the blood, Lloyd’s blood, staining the ground, but at least Lloyd had been evacuated before bearing witness to his wrath.

He wiped some of the blood off of his face and onto his sleeve as he boarded The Bounty before making his way down towards the small medbay against his better judgment.

In hindsight, he should have knocked before he opened the door. Kai never wanted to see Nya having to hold Lloyd’s arms to the point of him trying to break out of her grip ever again.

“Why is he still awake?!”

“Zane’s looking for something to sedate him with,” Nya explained before turning to Lloyd after a particularly loud noise that sounded like a mix of a sob and a groan, “Lloyd, you have to stop moving.”

“S-sorry,” Lloyd apologized with a tremble in his voice, “i-it hurts.”

“I know, I know it hurts. But if you keep moving, it’ll get worse.”

As much as Kai wanted to take over for Nya and try and calm Lloyd down, his sister had him handled and it made his stomach churn to see the two of them in that state.

“How can I help?” Kai asked, pulling off his shirt so the battle stained sleeves didn’t get in the way, leaving him in his undershirt as he started to wash his hands thoroughly.

“Are you sure?” Zane asked, pulling Kai’s vision away from the sink to look into his icy blue eyes, “you’re pale.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.” Kai insisted, drying his hands off with the paper towels and using them to turn off the sink before grabbing two of the nitrile gloves out of the box. 

He had to be sure, he couldn’t be anything else right now. Not with Lloyd choking on his attempts at deep breathing while Nya held him down.

Zane handed him the syringe that had already been filled with the sedative they had on board, as well as the pack of alcohol wipes and a band-aid, “I don’t want him to panic when I go over there, but once he’s asleep, we can get that blade out.”

“Got it,” Kai whispered, taking the syringe and sealed wipes with him to the small, metal table that sat opposite of Lloyd’s head, making sure to only look at his face and not at the blue handle sticking out of him, “Green machine.”

“A-are they okay?” Lloyd nearly pulled his right arm out of Nya’s grasp as he squinted past tears, “Arin, Sora and W-Wyldfyre?”

“Only one who’s hurt is you,” Kai assured him as he gently pulled Lloyd’s arm out of Nya’s grasp before opening the sealed alcohol wipe, “but you are gonna take a nap and get patched up, okay?”

“But-”

“This is gonna be cold,” Kai cut off Lloyd’s protest as he wiped down his bicep, “I know you’re in a lot of pain, but we’ve got you,” he stopped speaking to pick up the syringe, “take a deep breath, bud.”

Hei felt sick to his stomach as he waited for the shaky inhale before pressing the needle into Lloyd’s arm, quickly tossing the empty syringe in the small basket of medical waste before covering up the small pinprick of blood.

As soon as Lloyd went limp, however, Kai stood up and proceeded to book it to the half bath, his stomach churning violently. He didn’t even get the gloves off before he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Nya was the one who came after him, who shut the toilet lid and flushed it before helping Kai to his feet, handing him a clean cloth to wipe his lips on and a paper cup with water to rinse his mouth out.

“Are you okay?” Nya finally asked after a few beats of silence.

“No. Are you?”

“No.” She slid down to the floor, resting her head in her hands.

“Lloyd and I got into a disagreement earlier,” Kai admitted while peeling off the gloves, “I wanted to bench him.”

“He’s a bit old for that, don’t you think?”

“Not because of that. That Ras guy was in charge of hunting dragons, Lloyd is part dragon, he benched Riyu because he is a dragon.”

“Kai, what are you saying?”

Kai looked down at his hands for a few moments before finally making eye contact with his little sister, “I think the attack today was a trap for Ras to capture Lloyd. I think they know that he’s part dragon.”